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Chapter Text

"Camping?" 

Branch wasn't entirely sure where the idea sparked from or why Poppy was even suggesting it, so he couldn't help but spare his girlfriend a bewildered glance.

The queen, with all her dazzling charms and adorable enthusiasm, didn't seem to catch on to his shock. She nodded her head fast enough to knock her crown askew, her eyes alight with excitement. She danced around her pod, flinging things everywhere, turning the entire place upside down, and throwing what she deemed necessary into a bright blue knapsack in the center of all the chaos she was actively creating. 

"Yes, camping!" Poppy declared it as if he should know exactly why she was bringing it up. She turned, giving him a bright peek over her shoulder with that smile that always made his knees jelly and his heart skip beats. "I mean, Veeve and I only decided yesterday to do a sisters' retreat for our trip tomorrow, but I was just thinking this could be a good chance for you guys to bond! You have a week until Viva and I come back from our trip; why not take this opportunity to do something with your brothers?"

Branch scrunched up his face at that, his arms folding almost protectively over his chest at the mention of his estranged brothers. His relationship with them was still pretty sour, and he still hadn't forgiven any of them for walking out on him and Grandma Rosiepuff twenty years ago. He wasn't sure if he could ever get past it, knowing that their leaving had caused him to be utterly and completely alone for two decades. 

Going out into the wilderness with them sounded like a horrible idea. He could tolerate them on good days, but there were times he was so mad he couldn't even look at them without wanting to scream. A trip away with them was the last thing he wanted.

"And you think," Branch swallowed, his face marred with his signature frown, though it felt heavier than usual, "that I should ask them to go  camping ?"

"Yes," his Queen reiterated with fond exasperation as she stuffed a crazy amount of glitter into the already overpacked backpack, " camping ." 

Poppy shook her head with a chirping giggle, diving right back into her cheerful packing. "Since Clay said he didn't mind staying behind, Bruce is visiting from Vacay Island, and Floyd and JD basically live with you already, all five of you will be together. This is the perfect chance for you guys to, y'know, make things right!"

Branch watched her jump from place to place like a bunny, grabbing items from high shelves and spinning about the room with a delight only the Queen of Pop could possess. Her jittery elation was impossibly infectious, and he found his lips quirking upwards in adoration as she whirled around him in pretty, pink circles.

He'd come over to hang out with his beloved girlfriend after she found him leaving his bunker and literally dragged him back to her big, pink pod; she claimed she wanted to spend the day with him before her spur-of-the-moment trip tomorrow, and who was he to deny her charming request to be in his company? He was happy to join her, mostly because he knew he would miss her like crazy while she was gone. 

Poppy was leaving tomorrow with Viva to embark on a journey to the abandoned Bergen golf course where a surviving group of Pop Trolls had sought refuge after the chaos of the Great Bergen Attack. These displaced trolls made the desolate minigolf greens their temporary home, remaining stationary in the hopes a troll from the main village would stumble upon them one day. It may have taken twenty years, but steps to emigrate the Putt-Putt Trolls back in with the rest of the colony had already been put in motion.

The royal sisters were taking this trip back to Hole 'N Fun to map out the most secure route between the two villages. Since relocation efforts couldn't be carried out until a safe enough path was decided on, they chose to make it a sisters' retreat, wanting to focus on making important decisions as two leaders of different villages and unite their subjects once more. 

For Poppy, the prospect of spending quality time with her newfound sister filled her with an excitement she had never experienced before. She had longed for a sister her entire life, and now that she finally had one in Viva, she was determined to forge a deep and lasting bond between them.

Branch watched with amusement as Poppy's excitement bubbled over with her crazed attempts to stuff her knapsack full. He had never seen her so animated, not even when she was asked to be Bridget's maid of honor. It was clear that this retreat was important to her for reasons other than the relocation plan for the Putt-Putt Trolls; he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth knowing how much it meant to his girlfriend.

Poppy could barely contain her excitement. Despite it being a last-minute decision, she talked about it incessantly. She spent most of yesterday eagerly planning every detail of their trip with Viva and gushing about the memories they would create together. For her, this retreat wasn't just about mapping out a route or making decisions as leaders—it was about strengthening the bond between two sisters who had been ripped apart and were determined to build a lifelong connection.

He was almost jealous of her ability to make peace with her family drama so quickly. He would admit Poppy had been pretty steamed with her father once they returned from the perilous mission to rescue his brother, Floyd, from the neon-infected city of Mount Rageous. 

Peppy had lied to her for over twenty years and never told Poppy about her long-lost sister. The Queen was furious with the former king for a few days, but after a long talk and making many promises not to keep anything else from her, she forgave him. 

Branch wished it could be that easy for him; his last attempt to talk with his brothers had been pretty... underwhelming. 

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but he wasn't surprised when the yelling started. Disappointed, maybe, but not shocked. He was actually more impressed that they had been able to last this long without breaking the peace. 

It had been a few weeks since rescuing Floyd, and all four of his older brothers were currently taking up the spare bedrooms he'd built in his bunker. They'd spent most of this time in relative harmony, but slowly, old habits started to trickle in; before long, they were fighting whenever they were together. Little or big, an argument was sure to happen if more than one brother was in the room.

This morning had been no different. During what was supposed to be a light-hearted breakfast, a squabble broke out between Clay and John Dory just minutes after the meal started, and they got no closer to resolution than before they'd all sat at the table.

Branch had managed to slip away almost undetected, though he did hear Bruce call his name just as he escaped above ground, which he promptly ignored in favor of getting away from them. 

It was driving him crazy! The tension, the unsaid accusations that hung in the air, the scorching glares during meals. They were acting like children; he guessed he wasn't much better since all he did was run away when the voices started getting loud again. 

"I don't think they're capable of making things right." He finally responded to his queen's last statement, a familiar bitterness stinging the tip of his tongue. "They can't stop fighting with each other. They can't stand each other, and  I  can't stand  them ."

Branch's words hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of years of unresolved hurt. 

Poppy paused in her frenetic packing, her expression softening as she turned to face him. She could see the pain etched in his features, the lingering wounds of the lonely past that never left him alone. 

She didn't know everything, but he'd told her enough to understand his anger. He was once just a happy, bright blue baby when a fight tore their childhood band apart, the brothers leaving with nothing but scathing, rageful, unresolved feelings for Branch to remember them by, and after Grandma Rosie died, he spent the next decade of his life grey, isolated, and paranoid.

He had suffered for twenty years, and all they'd had to do to prevent it was to just stay with him.

Branch bristled at Poppy's compassionate stare, suddenly aware that his bad vibes had ruined his girlfriend's pleasantly happy atmosphere. He felt guilty for raining on her parade with his familial drama.

He deflated with a sigh, dragging his gaze to stare at his feet. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just..." The nasty irritation he'd been swallowing down was bubbling back up. "It's just hard having them live with me in the bunker. It's not so bad when it's just John and Floyd, but with Clay and Bruce, it's... hard. I mean, Clay and Bruce have only been here for a  day, but breakfast was a disaster! They can't even get along for one meal."

He threw his paws out in frustration, unsure where to point his anger if it wasn't directly at his brothers. "They argue so much; it just feels like we're getting worse the more time we spend together. How are we supposed to forgive each other after everything that's happened? What if we can't fix this? What if..."

' What if they  leave  again? ' He didn't finish the question aloud, but it twirled around in his thoughts like a demented ballerina. 

Somehow, she caught on to his unsaid statement; she always had this incredible ability to read his mind, even if he didn't want her to. Poppy set down a stack of felt she'd been contemplating bringing back on the shelf where she'd grabbed it, dusting off her paws with a peculiar, all-knowing frown.

"Branch," she spoke gently, crossing the room to stand in front of him. "You've done amazing with everything that's happened these past few weeks, but healing takes time. They hurt you, and it's alright to be upset with them. But you can't let it stop you from trying. Both sides have to put in an effort." Her voice was tender, filled with a quiet understanding born of her own experiences with betrayal.

She reached out to take his paws in hers, her beautiful pink eyes that Branch fell in love with, staring intensely into his cerulean ones. "Maybe doing something with your brothers could be the chance you need for you guys to talk it out. To understand each other, even if it's only a little bit more than before. Just five guys, doing manly things and talking about manly feelings." Poppy's gaze was earnest as she attempted to reassure him that she was there for him. 

Her thumbs brushed gently over his knuckles, expressing a wary hesitance before continuing, "Have you told them about your grandma yet?"

Branch felt a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside him. Speaking about his grandma always made his skin clammy and his stomach twist. He missed her a lot; talking about her never seemed to make the pain of her death go away. "Aside from blurting out that she got eaten when we were rescuing Floyd? No, I haven't." 

Poppy inhaled sharply, "Branch-"

"I know, I know." He interrupted, his eyes fluttering shut to avoid her disappointed gaze. "I know I have to tell them I'm just not ready yet. I don't even know how to bring it up." 

He hadn't spoken a word about what happened after his brothers left. Not about Grandma Rosie, whose screams still haunted him at night. Not about him turning gray and being unable to sing because of his fears. Not about the constant paranoia that had driven him to the brink of madness and made him the village outcast.

Sure, they asked. They wanted to know what happened to their grandmother who had basically raised them after their mother died and their father... well Branch was never sure what happened to their dad, but regardless, Rosiepuff was the one that had cared and nurtured them. She was, in no better terms, their only parent and she meant a lot to all of them if their reactions when he revealed she was gone were anything to go by. So how was he supposed to tell his brothers that she died protecting him?

He'd spent so long wondering if he could forgive them for leaving, but what if it turned out that they were the ones that couldn't forgive him after what happened to their grandmother? What if they began to resent him because of it? He was scared of letting them into his heart. They already couldn't stand each other; what if the truth about their grandmother's death, the fact that it was Branch's fault, was all they needed to hate him too?

He knew it was childish, but he was terrified of them finding out. He... couldn't handle them leaving a second time. Despite how bitter he was with them right now, he still loved his brothers and (though he would rather die than admit it to them) he did want them in his life. 

Poppy could see he was slipping away to sink in his anxieties, releasing his paws and cupping his cheeks instead. One of her thumbs brushed along his cheekbone, coaxing him to reopen his eyes and face her. She smiled in that perfect, angelic way that only he got to see, and he melted instantly against her touch. 

"It's okay to take things one step at a time, but you have to tell them eventually. This isn't something you should hide from them. Your feelings are valid, and I hear you. So hear me when I say you can do this," She continued, squeezing his paws in reassurance, "and you don't have to face this alone. I'll be here for you every step of the way, no matter what." Her words carried a quiet determination, a promise to stand by his side through the trials ahead. She believed in him, in his ability to confront his family and the growing mountain of issues between them all. 

How did he ever get lucky enough to have her?

"You really think I should ask them?" He asked, voice small, face at war between a genuine thankfulness for her support and a tired sadness that seemed to plague him no matter where he went. Though he was hesitant to agree, he knew Poppy had his best interests in mind. It wouldn't hurt to consider; as awful as the idea of being alone with his brothers for a whole week sounds, maybe it could actually benefit them. 

Poppy's smile softened even further, her eyes shining with that tenacious love and understanding she was so infamous for. She nodded gently, leaning in and peppering a tender kiss on the tip of his nose before pressing her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the little space between them.

"Yes, Branch," she asserted, her voice gentle but firm, "I think it's worth a shot. Who knows, a camping trip could be the beginning of a new chapter for you and your brothers."

That was hard to believe, but coming from Poppy, someone he knew would never lie to him, Branch couldn't help but feel a little bit better after their conversation. Maybe she was right, and his relationship with his brothers wasn't entirely unfixable. Maybe all he had to do was be honest with them. His lips quirked into an awkward smile, his cheeks burning at her affection. He took the initiative this time, wrapping his tail around hers, which she eagerly reciprocated by tangling them further together to comfort him. 

"When did you get so smart?" He taunted lightheartedly, chuckling at the deadpan look he got in response to his joke. 

"Oh, you know." She replied as his paws enveloped her waist to keep her close, "It's all part of being a queen. We're naturally wise and insightful creatures." Her tone was light, a welcome reprieve from the heaviness weighing in Branch's mind.

Branch couldn't help but laugh at her playful demeanor, tension in his shoulders all but a memory. She always knew how to make him feel better.

"Well, I must say, Your Majesty," he hummed, reaching up to fix her askew crown, "your wisdom never ceases to amaze me." He couldn't resist adding a playful wink, earning himself a tiny swat on the arm from Poppy.

"I'm sure it doesn't," she teased, her smile widening as she leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "But seriously, Branch, I'm here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'm right there. If you want to wait to tell them until Vives and I get back, I've got your back."

Branch's heart swelled with gratitude at her words, his affection for her growing stronger with each passing moment. He knew he was lucky to have her by his side, and he was determined to cherish every second they shared. He dragged her in for a hug, her arms cocooning around his shoulders and squeezing. 

"Thanks." He pulled away to offer a more confident smile. "The same goes for you. I've got  your  back." 

"When don't you?" She giggled, separating from him as she resumed her earlier task, though it was much calmer after the sentimental talk. Her packing was less wild, more thought out as she eyed her canned rations and water. "So, what do you think? Wanna try out the camping idea? We could come up with something else less risky if you want." 

"I'll think about it, but no promises. We got to do something about all the fighting first. They're literally chasing me out of my own bunker at this point." Branch bent down, picking up one of the throw pillows she'd somehow knocked off the couch, and returned it to its original spot. 

Poppy decided the water and food was important enough to bring along, stuffing a few cans and some unopened bottles into her already bulging backpack. "So that's what happened! When I found you this morning, you seemed really upset." She struggled to fit the last can but refused to give up and pressed all of her body weight on top of it. "Good thing you have me to keep you company!" 

"Lucky me." Branch gave her a bent smile, coming over to help her out. He shuffled some items around, magically managing to pack her desired items much more organizedly, and pulled the flap closed in finality. "Do you really need all of this, Poppifer?" 

The Pop Queen scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I do, Branchifer. You never know when you need to do arts and crafts." 

He paused for a moment, his paw brushing over the bag strap. He was still a little nervous about her going off with Viva alone. Branch and Poppy usually did these kinds of adventures together, with him being the no-nonsense muscle and her being the blazing ball of friendly optimism. He understood Poppy wanted this to be just a sisters' retreat, but he still couldn't help but feel a little wary about her leaving tomorrow. 

"Are you sure you don't want to take Rhonda? John Dory said he really didn't mind if you were having second thoughts." His oldest brother didn't hesitate to offer his armadillo bus, Rhonda, to the royal sisters for their trip since the distance was so vast. Of course, the generous proposal was turned down but appreciated nonetheless. 

"We'll be perfectly fine, Branch. Viva and I need to make sure it's completely safe for the Putt-Putt Trolls to cross such a long distance. It's only fair that we travel it on foot first before putting any other troll at risk." His girlfriend confidently put her paws on her hips. "As Queen, this is something I have to do. But it really was nice for JD to offer. I'll have to thank him tomorrow at the send-off."

"Please don't; it'll inflate his ego even more than it already is."

"Be nice." She warned playfully, linking her arm with his. "How about some lunch now that I'm done packing? I doubt you ate this morning, and I only had some coffee, so I'm pretty starved." 

Branch escorted her to the pod's entrance flap, pushing it open for them to step out onto the petal. "Sounds like a plan to me. Didn't you say you wanted to show me a new cafe in the village?" 

That set her off on a hyper tangent of the delectable food this restaurant had on its menu, with their paws and tails intertwined together as they stepped from her hanging home onto the moss below. 

The new cafe certainly lived up to its reputation, delighting Branch and Poppy's taste buds with an assortment of delicious pastries and treats. As they savored each bite, they shared stories, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Poppy never ran out of things to tell him, and he was grateful for that, with him being more quiet than most trolls.

The afternoon passed in a pleasant blur of laughter as Branch and Poppy wandered through the bustling village with full stomachs, soaking in the vibrant atmosphere of their beautiful home. They greeted familiar faces with waves and smiles, conversing with friends they met during their walk. 

And when they stumbled upon the impromptu song and dance performance in the town square, Poppy couldn't resist joining in the festivities and dragged her grumpy boyfriend in on the fun too. Branch's usually reserved demeanor melted away as he let himself be swept up in the rhythm, his movements mirroring Poppy's with a grace he rarely flaunted unless she pulled it out of him.

For a few precious hours, all of his worries and troubles faded into the background as he reveled in Poppy's company. He knew that tomorrow he'd say goodbye and they'd spend the next week apart, so he wanted to cherish these moments even though she'd be back before he knew it. The sun began to dip below the horizon by the time he decided he should probably check on his brothers after avoiding them all day. 

The golden glow bathed the village in a warm, ethereal light as Branch and Poppy bid farewell at the entrance to her pod. He promised to be there for her and Viva's departure in the morning, sharing a kiss that lingered on Branch's lips even as he turned to leave.

Despite the relaxing afternoon he spent with his partner, Branch couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension gnawing at his insides on his trip back to the bunker. His brothers were still there, no doubt, and he almost dreaded going back. He knew he couldn't keep running away during every fight and that nothing was ever going to get fixed unless they worked on this together, but he just got so frustrated with them sometimes. 

It was always weird going home to find his brothers there waiting for him. He'd built the bunker, hoping they would one day come back and stay with him, but now that it was actually happening, he wasn't sure if he was overjoyed or pissed off. So many years waiting for them, but they showed up when he'd already given up hope of ever seeing them again. 

How ironic. 

Floyd and John Dory were basically permanent residents with him; they were the only two who hadn't left after Mount Rageous. Floyd's recovery put him on bed rest for a few weeks, and John stuck around, seemingly having nothing else better to do. They planted shallow roots in Pop Village for the time being, but he doubted it would last. A month had already passed since they all traveled the world to save one of their own, and though they hadn't mentioned leaving any time soon, he knew better than to get his hopes up.

Clay and Bruce's visits were different, however. 

Bruce had a family and a business and left two days after returning to Pop Village. Spending time with his wife and kids and running a popular tourist attraction/destination restaurant definitely kept him away from the village. And since Brandy had been away on a month-long yoga retreat, it wasn't like the purple-haired troll really had a chance to visit anyway. Usually, John Dory would have Rhonda take them up to Vacay Island to see him; this was the first time Bruce had come to stay with Branch instead. 

Clay, having responsibilities at Hole 'N Fun that prevented him from staying long, had returned to the golf course soon after Mount Rageous. He only visited when Viva came to see Poppy, which was more infrequent than Branch was expecting. They'd only come twice and stayed just a few short days before returning to the golf course. The distance was just too far for them to make it a regular thing. 

That will all change soon, though. The Putt-Putt Trolls were pretty keen on rejoining the rest of the kingdom in Pop Village, and as soon as Viva and Poppy returned after mapping out a safe route of travel, the Pop Trolls, all of them, would be reunited again.

Clay's visit this time had originally been about the relocation efforts, and had it not been for Poppy and Viva's spontaneous idea to take a sisters' retreat, he probably wouldn't have lingered long. Now, however, it would seem he was taking an extended vacation so the sisters could have a trip to themselves.

So, all four of his brothers were staying with him. It was the first time they'd all been together since rescuing Floyd.

He was still bitter and angry that they left him as if he meant nothing. After enough time with them, however, his fury subsided to background noise. He kept them at a distance but dialed down his hostility to live in guarded coexistence with them. He didn't trust any of them, not even a little; still, some childish part of him wanted them there. 

As much as Branch tried to deny it, there was a part of him that longed for the bond they once shared as brothers. A part that yearned for the days when they would laugh and play together without a care in the world. The days before Brozone. 

Branch had slowly begun to accept their presence in his life again, but his brothers made enjoying their company demanding. Instead of their extended stays with him bringing them closer together, it only seemed to widen the chasm between them. 

They fought. Constantly. And it was driving Branch  insane . 

His memories of his childhood were always a bit foggy, but he never remembered their arguments being so... vicious. 

The ones involving Clay and John Dory always got pretty nasty. The two just couldn't see eye-to-eye. John was stuck in the past, only remembering his brothers for who they were as kids and not as the trolls they were in the present. And Clay couldn't stand it. 

That isn't to say Bruce and Floyd didn't have their qualms with their oldest brother too; John still slipped up and called Bruce by his old name, and his constant hovering over Floyd made the fourth brother lose his composure once or twice. Branch had also snapped more than a pawful of times, tired of John treating him like a baby when he was a full-grown troll. 

He felt like he was constantly walking on eggshells, trying to avoid setting off another explosive argument. Floyd and Bruce's attempts at mediation often fell on deaf ears; Clay was headstrong and John Dory was stubborn. When those two argued, they basically tuned out the rest of the world. 

But amidst the chaos and tension, there were fleeting moments of connection that gave Branch hope. John's genuine attempts at reconciliation, however clumsy, reminded him that there was still some love buried beneath his difficult personality. 

Branch knew they could fix their relationship. He just didn't know how to go about it. That, and he didn't feel like it was his responsibility to fix it since they were the ones that broke the band up in the first place. 

Despite his reservations, Branch couldn't ignore the truth in Poppy's words. Both sides had to take accountability for their actions, and he was, unfortunately, on one of those sides. Reflecting on his own behavior, Branch was troll enough to admit he wasn't completely innocent either. He'd had his fair share of heated conversations, of pushing them away when they got too close. His girlfriend had never steered him wrong before, though. Well, ok yeah technically she has, but the Rockapocalypse doesn't count because he found the hot air balloon manual in the end. 

He decided there, in the middle of his walk home, that it was high time he put his own efforts into rebuilding things with his brothers. Maybe it would be pointless, and they would all end up leaving again eventually, but if he let them walk away without trying, he would have to live with the guilt that he could have done something to prevent it. 

It wouldn't be easy, and there was no guarantee of success. But Branch knew that he had to try. He owed it to himself. 

With a renewed sense of purpose, Branch continued on the path through the forest, ready to face his brothers who waited for him in his bunker. 

Maybe a camping trip wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Chapter Text

It was already past dusk by the time he returned to the bunker. 

After a peaceful walk home, with nothing but the crooning frogs and singing crickets as his company, Branch found himself standing on the welcome mat just before the hidden elevator entrance. 

Despite his wonderful day with Poppy, dread loomed over him like a storm cloud. He'd promised himself to start reciprocating his brothers' attempts, but he wasn't sure how. He'd spent the last month pushing them as far away as he could; now that he was finally willing to rebuild a relationship with them, he was at a loss on how to do that. 

It's not like he could suggest camping right off the bat. He wasn't exactly keen on that idea, nor was he too fond of their constant bickering to be willing to put up with them for that long. And they weren't exactly on good terms with each other either; he doubted a wilderness trip was something any of them wanted on the agenda. 

He could think of something else, something that they would all enjoy. But he knew nothing about them or what they liked. He flickered through his childhood, desperate to remember anything that might give him an idea. The moments spent with his brothers that he could remember felt more like fleeting encounters than cherished memories. He'd been too young and it had been so long ago; everything was fuzzy and tarnished by time. When nothing came to clarity, he realized his brothers were nothing but strangers to him.

How was he supposed to connect with a stranger? 

Branch sighed, his mind swirling with frustration and confusion. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being an alien among his brothers. They shared blood, yet they felt as distant as outsiders passing him by on the street.

How was he supposed to bridge the gap when he didn't even know where to begin? How was he supposed to trust them not to leave him again the second he opened up to them? 

Attempting to sort his suffocating thoughts was like piloting a hot air balloon without instructions; he'd already done that and once was enough for him.

Branch startled out of his reflections at the baying howl of some nearby critter that sounded too close for comfort. He'd been so distracted that he hadn't even realized how late it had gotten. His ears swiveled around, his tail twitching nervously as the predators in the woodland began their evening hunt. Darkness always brought danger, something he learned from years of living on the outskirts of the village.

He realized he couldn't delay any longer, preferring the safety of home to the uncertainties of the forest at night.

With a deep breath, Branch hopped down onto the elevator, the familiar creak of the machinery accompanying him as he pulled the lever and descended underground. 

He prepared himself for Armageddon, but as the lift crept lower and lower, he realized there was a strange lack of noise. 

The usual clamor of yelling and insults was weirdly absent. Instead, the sound of a calm discussion drifted to his ears. He realized the talking wasn't another argument, but a rather quiet conversation coming from somewhere in the grand expanse of his underground home. Branch's ears went to attention, trying to catch what was being said, but the groaning of the elevator prevented him from hearing anything clearly.

He was surprised; he was fully expecting them to be at each other's throats like normal. He wondered if they had resolved things after breakfast. They must have made up to some degree if they could have a discussion civil enough that he couldn't make out what they were saying. 

As he got lower to the ground, the smell of something familiar made him perk up.

The aroma reminded him of a dish Grandma Rosiepuff used to make him when he was just a little trolling. His chest felt cold at her memory. He'd forgotten how much he loved her cooking; the scent took him back to when he was young, and she would make his favorite meals to cheer him up. But he hadn't had her food in years, mostly because he wasn't sure he could handle looking at her handwriting in her cookbooks and he couldn't really remember a lot of her recipes off the top of his head either.

So what was that smell?

Curiosity peaked, Branch hopped off the platform once it had fully descended, following the voices and scents until he stood in the kitchen doorway.

John Dory and Bruce were orchestrating the stove, revealing that they were the cause of the memory-inducing scents. It was Grandma Rosie's infamous stirfry of peppers, onions, and sour-fruit peels. Branch remembered really enjoying this one. If he recalled correctly, though his mind had trouble thinking back that far, it was one of Clay's favorites too. 

The two eldest brothers danced around each other like they'd done this all their lives, their movements practiced as they tended to several different pans steaming on the stovetop. 

Branch could understand Bruce having an adept talent for cooking, with him owning a restaurant and all, and finding out John had a knack for it too was laughably expected. He'd spent so long on the Neverglade Trail in the wilderness; it made sense in the end, having to fend for himself and all. 

Aside from Branch, John did a lot of the cooking now that he was taking up residency in the bunker, and it was always enjoyable, as much as the younger troll hated to admit that.

The youngest brother didn't say anything just yet; making his presence known would interrupt their conversation, and he was interested in what they were being so hush-hush about.

They were speaking lowly enough that the sizzling food hid most of what they were saying, but he caught enough to know John was being scolded about this morning. Branch scrunched up his face, sour at the reminder of the argument that drove him out of his bunker earlier that day. 

The two were engrossed in a serious chat that Branch had just barely caught the end of. 

"You can't keep doing this, bro. You gotta lay off Clay, or he's just going to push you away again." Bruce muttered, shaking his head with a sigh akin to someone who had already repeated this statement several times. "The past is done. You need to start seeing him for who he is now; you can't label him like you used to." 

Branch glanced at John Dory's hunched shoulders, curious about his response. The eldest pushed around browning onions in a pan, a frown staining his usually confident demeanor. He nodded glumly at Bruce's scold but didn't say anything in return. 

The youngest brother awkwardly shifted in the doorway. He wondered if he should leave, but then he glanced at the only other troll in the room and paused. 

Floyd was seated at the dinner table, his chair turned so he could face the stove. He didn't seem bored—maybe a little tired—but he appeared content just watching as the meal prep sauntered without him. He supervised Bruce's coaching of John Dory, tail papping distractedly against the ground.

Branch's eyes caught the walking cane leaning against the back of Floyd's chair, and he frowned. 

He was still a little weak from the Mount Rageous circus, where Velvet and Veneer nearly stole all of his talent, but he'd become much better as the weeks progressed.

During those earlier days, when Floyd failed to get anywhere without help, Branch whittled a stick he found outside into a cane. Of course, Poppy and Viva decorated it with plenty of glitter and glued-on trinkets to make every grandparent in the village jealous. Seeing him hobble around with a hot pink twig with pompoms covering the handle was the tiniest bit funny.

Despite his progress in regaining his strength, there were still mornings when Floyd would wake up, and it would just be that kind of day for him. Branch assumed this was one of those times.

The pink-haired troll was the first to notice Branch, his face blossoming into a bright grin as he acknowledged his youngest brother's entrance. Branch wasn't sure how Floyd noticed him there, and actually startled when pink eyes were suddenly on him, but his brother seemed inclined to ignore his surprise. "There you are! We were wondering when you'd come back." 

His joyful greeting broke off the hushed reprimands of Bruce directed at John Dory and his 'insatiable ego' and brought a startled silence afterward. Both brothers jerked at Floyd's loud exclamation and turned to find Branch quietly observing them from the doorway. They seemed almost relieved that it was him, relaxing slightly as they smiled.

"Bitty B!" John Dory chimed in next, all too eager to drop the previous conversation to Bruce's annoyance. 

"Branch." He corrected stiffly. Any thoughts of making a quiet escape were impossible now that he was caught, so he awkwardly shuffled inside and stood behind a chair at the table to lean against it. 

"Where've you been all day?" The eldest continued as if Branch hadn't said a word, returning his attention to the sizzling pan of onions. "We haven't seen you since breakfast." 

' Avoiding you .' Branch bitterly thought, biting his tongue even though the words were begging to be said out loud. Saying as much would just upset them, and even though he liked to pretend he didn't care about their feelings, he knew that wasn't true. 

Instead of holding on to his scathing words, he replied, "I was with Poppy. She wanted to spend the day together before she left tomorrow." 

"Ooh, a day with the Queen?" Bruce didn't hesitate to poke fun at his youngest brother for his relationship with the Queen of Pop, always finding joy in teasing those in his family. 

Branch's face felt hot, and an irritated scowl wrinkled his face. He was used to constant jokes made at his expense, with him being the village outcast once upon a time. He could usually ignore jabs made at his pride, but when they came from his brothers, it irked him more than usual. 

He didn't know why it was such a big deal to them that his girlfriend was the Pop Trolls leader. It irritated him that they were so surprised when they found out, but he realized that was unfair; even he couldn't believe he'd managed to win over someone so wonderful. Still, their constant jibs about his relationship with Poppy were beginning to seriously grate on his last nerve.

Eager to change the subject, Branch redirected the conversation once he noticed one of the five of them was missing. "Where's Clay?"

A sudden tension filled the room, with John Dory visibly twitching at the name. 

Out of all the brothers, John Dory and Clay seemed to get along the least amount of times. Sure, Bruce and John had their spats, Branch lost his temper more than a handful of times, and even Floyd had drilled into their oldest brother about his old, meddling habits, but it was nothing compared to their middle sibling.

Because of John Dory's personality—speaking his mind without a filter, regardless of the impact his words might have—he made getting along with him difficult. It often seemed like he couldn't see the harm in his actions, despite his good intentions. While Branch understood that John wasn't purposefully reverting to his old, annoying habits, there were moments when those traits did resurface.

This morning became a clear example of that when John made a careless comment about Clay's business ownership, prompting an argument that quickly spiraled out of control. John called him 'the serious one' offhandedly, and it triggered a fit of anger in the middle brother none of them had seen since they were kids. Except he was older, more frustrated, and took even less of John's shit than before.

Any conversation the middle and oldest brothers had often ended up with them walking off fuming, which Branch assumed was what happened after he left. Since Clay wasn't here now, he could only assume he'd stormed off to get space.

John loved them; they all knew that, even Clay. However, he couldn't see how much he was hurting them.

Bruce patted John's arm silently, the look on his face seeming to say they would continue the talk about this morning later. He decided to have mercy on their eldest brother and let it go, for now, facing the stovetop again. 

"With Viva. She wanted to talk with him about her and Poppy's trip tomorrow. He seems pretty nervous about letting her go back to the golf course without him. Those two sure are... close." Bruce answered fondly, ticking the stove off but continuing to stir his skillet of sour-fruit skins. 

"Yeah,  really  close." Floyd stage-whispered, his eyebrows wiggling as he did.

Branch couldn't help a small smile; the tension in the room was alleviating but not completely fading. He silently agreed that, yeah, he also noticed how attached the two co-owners seemed to be. Viva and Clay reminded him of himself and Poppy but without the girlfriend/boyfriend status. 

His serious-mannered brother seemed to have a genuine soft spot for his co-owner but hadn't acted on those feelings yet. 

Suddenly, Floyd's eyes sparkled with mischief, breaking Branch out of his quiet reverie. "You think we should make a bet on how long it'll take him to ask her out?"

Branch couldn't resist a soft snort, caught off guard by the random idea. 

John Dory and Bruce didn't seem as surprised as he was about Floyd's suggestion to gamble, chuckles rooted deep in their chests blossoming above the constant clattering of their meal preparation. 

"I give it a year at the least." John tossed yellow peppers into the mix of onions, the sizzling escalating momentarily with the new ingredients.

"A year? Oh, ye of little faith, Johnny!" Bruce feigned disappointment, shaking his head with rosy cheeks.

Floyd, always quick with a witty remark, leaned forward with a playful grin. "Come on, John, where's your romantic side? I think Clay will work up the nerve in a month."

Branch watched the banter unfold, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as Floyd and Bruce badgered John about not believing in the power of love. For once, they were getting along.

It was still strange having his brothers stay with him, but Branch felt more at ease now. Rarely did they ever truly get along, so moments like these were special to him now. When they inevitably went back to their own lives and forgot about him again, he'd rather remember them as brothers, not enemies. 

Though he had previously been against the teasing at his expense, he guessed that since his brothers did it to him so much, maybe it wouldn't hurt to fight back. He still wasn't sure he could connect with them or understand them, but if he didn't try, he'd never find out how.

With tentative resolve, Branch decided to push beyond his comfort zone. "You know, I think I might have to go with Viva on this one." 

"Really?" Bruce drawled out, eyebrows raised in surprise as a gentle smile stretched his face. "Why do you say that?" 

Branch scuffed one of his paws against the ground, toeing the dirt beneath him as all eyes were suddenly on him. He swallowed, shrugging to play off his nervousness. "Well, Poppy was the one that asked me out." He admitted, nearing shyness with his tone. "I think making the first move runs in their family is all. Who's to say Viva won't be the one to confess first? I give it three weeks." 

His brothers exchanged baffled glances, buffering over the fact that Branch had actually contributed to their unserious bet. Then, hearty laughter filled the kitchen. Branch's addition to the conversation pushed the remaining awkwardness away for good, and a contentedness settled amongst the four brothers. 

"I think you're on to something there, B." John chuckled as Bruce passed over his pan of sour-fruit skins to add to the mixture of peppers and onions.

"We might be betting in a losing pool. Branch might have us beat." Bruce agreed, dusting off his paws now that his part of the meal was finished. He brushed through his long, purple hair, grinning at the youngest pridefully. He was elated that Branch was actually engaging with them, which was a new but welcome development. 

Floyd leaned forward, catching Branch's gaze. He tilted his head, sad bangs drooping to cover one of his eyes. "Why does it not surprise me that Poppy asked you first?" There was a twinkle in his eyes, a teasing grin jibbing into Branch's pride. 

Branch felt his cheeks burn again, more intensely than before, coughing into his fist in embarrassment. "Have you met Poppy?" It wasn't a secret that she was way more confident and outgoing than he was; he would be shocked if anyone thought he had the gall to ask the Queen of Pop out on his own. 

He felt something rattle the chair he was leaning against, his gaze darting down to see his brother's foot tapping against it. Taking a step back, the youngest gave him enough room to kick it out from underneath the table. Floyd then gestured to it with an ever-widening simper, a silent request to sit.

The younger troll blinked in surprise, eyebrows shooting up to the top of his forehead. He glanced from Floyd's pink eyes to the stool and back to his gentle brother. Unsure of the invitation to sit and talk with them, Branch hesitated. 

Floyd's smile only widened despite Branch's clear reluctance, a silent reassurance that he was more than happy to spend this time with him. Yet Branch couldn't help the doubt gnawing at the edges of his mind. What if this was all just a charade, a fleeting moment of harmony before they returned to their old ways? What if he was setting himself up for heartache once again?

Part of him longed to connect with his brothers, to bridge the canyon that had grown between them over the years of separation. He craved the sense of belonging that had eluded him for so long. But another part of him, scarred by all the betrayals and arguments, recoiled at the thought of opening up and allowing himself to be vulnerable once again.

Poppy's words echoed in his head. His brother was taking the initiative by inviting him to sit and chat. It would be unfair not to reciprocate when Branch had been the one complaining about not being able to get along with them.

Slowly, like a cautious animal offered food, he crept forward and gently plopped himself in the seat pulled out for him. 

Ignoring the unabashed surprise in response to his cooperation, Branch fiddled dumbly with his paws, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. 

Floyd's expression couldn't be anything less than elated, just grateful that his little brother accepted the invitation to sit with him. Bruce seemed bewildered, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the cool counter to observe. John Dory, probably still keeping his distance due to the tension between him and his younger brothers, didn't comment but did send a funny-looking gape of stupefaction over his shoulder. 

Obviously, none of them expected him to actually take the offer after having treated them like plague victims since Mount Rageous. 

"So," the pink-haired troll drawled out, not wasting this precious moment. "How exactly did you get so close to the Queen anyway?"

Branch was a little baffled. "She hasn't shown you her giant scrapbook? I thought she told you all about saving our friends from the Bergens."

Floyd hummed, leaning to arch his back after staying slumped for so long. "Well, I saw the scrapbook but couldn't really understand it; there was a lot of glitter. And it didn't seem like something she liked talking about, so I dropped the topic pretty quickly." 

The younger troll winced, well aware of this fact. Poppy always covered her true feelings with glittery enthusiasm and upbeat optimism. But she wasn't immune to negative emotions; she was just really good at hiding them. 

The Bergen Chef attacking Pop Village was not a fond memory, but the queen took sole responsibility for what happened. Even though no troll blamed her for the party she threw that day, they were all guilty after all, she still believed the whole ordeal was her fault. 

Not only was her village attacked under her responsibility, but all of her friends were kidnapped by the Bergen Chef, and one of her closest allies ended up betraying their whole village to save his own hair. 

Not to mention, all of the Pop Trolls turned gray, Poppy being the first to lose hope; the world had beaten her down to the bone, and no matter how many times she stood back up, she was knocked down again.

It got to her in the end, and all of her colors faded away, leaving a helpless, gray troll amid despair. 

Even if the Bergen attack on their village had brought him and Poppy together in the first place, Branch didn't like thinking about it either. The beginning of their friendship was toiled with destruction, treason, and defeat, something the queen wasn't used to experiencing after being shielded by the former King Peppy her entire life. 

If one really knew Poppy, understood her mannerisms, and her tenacious ability to guard her real feelings behind a smile, they could see how much the attack on their village really hurt her. 

Floyd must have noticed how she seemed so far away when speaking about it; the fact that he picked up on the queen's discomfort proved even further how big of an empath the second youngest brother really was. 

"Yeah, she doesn't really talk about it unless the kids in the village ask her to tell the story again," Branch replied distractedly, picking at some splintered wood on the table. "It's an unsaid rule not to bring it up, but the trollings love her stories, so it's hard to avoid."

"What about the Rockapocalypse?"

Glancing up, Branch settled his eyes on Bruce. The younger troll noticed the atmosphere had changed; his brothers' faces were now sporting frowns instead of smiles. "What do you mean?" 

Bruce shrugged, pulling out a chair of his own to sit on the other side of Floyd. "Well, it seems like a pretty taboo topic in Pop Village, too. I heard Queen Barb ripped through here and destroyed a lot, but John said that you and Poppy went to stop her. I would think that would be something you would be proud of, but neither of you talk about it."

"Oh." The younger troll felt his mouth go a little dry. "Yeah, that. We got into a lot of trouble on our way to the Rock Kingdom. She ignored King Peppy's advice, stole the Pop String, got us thrown in jail-,"

"JAIL?!" 

Branch nearly fell out of his chair, his paw going to his chest as his heart stuttered in fright at the sudden exclamation. 

He was served three wide-eyed, incredulous, open-mouthed stares. John had even whirled around from the stove, the pan still in his grasp, but he was rubbernecking Branch now instead of finishing the cooking. 

"You went to jail?!" John repeated, not believing his ears.

The youngest swallowed a nervous, almost guilty twitch of his lips upwards in a weak smile. "Uh... yeah? But we broke out afterward, so it was fine." 

"Wait, wait, hold on!" Floyd interrupted, leaning forward in enchanted curiosity. "Not only did you go to  jail , but you also broke out?"

Bruce shook his head. "What in the world did you do to get thrown in the slammer? No offense, but you don't seem like the crime-committing type." He relaxed against the back of his chair, eagerly awaiting an explanation as to why his kid brother was punished by law. 

Branch couldn't resist a snort because his brother couldn't be farther from the truth. "If crimes against music count, then we're pretty guilty." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Poppy wanted to show the Country Trolls our music, and we  may  have gone a little too hardcore for their liking. I tried to tell her ' Who Let the Dogs Out ' was a bad idea. We escaped, but that's when the bounty hunters started showing up."

"Bounty hunters?" Bruce blinked. "Dude, are you some sort of secret criminal?" 

Branch made a face, but couldn't really blame his brother for thinking as much. The whole Rockapocalypse ordeal had forced them to break a lot of laws in the other genres' territories; in the grand scheme of things, they really should be considered criminals. "Well, no, not really. They just didn't like our music. Poppy sent Queen Barb a letter and... it didn't go well. Queen Barb promised that whoever caught Poppy and found the Pop String would get to keep their genre of music. We got chased around for a while, but we got separated and Poppy was captured. I had to team up with the other bounty hunters to save her, but..." 

He flashed back to when he first arrived at the rock concert, remembering Barb pointing her guitar with all the strings at Poppy. He'd jumped to save her from the magical guitar riff, and wow, did it hurt when it first hit him. 

He didn't really recall what happened afterward, but from what he was told, he became a bona fide zombie of Rock. He just remembered coming too, and the whole stadium had gone gray and quiet, the musical strings of all the genres broken and fading away like sparkly dust in the wind. 

"I still can't believe you actually went to jail, but what's this Pop String you keep bringing up? I've never heard of it before." John asked when Branch's last sentence trailed off. The older troll turned his body to the open flame, returning the pan to its original spot. 

It would make sense that they wouldn't know about it. The Pop music string was a heavily guarded artifact amongst the tribe, and not just anybody knew about its existence. Well, that and Peppy was the sole King of Secrets. The Pop Trolls hadn't even heard of the strings until Queen Barb's world tour.  

Before Branch could elaborate, he heard a click elsewhere in the bunker. His ears twitched at attention, though Bruce and Floyd didn't seem to notice the noise and exchanged confused glances between each other. John, however, twitched at the same time Branch noticed the new sound; his own ears were also pointed towards the door where the almost indiscernible sound originated from.

Branch's years of living on the dangerous outskirts of the village taught him to always be aware of his surroundings; thanks to his rigorous training (survival), his hearing had become much better at picking up irregular noises around him. He could only assume the same for John Dory; the eldest had lived in the wilderness for troll knows how long, so it would be obvious he had the same skill. 

The blue-haired troll turned his head, hearing the familiar hum of the elevator he'd built following the suspicious click. 

Moments later, in strutted Clay, a clipboard and pen in his paw. 

Bruce straightened up, eyes wide, at the unexpected arrival of their final brother. His gaze darted to Branch, impressed that the younger had been able to hear Clay's arrival, but he covered it up with a bright grin directed at the third eldest. 

"Hey, bro! You're just in time! Dinner should be ready soon." He gestured to John Dory at the stove, who focused entirely on the pan, stiff as a board. 

Clay made a face at JD's back, something like a grimace, maybe a glare. Then he redirected his attention to the table of seated trolls, a laid-back smile on his face. "Cool. It smells like something Grandma used to make." 

"Yeah, Bruce and John Dory were cooking up some of her old recipes," Floyd chimed in, his usual cheeriness fronting despite the clear tension that had returned with the middle brother's arrival. His voice was strained, betraying his own nervousness at Clay's unexpected return.

Branch forced a tiny smile when his older brother turned to him, but his mask faltered under his perceptive gaze. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off and that Clay's presence had brought about the beginning of yet another surge of awkward suspense. The atmosphere that had come over them during their peaceful conversation had faded.

"Hey, I haven't seen you all day, B." Clay offered a kind grin, reaching out and pinching Branch's cheek like he always did. Even when his paw was swatted away with a glare from the younger brother, he didn't falter. "Where'd you go off to?"

"With Poppy," Branch muttered, rubbing his cheek sourly. He began picking at the wood of the table again, shifting uncomfortably at the undivided attention of his siblings. "I heard you were with Viva. You should be more careful at night. The critters out here attack as soon as it gets dark." 

The green-haired troll hummed in acknowledgment, reaching up to store his clipboard and pen in his hair so that his paws could be free again. "Yeah, we heard them. I made sure she got back to the village and stuck to the trees to get back here. That reminds me; I've been meaning to ask," He took a cursory glance around the smoothed mud walls of the kitchen, a peculiar frown on his face. "Why exactly did you build your bunker way out here in the first place? Doesn't seem all that safe to be so far away from the rest of the village." 

Branch stiffened immediately, caught off guard by the invasive question. Almost instinctively, his gaze darted down to look at his dull paws, the grayed stain of his fur staring back at him angrily. He was bluer than he used to be, but still a might colorless, all things considered. 

He wasn't ready to talk about that yet. Admitting that his suffocating paranoia had outcasted him from the rest of their fellow Pop Trolls wasn't an easy topic to broach. Not to mention, he didn't trust them with such a sensitive part of his soul. 

They wouldn't understand why his fear had driven him halfway to madness unless he told them what happened to Grandma Rosiepuff. He just wasn't prepared to air out that awful period of his life, nor did he feel like they really deserved to know since everything leading up to their grandmother's death could have been avoided had they stayed home. 

The only reason he was singing that day—the day their grandmother was taken away from him—was to be better for them. He always thought that if he became better and perfect, just like John Dory wanted, they would come home. He'd been practicing for them, but all he received from his dedication was losing the only troll he had left.

Something akin to fury bubbled in his stomach, replacing the comfortable air with his brothers like it had never been there. 

He shrugged, eyebrows knitted together. "The village is loud. I like how quiet it is out here." It was a half-truth, but they didn't need to know that he was scared the parties they'd thrown would attract Bergens. 

Maybe they caught on that it was too touchy of a subject to approach right now. Clay looked towards Floyd and Bruce for help, the other two shaking their heads in discouragement. Branch figured his response had not been what they wanted to hear. 

Clay nodded slowly, his green hair swaying with the motion. He seemed to accept Branch's explanation, though there was a lingering curiosity in his eyes. "Yeah, I get that," he said with a loose shrug, trying to mask his disappointment at the lack of elaboration. "Quiet can be nice sometimes."

Branch released a silent sigh of relief, grateful that Clay didn't press any further. 

"Dinners ready!" 

John Dory's voice cut through the ambiance like a hot knife to butter. He sounded so cheery, without worry, like he was trying to divert attention away from the sensitive conversation and Branch altogether.

If Branch wasn't so observant, he might have missed how John's smile was strained. His older brother always masked up any emotion he had with cockiness and aloofness, which was what he was doing now. His tail twitched, just barely perceptible, but Branch saw it. 

John Dory was nervous. 

Clay glanced over his shoulder at the oldest brother, still bitter about this morning. He held his tongue despite seeming like he wanted to lash out at any moment. John's expression shifted—more tense, but still that ever-confident smile. There was a line of tension between the two so thick that Branch believed if he walked through their gazes, he'd get clotheslined. 

Clay eventually decided to look away with a disgruntled sigh under his breath, his tail slapping the ground in silent frustration. John's shoulders deflated slightly, but he covered up his disappointment with his trademark grin of confidence.

He'd expected a world war when Clay returned home, but it would seem neither he nor John were ready to hash out their issues together. Branch didn't know if he should be worried about them bottling up their emotions like that, but he might start an argument if he brought it up. He instead decided to pin it to his imaginary corkboard to think about later. 

Floyd, one to keep the peace, eagerly jumped at the opportunity to prevent another argument. "Awesome! Thanks for dinner, John and Bruce. I hope it tastes as good as it smells." 

Bruce was already out of his seat, digging through Branch's cabinets in hopes of finding silverware and plates. Since it was his first time in the bunker, he was still unfamiliar with the layout of the kitchen. He eventually found the cupboard, pulling out five plates as John settled the hot pan on an oven mitt in the center of the table. 

"I wouldn't worry about that, bro. We know our way around a kitchen." Bruce beamed proudly, distributing the metalware around in front of five of the six chairs at the table. 

Though he had eaten a few hours earlier with Poppy, Branch felt his stomach growl at the enticing smell. It was just like the infamous aroma from Grandma Rosie's pod. It was uncannily similar; he couldn't help but reminisce about when she was still alive and making him meals she knew would cheer him up. 

The chair next to him scraped, and Clay took a seat on the other available side of him. His shoulders tensed a little, and he took a passive glance at his brother before forcing his focus on the plate Bruce sat in front of him. 

He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Clay's expression softened slightly at the sight of the familiar food, a flicker of emotion crossing his features before he masked it with indifference.

A heaping portion was slapped onto the ceramic, steaming and coated with thick juices from the sour fruit. Branch raised a brow at the unreasonable amount of food provided for him, only to be met with a cheeky smile from Floyd, who took charge of dividing the meal out. 

The blue-haired troll found himself twirling the fork in his paw around, carefully eyeing the food with curious hesitance. It wasn't that he doubted Bruce and John's cooking, but he wondered if it would taste like how their grandmother used to make it.

Grandma Rosie's sour-skin stir-fry was always a household favorite. She rarely ever made it, but it was when she did that mattered the most. After a hard day of practice, every Trollstice, or during times of hardship, she would serve up a steaming pan of caramelized onions and peppers with the sour fruit. It was her best meal by far, but she only ever served it when they were downed by the world. 

She knew it would cheer them up, no matter what the day had brought them. 

And with the first bite he took, all those feelings of comfort and warmth swarmed over his tastebuds. Golden memories of laughter and singing resonating from a treat-filled kitchen made him pause at the intense emotion rising in his chest. He could almost see Grandma's silhouette at the stove, whipping up something delicious to lift his spirits after a long day of missing his brothers, her kind, age-lined smile reminding him he was never truly alone. He stopped chewing altogether, letting the taste simmer in his mouth for far longer than necessary, so caught up in her memory that he hadn't noticed his dinner party had frozen almost in sync when he did.

"Branch?" 

He glanced up with a start, blinking to find all eyes on him and shimmering with worry. He swallowed the food in his mouth, the flavor still tingling with a familiar, bitter aftertaste to offset the sweetness of the cooked onions. 

"What?" His voice wobbled, his cheeks flaming hot as he cleared his throat free of sentiment. 

It was Bruce who had called out to him first, setting his fork down with a seriousness the beach-bummed brother didn't usually sport. "You okay?" 

"Was it too much sour-skins?" John added hesitantly, using his utensil to poke at the food experimentally like it would jump out at him. He seemed to know that wasn't the reason Branch had gone deathly still on the first bite, but he didn't want to be the one to point it out in case his concern was taken offensively. 

Branch, despite himself, actually chuckled. It sounded a little hysterical, but it was a laugh regardless. The eyes on him widened as a rare smile just barely turned his lips upwards, but he was already looking back down at the plate, avoiding their dramatically bewildered expressions. "No. No, it's good." He replied softly, fondly remembering their late grandmother and how much she showed her love to them through food. "It just... tastes exactly how Grandma used to make it."

The room fell into a momentary hush. He never mentioned Rosiepuff, whether out of grief or fear of them finding out the truth about what happened. To have him, of all trolls, bring her up so suddenly must have been a shock.

Clay's mask of indifference faltered briefly, his gaze softening as he looked at Branch. There was understanding in his eyes, knowing exactly what his youngest brother meant. It was almost as if the elderly troll was here with them, offering them her best dish to cheer them up just like old times.

Floyd cleared his throat, blinking several times to will the glassiness in his eyes away. A smile just as touched as Branch's graced his lips as he to turned his attention back to his serving of dinner. "Yeah, Grandma's cooking always had that magical touch, didn't it?"

Bruce nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "She had a way of making us feel better, even on the toughest days. That woman could cook better than anyone I know to this day."

John Dory remained quiet, his eyes distant as he stared at his plate. For a moment, it seemed as though he was lost in his own memories of their grandmother—a rare glimpse of vulnerability in his cocky demeanor. 

The meal continued in silence, but it was not awkward like Branch would have expected it to be. Instead, they ate with smiles on all their faces, thinking back on their personal recollections of their late guardian. 

All Branch could think about was how gentle her hugs were, how she could brighten up any room with a smile, and the way she celebrated with that same old crazy dance she always did when she won a game of rummy. The lullabies she used to sing them, yelling at scraped knees for hurting her precious grandbabies just to get a giggle out of them, giving them second helpings of dinner before having her first. 

She was someone who should be filling that sixth chair he'd carved with his paws for her.

The meal was almost over by the time any conversation came back to light. 

"So, Clay." Bruce was just about done, a few spare onions and peppers pushed to the edge of the plate. "What'd you and Viva talk about? She nervous about taking a solo trip with Poppy?" 

Clay perked up at the mention of his co-owner, an easy-going smile crossing his face. "Nah, she was more worried about me staying here. She thought I'd be mad they decided to make it a sisters' trip at the last minute, but I told her it was fine. Besides, now I get to spend a whole week in the village. I haven't really gotten the chance to see everything." He drummed his fingers against the table, the plate scraped clean, and his belly full. "I wanted to check out some of the safety hazards Poppy mentioned the last time I was here. This place still seems beat up from when Queen Barb did her whole world tour skit." 

Branch could agree with that. They'd fixed a lot of the damage with the Rock Trolls, who had returned shortly after the Rockapocalypse to help repair what they destroyed, but it wasn't danger-free just yet.

He knew there were more than a few branches just waiting to break off, making the pods strung up to them too unsafe to live in anymore. Temporary pods had to be built on the ground for the trolls on these branches until the damaged limbs could be brought down without harming the village's integrity any more than it already was. 

"Of course you would say that." Floyd laughed, standing up from his chair with his finished plate. "You and your safety precautions." 

Clay grinned, taking no offense to the teasing. "Hey, man. You'll thank me when a pod doesn't fall on your head. It never kills to be safe." 

Bruce pushed his seat out, taking Floyd's plate right out of his paws, despite the pink-haired brother's quiet objections that he could do it himself. "I'm sure the rest of the village would appreciate it too. I don't know why they haven't blocked those areas off yet." He deposited the dishes into the sink, turning the faucet hot as water filled the bowl.

The youngest troll joined Bruce, quickly waving the older troll away with a grumble. "Poppy's been really busy with the relocation is all. You should have seen this place before. It looks way better than it did after Queen Barb was here." He shrugged, gathering the pans from the stove as Bruce returned with the one from the table. "Plus, she has Smidge watching over that area, so no one wanders in unless it's on purpose. Poppy planned to have the limbs torn down when she got back."

John, who had been eerily silent for the majority of the meal and since Clay's return to the bunker, set his plate and utensils in the filling tub of warm water and soap. "Smidge? Is that the really tiny troll with the big bow? She's... strangely intimidating." JD shivered, remembering the first time he met the small troll with a huge personality. 

"Smidge is like that. She's super protective of the village after everything that happened, so she takes the jobs that Poppy gives her pretty seriously. Just don't get on her bad side; she's stronger than she looks." Branch stuck his paws in the water, wetting a sponge, and got to work on washing the dishes. 

Floyd chuckled from somewhere behind him. "Sounds like someone we don't want to mess with." 

Branch cringed. He'd seen enough of Smidge's temper tantrums to confirm it would not be a good idea to do anything to upset her. 

He glanced over, elbow-deep in soapy water. His eldest brother was lingering, just watching Branch as he did the dishes. "I got it, John." He finally stated, startling JD out of his staring. 

Having been caught, John laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as that sharp smile came back full force. "I just wanted to help." 

Branch narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, knowing that wasn't the reason he was hovering. He darted a look over his shoulder at Clay and Floyd, who were engrossed in a quiet conversation about safety protocols, then back to John, who stiffened under Branch's perceptive assessment. 

Bingo. 

He must be trying to avoid another altercation, and his way of accomplishing that would be to distract himself with more work. 

The youngest troll frowned knowingly, his tail flicking as the realization dawned on him. He made a motion, stepping closer to the middle of the sink so that JD couldn't wiggle his way into the chore without actually pushing him out of the way. Branch and John held gazes for a long while, John Dory's almost pleading while Branch's remained firm. 

' You need to talk to him .' Branch's gaze seemed to say. 

' I can't, ' John's eyes replied. 

Bruce clapped a hand onto JD's shoulder, startling the duo from their staring contest. He gave the olive-haired brother a gentle shake with a beaming grin. "Come on, Johnny. Take a load off; you've been cooking even before I came to help. Branch can do a few dishes." The purple-haired troll jerked his head to the table toward Clay. He obviously agreed with Branch that this was something that needed to be fixed. 

John paled, knowing that anything he said to Clay now would probably be misinterpreted. He shook his head quietly back at Bruce, who frowned in disappointment at the eldest's refusal to address the elephant in the room. 

Branch resumed his task of doing dishes, letting the silence linger for a few tense moments, before a soft sigh leaving his lips. He wasn't exactly keen on letting John sweep this under the rug like usual, but if JD didn't want to talk to Clay tonight, there was no point in trying to force him. Branch shuffled back over quietly, keeping his eyes trained to working the suds into the stained utensils and plates, but his intentions were clear enough. He created more room than before, a spot perfect for one more troll. 

He wouldn't make this a regular thing, allowing John to run away from the problem, but for tonight, he would let it slide. The running from their problems thing that his family had going on right now wasn't doing anyone any good. 'Hypocrite' a voice in the back of his mind echoed, one that was promptly ignored.

John breathed a relieved puff of air out of his stiff chest, relaxing so much that he might as well have just sunk to the floor. Wordlessly, he joined Branch at the sink, the task of drying off every dish handed his way his sole focus. 

Bruce conceded, though reluctantly, dismayed that no closure would come tonight. He backed off, retrieving the final plate from the table and half-joining in on teasing Clay when Floyd started to jib at the middle brother for his over-preparedness. 

Eventually, the conversation turned into curiosity about how Bruce's family was fairing on the island, which the proud father of thirteen was more than happy to share stories about. 

With them distracted, Branch quietly bumped his shoulder into John, who was lost in thought. The older troll cast him a confused glance, but the blue-haired troll refused to meet his eyes. 

"Eventually," Branch whispered over the water, wiping syrupy sauce off one of the clay plates he'd gotten in a present from Biggie, "you have to talk to him."

John turned back to the dishes, lips pursed. "I know." 

Neither spoke after that, just listening to Bruce's exciting story of Brandy saving his life from a rip current when they first met as they finished their work. When the conversation had shifted to that, Branch wasn't sure, but it was entertaining enough to listen to as background noise as the final dinner chore was being wrapped up.

And just like that, dinner was over, the kitchen cleared of mess, and the brothers were full of delicious food. The lingering shadow of this morning's argument remained unaddressed. Clay and John still refused to look at each other, the former still irritated and the latter trying to avoid overstepping boundaries again. 

"I'm pretty beat." Bruce yawned, stretching his paws over his head before fixing his styled hair and adjusting his black and white vest. "I think I'll call it a day. We have to be up early to see the girls off tomorrow." 

"Old age finally catching up to you?" 

"Can it, Floyd." 

The pink-haired brother snickered, supporting his body with his infamous blinged-out cane. "I think I'll head in too. Night, guys." 

Soft murmurs of goodnight resounded between them, Branch muttering his own farewells as they all split off to their respective rooms. 

His eyes bore into John Dory's back as the eldest trudged down the hall, an unusual slump to his shoulders as he meandered off to his room to rest, his tail dragging behind him limply. Clay also watched John Dory, despite already having his paw on the door knob. The green-haired troll shook his head, sighing as he refrained from speaking up before disappearing inside.

It would seem there really would be no resolution tonight. How predictable. 

He had hoped that this dinner would be the opportunity they needed to bury the hatchet and forget about this morning. But it seemed that the wounds ran too deep for immediate reconciliation.

Branch lingered in the hallway, listening to four doors click open and clap shut. 

Instead of going to his room, he headed down a separate hallway from the bedrooms. He knew he had to be up early, but he wasn't tired enough to go to sleep yet. He wandered into the living room, a nagging voice in his head that sounded like his lovely girlfriend driving him towards the bookcase tucked away in the corner of the vast room. 

He brushed his paws over the dusty books, scanning for one that would be of interest to him. He saw a few that Clay had stuffed into the mix, claiming they were classics that he needed to read. He planned to, eventually, but not tonight. Some old cookbooks (Grandma Rosiepuff's of course, but they'd been untouched and unopened since he'd stuffed them into the case with the rest of his literature), a few geology issues, and some funky magazines Poppy kept here for when she visited. 

Branch's paw paused on the dirty cover of what he had been looking for.

Branch carefully lifted the old textbook from the shelf, noting its worn leather cover. The dark green hue had faded with age, and the surface was marred by years of use, with spots of discoloration likely from dirt and moisture. The words on the cover were faded and smudged, with gold lettering painted on the surface. 

World Forestry. 

Queen Essence had gifted it to him on one of their visits when he expressed an interest in the world outside of the village, but he'd completely forgotten about it until now. He stared at the words for a long minute, contemplating cracking the spine. He didn't want to entertain the idea of camping with his estranged siblings, but again, Poppy's disembodied voice encouraged him to look inside. 

He found pages and pages of different maps, histories, and adventures written on the stained yellow paper. Paragraphs describing species of fauna and flora he drank up like a sponge covered every page, hand-drawn pictures of jungles and woodlands from front to back. Flowers he'd never even heard of, crudely scratched images of critters that seemed like imaginary fables, trees even taller than the ones that housed the Pop Village. 

Branch stood there, soaking up the first few chapters, before landing on something peculiar. It was a forest, pretty close to the village, but he'd never heard of it before. 

"Melodtree Grove..." 

He muttered it under his breath, paw brushing the weathered page in interest. On the map, it was just a few hours away, right on the edge of the uncharted lands. There were many images: huge, lush canopies, vines, and flowers probably larger than he was. He didn't see anything about any creatures living in this forest—docile or aggressive. 

It seemed like a pretty safe area. Not a whole lot of mountainous areas, a few rivers and brooks carved into the etched drawings, and lots of flat, open clearings. 

He wondered why he'd never heard of this forest before, but obviously, that was a foolish thought. The Pop Troll territory was vastly unexplored; the villagers weren't too keen on adventures and usually hung around areas they knew weren't dangerous. Several years of Bergen slavery and farming bred them to be cautious and wary of new things nowadays. Usually, the life-risking journeys were left up to him and Poppy, but even they'd never gone that far west before.

As he read on, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The chapter about this particular forest was pages shorter than any of the other sections. 

The author, whoever that brave soul may be that traveled to so many places and charted everything in this book, wrote very fondly about Melodtree Grove, claiming it a peaceful and serene environment almost devoid of any danger. 

But that was just it. If this troll liked this forest so much, why was there so little written about it? 

Branch hummed to himself, flipping through a few more spots but ultimately ending right back in the same passage. He would have to remember this mysterious Melodtree Grove. If he changed his mind and ended up scraping enough courage to ask his brothers to join him on a trip of their own, this place might be the best option. 

But that was for the future, tomorrow Branch to worry about. He tucked the book under his arm, memorizing the page number at the beginning of the chapter, and finally retreating back to his room. 

Once inside, the door closed behind him, and he deposited the book on his desk to reevaluate with fresh eyes in the morning. 

As he stared up at the ceiling, blanket tucked under his chin, Branch let his mind wander. The outlandish possibility that his brothers would agree was almost laughably pathetic, but there was a blister of hope deep beneath the ulcers of fear.

Maybe, just maybe, Poppy was right, and this could be the chance they all needed to get whatever was bothering them out of their system. He could tell them about Grandma Rosiepuff, about turning gray, what it was like to live in solitude surrounded by dangerous beasts that lurk in the forest outside of the village, and how angry he was at them. 

Branch laughed, bitter and quiet. That would be the day. 

He drifted off, fantasies of reconciliation fading as his mind shut off for the day, and he entered a dream of sky-touching trees and clear water. 

Chapter Text

When it started, he stood encapsulated in a lush field, surrounded by the peaks of two towering mountains. A valley carved out by thousands of years of erosion and landslides stretched past the clearing between the sky-scraping cliffs above him. It was so open and empty, yet the entire ravine felt full of life and wonder.

The air was busy with the hum of insects and the delicate rustle of leaves from the surrounding forests of cloud-soft willow trees. Colorful blossoms decorated the landscape, their petals dancing in the sweet-scented gale that breezed a coolness in contrast to the dazzling sun above. Butterflies flitted from flower to flower, adding to the magical energy the valley was soaked in. 

In the distance, he could hear the soothing song of a trickling river, its crystal-clear waters winding their way through the valley like a cerulean ribbon. The water cascaded over smooth, black stones, creating miniature waterfalls that sparkled in the sunlight.

He'd never felt peace like this before. It was a scene of unparalleled beauty, a sanctuary he selfishly wanted to keep to himself. 

But then, the ground shook and split, dirt and rocks crying out as they were shaken from the base of the mountains, joining him as they all fell into the crack and descended into the blackness of the parted earth. 

He hit the ground, the oxygen in his chest forced out of his chest at the impact, and he lay breathlessly on his back as he stared at the blue sky fading behind a black smog that smelled like death and coals.

Where was he? Why was it so dark? And the air tasted weird as he sucked in harsh inhales, lungs burning on toxic fumes and burning foliage.

He looked around, waving smog from his face with harsh coughs and sputters. What kind of forest is this? These trees were different, taller, and thicker than the ones in Pop Village and the willows he had been standing amidst just moments ago.

Fire and black pillars of thick fog surrounded him, the source of the smell and poisonous air in his lungs. Flames devoured the trees, swallowing everything green into the conflagration and spreading fast with the wind. Hot ash rained all around him, covering his blue fur, sticking to his eyelashes, and resting against the tip of his nose. 

He coughed, using his arm to shield his eyes as he tried to recognize his surroundings. He was trapped, smoldering logs and smoke too thick to walk through, blocking his escape. 

Something splintered, and a loud crack came from behind him, he whirled around just in time to realize one of the great pines was falling. 

He hit the deck, diving out of the way and covering his head with his paws as the tree creaked and finally snapped with a deafening roar. It crashed against the forest floor, raining heat and molten bark over him. He scrambled on his knees, brushing hot coals off his back in his desperate crawl to safety. 

What was going on? Why was he here? Where was he? He was scared and lost and cornered. 

A violent coughing fit doubled him over , crippling him into a curled-up mess on the forest floor. He couldn't breathe, and his body hurt. He needed to get up, to move out of the fire, and find somewhere to rest. But he couldn't; he had no energy left, and the flames were slowly suffocating him. 

His strength drained away like water through his fingers, leaving him gasping and helpless, too weak and too breathless to move. 

Closing his eyes, he lay there, gagging on smog, preparing himself for the inevitability of death. 

But there was something there—a cry above the crackling blaze. Though completely spent on energy and life, his ears twitched to attention. Someone was calling out to him, screaming his name. 

Who was it? It couldn't be Poppy; her voice wasn't that deep. 

But he recognized them anyway. He just couldn't give a name to the voice just yet. He couldn't focus enough to do that. 

Then, more voices, all shouting his name, desperation, and fear sewed deep in their tones. He felt comforted by their voices, like he'd been waiting for them this whole time, hoping they would come for him. 

He tried to call back to them, but all that came out was a croak, followed by more hacking. 

There was nothing more he could give; his consciousness was blinking in and out of focus until he couldn't even think anymore. The litany of crackles, splintering wood, and fading voices was his only comfort before it all went black. 

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Branch's eyes flew open in a daze, a familiar dirt and mud-covered ceiling staring back at him. 

His heart was in his throat, pounding against his skull as the adrenaline of his disturbing dream slowly ebbed away. Images of the unfamiliar forest and the paralyzing pain in his chest faded like they'd never been there to begin with. He calmed his shot nerves with a deep breath and a slow exhale, rubbing his tired paws over his face. He relaxed into the soft cushion of his cotton-filled mattress, realizing he was at home and safe.

What the heck was that? He'd never dreamed of anything like that; most nightmares were about the Bergens or his grandmother, sometimes him as a trolling watching his brothers walk away from him and each other, but this one had been particularly intense. The fear had felt so real that he was still calming his erratic heart. 

Branch swallowed, his throat scratchy from a long night of open-mouthed breathing. What a way to start the day, he thought sarcastically, sighing. 

The blue-haired troll shuffled his arms underneath him, pushing himself into a sitting position. He scrubbed his eyes groggily, shaking away the sand-grain remains of sleep with one final yawn.

When he finally reopened them, his gaze fell on the desk adjacent to his bed. The book he'd taken from the shelf last night glared back at him, reminding him of his unprompted curiosity about the nearby forests and the camping trip he was too nervous to bring up to his brothers. 

He frowned, rolling out of the quilt Poppy had made for his birthday, his paws touching the cold, dirt floor as he made his way over to his desk. 

His paw brushed the worn cover, a peculiar frown gracing his face. He flipped through the thicker chapters to the page number he memorized last night that had caught his attention. 

He wasn't sure why, but he was immensely curious about this Melodtree Grove. The author wrote so little about it but seemed incredibly fond of this mysterious forest. What was so special about it? Was it really as magnificent as it was written to be? The images in its' section made it seem so beautiful; he was almost jealous of the troll who got to see this place in person.

It was just weird that he'd never heard of it before. But the Pop Trolls weren't really explorers. They had the Bergens to thank for that; their maps lacked luster, to say the least. If Queen Essence hadn't graciously gifted this geography book to him, he might have lived in blissful ignorance forever too. 

His wanderlust was almost overwhelming now. Thanks to his crazy nightmare, he was now wondering if his research the night before had been the cause for such an abrupt awakening. The same willow trees and wispy flowers between two tall mountains he'd seen in his dream were depicted in this chapter about the grove he was so interested in. 

He needed to see this place. He wasn't sure he could get it off his mind after something like that, and the coincidences were too suspicious to ignore. 

He wondered if, with Poppy and Viva going on their trip today, maybe he wouldn't mind heading out and seeing this grove for himself. It seemed safe enough; there were no dangerous creatures living there that this author wrote of. Would it be so bad to check it out? His original plan  was  to go camping; he shouldn't have to think twice if he wanted to visit somewhere new because that was the whole idea.

His adventures with his girlfriend, despite how dangerous and unprompted they had been, had spurred in him a genuine desire to see the rest of the world.

He didn't see why he couldn't. With Poppy gone, he'd probably have nothing better to do than hang around his bunker and hang out with his brothers, but that was a different kind of nightmare than the one that had woken him up this morning. 

He could invite them to join him to see this Melodtree Grove; he'd only researched the nearby forests for something, anything, that they could do to bond. He'd promised himself and Poppy that he'd think about the camping idea, and since he had, he'd decided... that it wasn't a horrible suggestion.

Depending on how today went, Clay and John Dory might still not be on speaking terms for a while. And Floyd was still recovering from Mount Rageous; a camping trip would probably negate all of the progress he's made so far if he pushed himself too much. Bruce didn't seem like the kind of troll who liked to rough it out in the wild. 

But, maybe they wouldn't say no; it was a small, pathetic chance, but still a chance nonetheless. It wouldn't take long to get there if they had Rhonda, and he really wanted to see if this forest really lived up to the author's praise. 

He wasn't sure if they would go for it, but he guessed it wouldn't kill him to ask if they wanted to join him. Either way, he'd be making the trip even if it took him all week to get there without Rhonda's help.

That was a conversation for later, though. Branch needed to get ready and have some breakfast if he was to be in a good mood to see the two sisters off. They wanted to leave early in the morning so they weren't traveling at night for too long; as he said the day before, darkness brings danger, something he was sure neither queen was unaware of.

With a final stretch of his arms over his head to pull out the stiffness in his back, the blue troll finally left his deskside to slink out of his bedroom. 

It was quiet, but then again, it was a little earlier than any of them needed to be awake. The sun probably wasn't even up yet. He knew sleep was unattainable now; thanks to his nightmare, he was too wired up in his thoughts and anxieties to get any more rest than he'd already been blessed with. 

There was no smell of anything coming from the kitchen, so he knew he was the first awake. He might as well go in there and start a pot of coffee since he knew all four of his brothers drank it. He wasn't much of a bitter bean enjoyer, but he occasionally drank some if his day started with him being sluggish. He mostly stuck with teas since finding herbs and leaves to boil was much easier than scavenging for wild coffee beans.

Really, he would have been fine never drinking coffee, but for some reason, every time he stumbled on one of the plants during his foraging runs, he always found himself picking the beans off and bringing them back to the bunker. When he was younger, he'd always believed his brothers would come back someday, and when they did, they might appreciate the smell and taste of one of their favorite drinks. But as he grew older and the realization that they were long gone slowly settled in, he stopped gathering them, and the cupboard of jars and jars of coffee beans he kept tucked away in preserves slowly began to gather dust. 

They remained untouched until one nosy Clay had been poking through them as he did a personal inventory count during one of his short visits, and after that, every morning was filled with the sour aroma of espresso. 

The beans were stale and probably unhealthy for consumption, but his brothers drank them anyway, for whatever reason. 

Branch yawned as he entered the kitchen, saying one final goodbye to his night of sleep before he shook the remaining tiredness off his body to start the day. 

He rummaged through the cupboard above the sink, finding the yellow and purple kettle that Poppy had made as a Palentine's Day gift for him. His stomach always somersaulted when he saw it, a gentle reminder that his girlfriend's presence was always in places he least expected.

He filled it with water, flicking the knob of the stove to ignite a flame. As he waited for it to boil, he prepped some ground beans into a filter with a glass pot underneath it to catch the coffee as it seeped through. He then extracted four cups, a fifth of which he would fill with tea for himself after his brothers' drinks were finished.

Humming something soft to himself, a love song he'd been working on for Poppy that was still in the works, Branch didn't pick up on the dragging sounds of footsteps until they were at the door. 

Usually, he was more aware of his surroundings, but he supposed he was still a little distracted. His ear swiveled before his head did, the song in his throat dying like a snuffed match once he realized he was not alone. 

His eyes found green hair, a blue body, and a green, crocheted leotard. Electric yellow eyes zeroed in on Branch, blinking in surprise. 

"You're up early." Clay offered a gentle smile, softening toward his youngest brother, as usual. He may seem coarse, but that was just with John Dory; he obviously had a warm spot for his brothers, especially the two youngest. 

The middle brother's shoulders dropped, and that was when Branch finally noticed how tense he'd been when he first walked in. The blue-haired troll narrowed his eyes at the odd behavior, but Clay was already strutting in like he owned the place, promptly pulling out a chair from the table and plopping himself into it with a lax yawn. 

"I thought you were John Dory. He's usually up first." That would explain the suspicious stiffness when he'd first entered. 

It was true enough. For someone who seemed like the opposite of a morning person, John Dory was usually up before everyone else in the middle of making breakfast. Branch was the second one awake, only the first if JD slept in, so today was a rare surprise. It was thanks to his night terror that he was able to beat his oldest brother, though. 

Branch had only spent a few nights with Clay, but he was parallel with Branch's sleep schedule, so they often entered the kitchen around the same time. This was one of those things that Branch hadn't expected but seemed like a palpable trait that Clay would grow into. Now that he was more responsible than when he was a teenager, it felt right that the new version of his brother would naturally be an early riser. 

Branch vividly remembered all of the times John Dory had had to make four, sometimes even five, trips to Clay's bedroom to wake him up before the yellow-haired troll would finally grumble his way into Grandma Rosiepuff's kitchen. 

He blinked at the unexpected memory. He didn't even know he could remember things from so long ago. Sure, he had fuzzy glimpses of things that happened when he was a kid, but most of it was overshadowed by his brothers' leaving and his grandmother's death. 

His attention returned to the kettle when the boiling water snapped him out of his daze. "Yeah, some dream woke me up, so I thought I could get started on breakfast." The youngest busied himself as he poured hot water through the coffee grounds to collect in the pot underneath. He didn't face Clay, even when he said, "John will probably be in here in a few minutes. You can't be mad at him forever, you know."

A tired sigh met his ears, making him frown. "You too, huh? Bruce and Floyd have already chewed me up for it. I know I overreacted; I get it, alright?" Clay's voice was stained with irritation, making Branch still at the aggressive response. He hadn't meant to anger his brother, but maybe he did come off as a little condescending.

He set the empty kettle off to the side, unsure how to respond after unintentionally making things worse. 

"I..." He hesitated, his tail flicking nervously as he kept his back to his brother. "I don't think you overreacted. I didn't mean it like that. I just know that hanging on to stuff like that isn't fun, is all."  

Clay shuffled in his seat behind him. "Right." His voice was strained, but he had the decency to sound sheepish. "Sorry, I shouldn't have snapped like that. Things have been tense since I got here, haven't they?" He chuckled, but it was dry and humorless. Still, he sounded genuinely apologetic, which helped soothe Branch's nerves.

"It's not all your fault. Things are always tense. John is difficult to get along with sometimes. He means well, but..." Branch's voice trailed off as he struggled to navigate his feelings about his oldest brother. It wasn't always easy dealing with JD, but it wasn't entirely impossible. 

Clay wasn't exactly innocent either, though. His conversations with John were far from pleasant, to put it mildly. He didn't make it easy for JD to reconcile for his actions and often gave the oldest the cold shoulder when they were together. He was just as guilty of the rifts in the relationship as John.

Branch steeled his usually more unconfident nature, refilling the kettle to boil more water before scooping up the nearest cup and offering it to Clay.

The brothers met gazes, ocean blue and dandelion yellow sparking at the contact. "None of us are perfect. And even though it doesn't feel like it all the time, I think John's really trying his best to fix all of this. He just... doesn't know how."

Clay took the mug, resignation coating his expression. He searched Branch's face, eyebrows furrowed with contemplation. He seemed to understand what the youngest was leading up to. There was a flicker of uncertainty in the green-haired troll's eyes, a fear of once again being hurt by their brother, prominent in his demeanor. 

Branch offered a ghost of a smile. He knew those emotions all too well not to recognize them. "He can't do all the hard stuff for us by himself. Maybe... it wouldn't hurt if we started meeting him halfway. Someone once told me it's alright to be upset, but you can't let it stop you from trying. If you gave him another chance, he might surprise you."

Poppy's guidance strikes again at being the solution to everything. He found himself thankful for her once more. 

There were a few more moments of silence, Branch fiddling with his paws nervously as he wondered if he'd managed to anger Clay once again. The middle brother kept staring at him, even though the youngest had torn away from the eye contact the second it got quiet. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Clay nodded, though it was a slow movement that Branch would have missed had he not been watching out of the corner of his eye. 

His expression grew a fondness that hadn't been there before, the middle brother breathing out something that sounded strangely like a laugh. "You sound way too much like Viva." 

"Well, I get all of my advice from Poppy, so that's probably why. They're similar like that." Branch admitted, though he wasn't ashamed to say as much. He was incredibly proud to reveal that all his wisdom had originated from his beloved partner.

Clay chuckled more prominently than before as he looked over his youngest sibling with newfound consideration. He earnestly recounted Branch's words, mulling over them with less stress visible in his weathered body.

"I guess you're right, though. Or rather,  Poppy  is right. I haven't made it easy for him." Clay glanced down at the dark liquid in his cup, grimacing. He then reached over, grabbed a few sugar cubes from the sugar jar in the center of the table, and dropped them into his coffee to sweeten it. "I can't help but get mad every time he brings up the past or mentions things I did as a kid. It just... feels like John doesn't see I'm a full-grown troll now. It's so frustrating."

Branch almost scoffed, resorting instead to an exasperated huff. He turned on his heel, filling the remaining mugs with steaming bean juice before replacing the kettle on the open flame to heat up more water. "You think you're the only one? You guys treat me like a kid all the time. Not a day goes by that someone doesn't call me-"

"Bitty B!" 

This time, he did scoff, muttering something unintelligible under his breath as his point was proven.

A peppy, carefree voice that was unmistakably John Dory's pierced through the air like a knife. The blue troll and leather coat combo waltzed in with an air of confidence, thanks to his cocky personality. "Hey, coffee! You read my mind, little brother!" 

Branch rolled his eyes but offered the eldest a cup nonetheless. He made a gesture for Clay directed at John Dory, an ' I told you so ' look on his face. Clay's lips quirked up ever so slightly at the absurdity of the timing, realizing that he wasn't the only troll dealing with the same issues. 

John noticed Branch's movements, turning partially to see who his youngest brother was motioning toward before his smile vanished like ash in the wind. His eyebrows jumped up in surprise, shoulders shooting to his ears as the odd stiffness from the night before returned in full force once he realized Clay was also in there with them. His tail, held high in the air, slowly fell limp to the floor as his enthusiasm drained out of his entire body. 

He looked frozen with how still he had gone, panic leaking into his stalky build. His wide blue eyes went unblinking for several of the following moments. Clay returned the stare, emotionless, but that was how he always looked at John lately: unamused. 

Branch wondered if he should say something since Clay's lips seemed glued shut, and John Dory was ready to faint.

Then, like it never happened, JD relaxed, a simple but uncertain grin replacing the anxious frown. Branch didn't like how John bottled up what he was thinking, instead going for that weird overconfidence he used to cover his emotions, but decided to let it slide. 

"Morning, bro. Are you, uh, ready to see Viva off today? She seems excited about this sisters' retreat." The green-haired troll gripped the cup of coffee Branch had given him hard enough to turn his knuckles white under his blue fur; the youngest noticed this but again didn't comment.

Clay didn't say anything for a long moment. Then, his gaze flickered over to Branch, the youngest expectantly returning the stare. The middle brother felt his blue-haired brother's judgment and dread cast all over Clay's face as he slowly met eyes with John Dory again. 

"I guess. I'm worried since it's a long trip, but I know Viva can handle herself." He forced his gaze down to his mug of coffee with that, seemingly putting the topic at a standstill. 

Though he didn't say much, Branch figured it was an improvement. He would have thought Clay would ignore John Dory entirely, but maybe he was considering Poppy's advice. It was a rocky start, though at least it was something. 

"Oh. Well, the girls seem pretty tough. I'm sure Veevster and Poppy-Seed can hack it." John relaxed a little, but the atmosphere was awkward with baited silence. He appeared ready to say more but hesitated at the cold shoulder the green-haired troll gave him. 

Branch, feeling like he was overstaying his welcome, although this was  his  kitchen, seemed to catch on that there was more John wanted to express. He grabbed the separate sugar jaw he kept above the sink, adding sugar cubes to Floyd and Bruce's drinks since he knew they couldn't stand the bitterness. Then, the youngest scooped up the two remaining cups, the movement not going unnoticed by his older siblings. He slipped in between them, making his way towards the exit. 

"I should wake up Floyd and Bruce. Make sure the water doesn't boil over for me." It was a lame excuse, but neither Clay nor John stopped him as he flew out the door. 

It was so stuffy in the kitchen that the second he'd escaped, Branch sucked in a sweet, relieved breath. He hadn't realized how heavy the air had gotten when John entered, but he was glad to be out of there. 

Hopefully, they could have a mature conversation without supervision. The youngest pleaded that they wouldn't fight again, especially not today. Branch would prefer to not send the girls off in a bad mood. Speaking of which, if he didn't get this coffee in Floyd and Bruce's paws soon, they might end up the grumpy ones instead. 

He traveled the familiar dirt walls and mud-coated floors to the bed chambers, six closed doors awaiting him at the end of the foyer. He juggled the mugs in his arms, gently knocking on the first door he approached that he knew held one of his brothers inside.  

A bright-eyed, blue-skinned, and purple-haired troll opened the oak wood wide enough to see who had disturbed him. Bruce beamed at the welcoming sight of his youngest brother and the enticing aroma of his favorite morning beverage. He seemed like he'd just woken up, barely having one of his arms through his iconic black and white flowered vest and his usually perfect hair a little messy. 

"Hey, bro!" Ever the jolly guy, Bruce didn't hesitate with a delighted greeting. He glanced toward the cups in Branch's paw, his smile widening even further. "Oh, thanks. I was just about to go make some. Any of the others up yet?" 

Branch nodded, jerking his head back in the direction he had come from. "John and Clay are in the kitchen right now." He explained carefully.

Bruce blinked, pausing in his movements to finish dressing himself. He hesitantly sent a startled look down the hall, apprehensive of what that could mean. The purple-haired troll's little sonars on each side of his head twisted to attention, listening for raised voices. Bruce only relaxed when nothing of the sort met his ears. His purple eyes glanced back at Branch expectantly, seemingly hoping for good news.

"It didn't seem like they would fight, so I decided to give them some privacy. Figured I'd warn you so they could talk things out." The blue-haired troll continued, waiting for Bruce to put his other arm through the vest sleeve before releasing one of the cups into his paws. 

The older troll wrapped his fingers around the warm mug, put off guard but not unthankful for his procured drink. He smiled, his eyes half-lidded, per usual, to go with his more relaxed demeanor. Since Branch seemed confident things would go alright, Bruce had no reason to think otherwise. 

"Seeing as I can't hear their conversation from here, I guess things are going well. Nice job, Branch." The purple-haired troll reached forward and ruffled Branch's greyish-blue crown, much to the younger's dismay. 

Branch shoved his brother's paw away with a grumble and hot cheeks. There was nothing to be praised for, and it was even embarrassing to be given any credit at all, but still, some infantile part of him did backflips at Bruce's compliment. The smaller troll cleared his throat, looking away from the other nervously. 

"I didn't do anything." He disagreed modestly, frowning back towards the kitchen as his tail twitched subtly behind him. 

It was true; he honestly only gave Clay a little advice. He knew it would take a lot more than that to get those two to really make up, but as someone who also held a lot of grudges, Branch had figured a bit of perspective might help in the long run. It would be up to John Dory and Clay to truly fix things between each other. 

Bruce chuckled, his laid-back demeanor bringing a sense of lightness to the air. "Well, you must have done something right. They haven't come to blows yet, have they?" He teased, nudging Branch playfully with his elbow.

"Let's just hope it stays that way." 

Both brothers turned at the new voice, Floyd's white to pink shadow-rooted hair coming into view in wild tangents created by sleep. He seemed tired but better than yesterday since his hot-rod cane was nowhere to be seen. He rubbed his paws into his pink eyes, the blueness of his face brighter than ever before. 

He smiled, stretching his arms above his head one final time before shaking away the sluggish aftermath of rest from his bones. "All this teenage drama is driving me crazy. Those two need a heart-to-heart." He thanked Branch when he was handed a steaming cup. His face brightened at the first sip, grateful that it was pre-sweetened to his liking and that he wouldn't have to suck it down black. 

"Teenage drama, huh?" Bruce sighed, swirling the liquid in his mug around thoughtfully. "I guess it kinda is like that. We all have our issues with each other, but it seems a little deeper for Clay and John. Those guys are giving me gray hair." 

"More than you already have?" Floyd snickered above the rim. Branch's usually stoic face cracked a small smile, hiding a chuckle behind a poorly placed cough, when Bruce shot a playful glare at the two of them. 

"You're one to talk, Mr. Cotton Top. You've beaten all of us with the white streaks you got going on." 

Branch noticed Floyd's face dim for a split moment, but it was so unnoticeable that he'd almost thought he'd imagined it. He wouldn't think it would be something his immediately older brother would be self-conscious about, but maybe it was more complex than that. 

It probably had something to do with  why  he had white hair. Branch could see that any reminder of Velvet and Veneer would be a taboo subject, and since the shadow roots Floyd now rocked were all thanks to the vicious talent draining he'd endured at the hands of those twins, he understood it might still be a touchy area for his brother. 

The youngest jotted down in his mental notebook Floyd's sensitivity to the mention of his white hair. 

Bruce didn't seem to catch Floyd's momentary relapse, but the pink-haired troll was already covering it with a devilish grin. 

"And I still look not a day over twenty." 

Bruce shook his head, his purple eyes sparkling with merriment at the unserious banter. "Yeah, yeah, alright. You wait, Floyd. There'll be a day you end up looking like someone's leather purse, and I can't wait to be the troll laughing in your face about it."

"Well, I'll just have to be the silver fox of the family in the meantime then. You won't be the heartthrob forever, Bruce." 

"Ok, as much as I would just love to hear the rest of this conversation," Branch interjected sarcastically before the brothers could keep going because who knows how long these two witty guys would be here exchanging creative insults if he didn't step in? "We're supposed to be somewhere. And personally, I would like some breakfast before we go. I think it's been long enough." 

Floyd and Bruce chuckled, putting an end to their battle of looks. 

"Right. Clay and John should be done hugging by now." Bruce joked, taking a long, drawn-out sip before joining his brothers in the hall. 

"Yeah, like they would ever do that. They have pride, you know." Floyd laughed, joining the march back to the kitchen to satiate their morning hunger with a hearty meal that hopefully wouldn't end in ruin. 

Branch followed them as they started a carefree conversation about toast and eggs. He glanced at the shut door of his bedroom as they passed it, thinking of the open book waiting for him to pick it up again. It could wait, of course, but he couldn't help but be both anxious and excited to learn more about the weird forest inside its pages.

Shaking his head, he followed his older brothers back to the kitchen, forcing his curiosity to wait for later. Thankfully, the dining area hadn't become the scene of yet another disagreement. John and Clay, though they weren't talking, were contentedly making breakfast in their shared silence. Whether they actually hashed things out or just decided to get over their issues wasn't exactly clear, but seeing them work together must mean at least a little bit of their problems had been resolved in his absence. 

John even made the middle brother laugh when he was retelling the crazy story of when he accidentally caught his tail on fire on his first night on the Neverglade Trail. 

Overall, things were... calm—not one hundred percent alright, but tolerable. It was awkward when the conversation died out, but Branch would rather have that than yelling. 

After the meal concluded and the dishes were washed and put away, the five brothers clambered onto the lift of his hand-made elevator and made their way to the surface. 

The forest was alive with tweeting flocks of birds, the sound of wind rustling the canopy high above them, and the subtle smell of summer on its way in the sweet gale. The sun was already streaming through the trees, beams of happy, warm rays beginning to ebb the coolness of night away and awakening the forest of day-dwelling creatures to come out. 

The nocturnal predators would already be long gone, but he knew better than to not be cautious when so far away from civilization. He'd been ambushed one too many times in the early dawn, and he had instinctive awareness to always double-check that nothing was lingering nearby before stepping off the platform. 

His ears twisted, not hearing any bay of a Cuddlepup or the shriek of a Whiskerpaw as far as he could tell. He even listened for the quiet chittering of a Moderation Mole, just in case one had decided to hide away from the sun nearby. 

Thankfully, the coast was clear. Aside from a few Bunnyfeet scurrying off into the brush nearby, there were no other critters. 

"Alright, let's get a move on!" John Dory clapped Bruce and Branch on the backs, pushing them off the platform onto the path leading toward the village. "The girls won't wait on us all day!" 

"Like Poppy would leave without saying goodbye to Branch." Floyd teased from behind them, much to the youngest's chagrin. 

"Or Viva to her ' co-owner .'" Bruce heavily emphasized, Clay sputtering at the callout he wasn't expecting. 

The green-haired brother paused in his tracks, eyes darting between his siblings smugly returning his stare. Surprise and embarrassment blossomed on his face, his cheeks turning the faintest shade darker blue. "W-what? Dude, come on, we're really just co-owners." 

It was futile to deny the obvious, but Clay was deep in the denial stage. The four brothers exchanged glances, grinning. 

"Sure, and Brandy and I are just roommates." Bruce chuckled, flashing the ring on his finger that his lovely wife back home had an identical, much larger version of on her own hand. 

"There's no shame in being in love, bro. How hard can it be to ask her out?" John shrugged with mischief in his eyes. He seemed a little more comfortable making jabs at Clay after this morning. Things must be alright between them now. 

The green-haired troll made a face. "Like you would understand, John. The only woman in your life is Rhonda."

The olive-haired brother laughed, pushing the ski goggles on his head further into his graying hairline. "And she's the only girl I need. She's more work than she looks." He looked around, his confident smile slipping a little. "Wonder where she got off to. She's usually waiting on us." 

As soon as he said that, a familiar trill bellowed out from somewhere in the trees, followed by the pittering of several footsteps and the rumbling earth beneath their paws. A flash of white and red armor scurried through the thick foliage of green, Rhonda's round, excited face coming into view as she darted toward the small group.

Branch blinked, and suddenly he was on his back, two large feet slamming down on either side of his body before a coarse, glittery tongue swiped up his entire front half. 

He put his arms up instinctively to shield his face. "Ugh, Rhonda!" But his scolding was in vain because her relentless attack didn't cease. 

For some reason, she took a liking to him. She also seemed to favor Poppy, as she had similarly greeted the queen when they first encountered the Armadillo Bus, and obviously, she adored John Dory since he'd been with her for so many years. Branch couldn't fathom what Rhonda could possibly like about him enough to tackle him whenever he was near. 

He could tell his brothers were enjoying the show if their cackles had anything to say about it. If he wasn't pinned down by Rhonda's relentless greeting, he would have given them a piece of his mind. 

"John Dory!" He shrieked over the boisterous laughter, begging his brother to get her off him. 

Though amused by the sight, John Dory decided to have mercy on Branch. He whistled sharply to recall his companion. "C'mere, girl!" He motioned with his paws to wave her over, stifling chuckles despite having been the loudest one just a moment ago. 

Rhonda perked up, abandoning Branch like she hadn't just bowled him over, and happily trotted to the olive-haired troll's side. She pushed her face into JD's awaiting paws, cooing elatedly at her owner's attention. 

The youngest troll sat up, annoyed, and covered in a thick coat of glitter. Branch was so thankful Rhonda's tongue was like dry sandpaper and that she didn't naturally create saliva, or else he would be soaked. He could deal with the glitter, but he'd have to take a shower if she'd slobbered all over him. 

"Can't you train her not to do that?" He flung some clumps of dirt and sparkles out of his grayish-blue fur, grumpily trying to dust himself off. 

"Sorry, little brother. Rhonda may be tame, but not  that  tame." John chuckled, patting his pet's cheek as she tried to shove herself further into his arms. "You might as well get used to it. You're one of her favorites." 

Clay and Bruce helped Branch to his his paws, smirking at his askew hair and garnished body. "I don't see why." The youngest grumbled, shaking off what he could, though his fur was still thickly painted with the ghastly glitter. 

John nonchalantly shrugged, leaving Rhonda's side, though she loyally followed after him as he came to stand with his brothers. "Must be because you help with her maintenance. Don't fight it, bro. She's got a fierce streak of doing what she wants."

Branch laid an unamused glower at his oldest brother, but it wasn't as intimidating as he wanted it to be when he looked like the aftermath of one of Poppy's crazy scrapbooking sleepovers.

Floyd ruffled Branch's already messy hair, causing it to rain sparkles. "We should get a move on." He reminded them they were on a time crunch, but the shimmer in his eyes revealed he was happy for the funny distraction. 

Aside from a few more jokes jibbed at his expense, the five plus Rhonda eventually continued toward Pop Village. 

Despite the deep, lush forest surrounding them on all sides, the village itself was nestled carefully in a hidden opening. Green, hilly tufts of grass layered the woodland's floor, surrounded by majestic trees that tower high above, their leafy canopies sheltering them from the aerial view of predators as well as the heat of the sun. Since it was early morning, however, the source of light in the village was different at this time. 

Fairy lights were strung between the limbs of the trees and the multicolored pod homes of all the trolls that lived there, casting a soft and magical glow over the tiny society. They dazzled softly, illuminating the village with a warm ambiance that seemed incredibly charming and familiar. 

Aside from a few scorched branches scheduled for felling, things were starting to come together.

After the Great Bergen Attack Part Two and the Rockapocalypse, this place had looked awful. One tragedy after another, but the Pop Trolls were still doing their best to make the village look its best despite the risk of all their hard work being destroyed once again. Even if they may not seem like it, the Pop Trolls had incredible tenacity; the years of farming at the hands of the Bergens and the loss of all music hadn't been enough to break them, something Branch had extreme pride in as a part of the kingdom. 

He waved at a few trolls he'd come to know as friends as they entered the village, ignoring their giggles at his appearance. He didn't pay any mind to Guy Diamond, either. Not even when the Glitter Troll applauded his sparkling attire or when Tiny Diamond began laughing himself to tears as the brothers passed by the father-son combination. 

When they finally reached the meeting spot Poppy asked them to meet at, Branch was dark blue from embarrassment, rushing to scrape himself presentable before his girlfriend would see him like that. 

Unfortunately for his pride, the sisters were already waiting for them as they approached, turning in unison with twin smiles. Poppy began hopping up and down and waving her arm as if she could be missed, Viva joining not a second later with Clay's name on her lips. 

Bruce jabbed Clay's ribs with a playful elbow, the middle brother glaring at the purple-haired troll to shut him up. 

A flash of pink brought his attention back, zooming up to him at lightning speed. 

"Wait, Popp-!" Branch barely had time to open his arms wide enough to catch her before his girlfriend threw herself at him with a squeal of glee. He tripped over his own tail, trying to stabilize Poppy's weight barreling into him like that, and they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs. 

The air whooshed out of his chest as he had been unprepared for the collision, but he had no time to catch his breath before Poppy crushed him in a fierce hug. Of course, he returned the embrace, but not as tight as his enthusiastic partner. 

She pulled back, still nestled on his chest, as she came nose to nose with him and smiled. Her pink eyes dazzled in delight, her body jittering in uncontained joviality. "You," Her finger poked the center of his forehead, "are late, Branchifer." She dusted some remaining glitter from his hair.

"And  you ," he replied with a pained smile, "are crushing me, Poppifer."

"Oops, sorry! I got too excited." Her chest bobbed with laughter, finally sitting back to give him enough space to shuffle off the ground. She hurriedly got to her feet and yanked him to his before he had time to do it himself. 

Branch shook his head to get his bearings back, Viva already chattering a mile a minute with the other four brothers about how 'nervouscited' she was and some other crazy combination of words that he couldn't quite understand. 

The blue-haired troll brushed off his vest, fondly smiling at his partner, who hadn't let go of his paw even after helping him to his feet. "You ready?" He asked softly, squeezing her fingers in his gently. 

Poppy nodded fast enough to give herself whiplash. "Uh, yeah! We spent all night planning which path we were gonna take. I could hardly sleep; it's just so exciting!" She sighed wistfully. "Can you believe it, Branch? My whole life, I've dreamed of doing something like this. And now, I actually get to spend time with my real-life sister! Not that life-changing adventures with you weren't fun enough, but it's so fatastamazing that I get to do it with Viva too! We're gonna tell stories and jokes and laugh, and at the same time, we're going to bring the Putt-Putt Trolls so much closer to being back here with the rest of us! Just think, in a few more weeks, we'll have the perfect route, and they'll finally be a part of the kingdom just like before!" 

If he hadn't known her for as long as he did, Branch might not have been able to understand her quick-paced rambling. Thankfully, he drank in everything she said like it would be the last he ever heard from her and memorized every word that came out of her mouth. 

"It'll be good to have them all here." He smiled, which she reciprocated ten-fold. "I'll help however I can when you get back." 

"It's good that you say that because I will definitely be abusing that offer. We've got to start stringing up some new pods, but it can wait until Viva and I finish scouting out the routes. I'm appointing you Chief of Safety!" She saluted him with a dopey grin on her face. 

Branch chuckled at Poppy's playful antics. "You can count on me, Chief Safety Officer, reporting for duty," he replied with a mimicked mock salute. 

He grew more serious after that, reaching out to grab her other paw and holding both of them gently in his larger ones. She faltered, a rare blush painting her cheeks a hotter pink than before, as he sincerely stared into her eyes. "Just... promise me you'll be careful out there. I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

Her expression softened, touched he was so worried about her and Viva's journey. She knew if he could, he wouldn't hesitate to come along. It would be her first cross-country adventure without him; she'd be worried if the roles were swapped and she stayed behind instead of him. Her chest fluttered at his unabashed concern, but she composed herself to be strong for him. 

"I promise, Branch. We'll be back before you know it." She glanced off to the side, stifling a giggle as Viva managed to wrangle all four of the other Brozone brothers into a tight-knit hug. "What about you? Did you ask them about the camping trip?" 

Branch deflated a little at the reminder, shaking his head as he turned to watch his brothers interact with her sister. "I chickened out. But I plan to ask them sometime today. There's this forest I read about in one of Queen Essence's books, not too far from here. Shouldn't take long to get there and back. I think we're all too sensitive for a week-long adventure right now, but I figured a few days wouldn't hurt." 

Poppy beamed at him, squeezing his paws tightly in hers and dragging his gaze back to her. "That's perfect, Branch. Which forest was it?" 

"Melodtree Grove. I've never heard of it before, but it's close to Pop Village." He sighed. "I just don't know if they'll say yes." 

The Pop Queen nudged him as she retracted her arms away. "I think we both know they will. They've been dying to hang out with you, but you always manage to blow them off. It'll be good for all of you, so don't chicken out on me this time." She wagged a finger at him for good measure. 

Branch relaxed a little at her reassurance, thankful she was always there for him when he needed reasoning. "I won't." He promised her with a solid nod. 

A little chime went off on both of their wrists, little twinkles signaling hug-time was finally there. The couple smiled, embracing each other much more sincerely than before. 

He held her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder, ridding any remaining space between their bodies as he breathed in her subtle but familiar perfume. Poppy snuggled into his chest, fists clenching his vest fervently to relish one final hug-time with her boyfriend before her departure.

A resounding "Group hug!" was their only warning before a whirl of pink and yellow crashed their touching moment, Viva wrapping her longer arms around both of them to squeeze with all her might. Poppy and Branch laughed, the former louder than the latter, somehow squished impossibly closer thanks to the older sister. 

She let them go, Branch inhaling the air lost from the collision. He glanced to the side, snorting at the colorful braids and intertwined strands of hair all his brothers now sported. He was sure he also had some of his own, but he overlooked that when Viva faced him. 

The yellow-crazy-haired troll smiled at him, dancing on the balls of her paws as she rocked back and forth in excitement. "So, Branch! I hope you don't mind my stealing Poppy for a few days. You won't need to worry about a single hair on her head, though! I'll make sure we get there right as rain!" She locked her elbow with Poppy's, her chest puffing out confidently. 

Branch knew he could rely on Viva to keep his partner safe. He knew she wouldn't let anything happen to Poppy with her around, but he felt a little better hearing the pink troll admit as much. She was brave and selfless, maybe a little too eccentric sometimes, but that's why he liked her so much; she was just like her sister in all the right ways. 

He nodded at Viva, a small smile gracing his features. "I know. I trust you. Just don't get yourself hurt in the process, too. Clay needs you back in one piece." 

Strangely enough, Viva's grin grew wider at Branch's faith in her. He didn't trust just anyone, so having the younger troll's complete confidence in her was an ego booster. "Don't worry about me! I can handle myself! But just so you know, I also trust  you  to keep my co-owner out of trouble on your trip, too." She leveled him with a decerning gaze, seemingly unaware that she'd just outed his plans before he'd had the chance to mention them to his brothers. 

He ignored the four inquisitive stares aimed at him, opting for a nervous laugh instead of addressing her blunder. "Right. I'll make sure he doesn't get distracted by his safety violations, as long as you make sure Poppy doesn't sing her way into the open mouth of a predator." 

Poppy froze, her cheeks flushing bright pink at the embarrassing memory. "Low-blow, Branchifer." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Real low." 

Branch held his paws up in surrender, knowing that if he went any further, she would retaliate with embarrassing stories about him. With four brothers, something like that was too close to a death sentence.

Thankfully, she moved on pretty quickly, shuffling away from Viva's side to give his brothers a big hug of her own. They reciprocated as best they could, with her trapping their arms by their sides, but it was still nice that she was giving them a farewell of her own. She'd grown quite fond of his siblings, so it would have been weirder had she not done so. 

The queen stepped away just in time as Viva threw herself back at Clay for one final embrace. It was quick but meaningful, the two of them having gone through a lot together; Branch was sure the separation would be difficult after being glued at the hip for almost two decades at the Putt-Putt course. 

Though Clay wasn't blatant about it, he would obviously miss and worry about his co-owner during her absence, and how he held her back in their hug just proved it. 

Poppy returned to Branch's side for one final, parting embrace, not as long as their earlier hug-time, but still warm and fuzzy. "We should get a move on." She said it to all of them, yet she looked at Branch as she did. 

"Right." Viva agreed, her voice suspiciously wet, though there was a lack of tears as she put on a brave face. "Can't get cold feet now!" 

"Wait, we almost forgot!" Poppy shouted, darting off to the side where Rhonda had been patiently waiting. Viva didn't hesitate to join her sister as the two spoiled the excited Armadillo Bus with hugs and kisses, getting covered in glitter as their affection was readily reciprocated. Branch was sure that if Rhonda had hair, it would be braided and threaded, watching with a fond smile as they pampered the critter with as much attention as they could on their time crunch.

Rhonda cooed and thrived under their undivided adoration, wiggling her entire body in excitement. 

Eventually, the two sisters knew they were out of moments to spare and regrettably gave Rhonda one last farewell. They retrieved their bags from the ground where they had been waiting when the brothers arrived, strapping them on as their earlier, excited jittering returned full force. They began walking in their determined direction, an odd emptiness settling over the brothers as they watched them go. 

"Be careful out there." Floyd warmly waved at them, appearing worried yet supportive at the same time. 

"We'll be waiting when you guys get back," Bruce promised heartfully.

Clay rubbed his sweaty palms on his legs, his tail twitching nervously behind him. "Make sure to scrapbook everything." He didn't have to remind them to do that; they would definitely spend most of the trip doing that, knowing those two. Still, it made the girls' faces brighten a little bit more. 

John Dory stepped forward, a smile playing at the corners of his lips despite the tender moment. "You better bring back some good stories to tell us," he said with a wink, trying to lighten the mood. Surprisingly, it worked, and they all stood a little straighter as they finalized the send-off. 

"See you later." Branch waved, his heart soaring as Poppy blew a kiss his way. The sisters energetically waved over their shoulders before their jubilant voices and boisterous cheers began to taper off the farther along they went into the forest. 

The beginning of a loud pop song followed after their disappearing silhouettes, the sisters' voices carrying out even when they were no longer visible. 

Branch's arm dropped, feeling suddenly lonely now that they were gone. He hoped their journey went well; he couldn't help but worry about what would happen to them out there in the big world. But they were doing this for the colony—to bring the separated trolls back to the kingdom, where they could finally live without fear. This was important for the two leaders, and he would respect that. That didn't mean he wouldn't agonize about it, though. 

He didn't move for the longest time, just staring at the spot where he'd last seen the pink fuzz of his girlfriend disappear. The song they were singing faded, and the only sound bothering him now was that of the village behind him and the chirping birds living in the treetops. 

He turned away finally, faced with his brothers patiently waiting for him to gather himself enough. They all smiled, different levels of empathy shimmering back at him. For the first time in a long, long while, he was glad they were there. 

Rhonda even softly pushed her face into him, sensing his distress and attempting to cheer him up in her own way. He rubbed her cheek in gratitude, happy she wasn't covering him in glitter this time. 

Floyd sympathetically laid a paw on the youngest's shoulder. "They'll be back." He reassured, his pink eyes searching Branch's blue ones. 

Branch nodded, casting one final glance over his shoulder before deciding they'd hung around for long enough. He nodded to agree with Floyd, trying to appear as confident as he could despite the anxieties swirling in his mind. 

As they made their way back to the bunker, the mood among the brothers was a little damp with their own personal thoughts about the girls' leaving. Branch led the way, his mind still lingering on Poppy and Viva's departure. 

"Hey, Branch?" 

His ear perked up, turning partially to see Clay catching up to match his pace on the left of him. Branch tilted his head quizzically, waiting for his brother to say what was on his mind. 

Clay's electric yellow eyes darted all over the shorter troll's face, his lips drawn in a tight line. "What was Viva talking about? She said something about you going on a trip." 

Oh, fudge bars. 

Branch was sure his face went from stoic to confused to horrified in a single second as he realized Clay had managed to remember Viva's little slip-up from earlier. He'd forgotten the yellow-haired troll had outed him before, but now, any hope they would overlook it slipped out of his fingers like water. 

The middle brother blinked in surprise at Branch's sudden change in mood, obviously not expecting such a visceral reaction to what he thought was a valid query. 

"Oh yeah," John Dory piped up from behind him, unaware of how loaded Clay's question had actually been. "You plan on going somewhere, bro?" 

"Now that you mention it, Poppy did say you made some friends from different genres," Bruce added thoughtfully. "Something called Raegatton? K-Pop? I never heard of either of those before. You going to visit them?" 

Branch's heart was going a mile a minute. This wasn't how he wanted to bring it up to them. He wasn't fully prepared, mentally or emotionally, for that yet. He'd planned to do more research on the grove before asking them. What was he supposed to say? Should he laugh it off and wait until later, like he'd planned? 

Branch's mind raced as he struggled to find the right words. He wasn't ready to have this conversation, not yet. But he couldn't ignore Clay's question and keep his plans a secret from his brothers forever. Still, he didn't know how to approach this, at least not without practicing what he wanted to say. 

"Dude, Branch, are you okay?" 

Clay's concerned voice snapped him out of his mental reverie. 

Branch blinked and realized he'd literally frozen on the spot, and the march home had come to a complete halt. His paws were sweaty, his tail swishing anxiously behind him, but he realized that when he'd stopped, so had his brothers. 

"Branch?" Floyd urged, coming up to his right with worry shimmering in his eyes. Clearly, something was wrong, and they'd upset the youngest somehow. The pink-haired brother looked at Clay, but all he got in response was a shrug since the middle sibling was just as clueless as the rest.

Branch took a steady breath, fists clenched at his sides to stop them from shaking. ' I got this ,' he told himself, another, separate voice that sounded just like Poppy cheering him on in the back of his mind. 

Just talk. 

"I guess since Viva mentioned it, I have no choice. I've... been meaning to ask you guys something." He started off slowly, turning to face them all despite the frog in his throat and the weird nausea he felt at finally confronting his most recent fear. He swallowed, spit stinging his dry throat. He braved his stifling indecisiveness, knowing he had no choice but to explain. 

They stared back at him, curiosity and wariness infecting the soured air around them. 

' I got this .'

"I had a talk with Poppy the other day. About you guys. And about our... issues." He watched as they collectively winced, suddenly apprehensive about where this was going. Branch steeled himself after their less-than-encouraging reactions. "She thought it would be a good idea to do our own 'bonding' trip." 

Whatever they were expecting hadn't been that. Their bewilderment was almost laughable as wide-eyed gapes were the only responses they could give. 

Branch remembered feeling the exact same way when Poppy first suggested it.

"I thought it was stupid at first. But maybe... it wouldn't be so bad?" He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but that's how it came out anyway. "I did some research, I guess, and I found someplace nearby that might be nice to check out. I kinda put it off because I knew that none of us are exactly crazy about spending time with each other."

He took a deep breath, fists banging on either side of his thighs as he tried to find the right words to say. Was this going well? He wasn't sure since he couldn't bring himself to look at them anymore and focused instead on the dirt beneath his paws. 

"She told me that both sides have to make an effort, and I know I haven't exactly been the most open to you guys about what happened after you left. Why I am the way that I am now." Branch shook his head. "Maybe it was a stupid idea, and maybe I'm even more so for considering it, but I guess I wouldn't mind it if you guys came with me." 

Branch's voice faltered as he finished speaking, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't meet his brothers' eyes, afraid of their reactions to his hesitant proposal.

For a moment, there was silence as his words hung in the air, heavy with tension and uncertainty. 

The four remaining brothers turned to each other in quiet amazement, definitely caught off guard by their youngest sibling's out-of-character invitation. Of all the things in the world, this was not how they expected the conversation to go.

Rhonda, blissfully unable to understand their words, trotted off to the side, chasing a butterfly into the brush and leaving them to their awkward silence. 

Floyd motioned toward Branch, silently asking what the others thought.

Oddly enough, a consensus had already been made, determined glances being exchanged, and a single, solid nod from all four of them. 

"Where are we headed?" John finally responded, a tight but fond smile on his face after Branch initiated a way for them to break through his thick armor. 

Surprised, Branch finally looked back up, a peculiar frown on his face. "What?"

"Well, you said you already found someplace, right?" JD shrugged, pushing the brim of his goggles to rest on his crown more securely. He grinned, confident and zealous. "I'm down for a vacation. So where are we going?" 

"Sounds like fun." Bruce agreed, jumping on the bandwagon before Branch had time to process it. "Pop Village is fun and loud, but when you live with thirteen kids, sometimes you just want to relax. Honestly, a trip away to decompress would be a dream."

Clay threw a lax arm over Branch's shoulder, shaking him out of his astonished stupor. "Yeah, man. I mean, the safety violations seemed right up my alley, but I'd rather go with you if you're asking. It could be a practical learning experience about other parts of the Pop Kingdom we don't know about." 

"There's no need to be nervous, Branch." Floyd reassured, elated his little brother was ultimately bridging the gap he'd put between them. He made a mental note to thank Poppy personally for giving Branch the idea to invite them. "We'd love to come with you. It sounds like fun. It's been ages since we all five did something together." 

Aside from the few nights they had together after Mount Rageous, they'd split up to just Branch, John Dory, and Floyd most of the time, with Clay and Bruce visiting at different times throughout the month. Though the lingering questions of ' Would this end well ' and ' Can we handle being around each other for that long'  quietly passed through the brothers, they were more than willing to risk it if it was for Branch. 

Branch almost couldn't believe his ears. Did they say yes? Just like that? After all the stretched, timeless hours spent worrying himself ulcers over their responses, and they'd immediately agreed? 

He felt even dumber than before, mentally face-palming that it had been that easy. He was sure he looked shocked, unable to truly process the results. 

"You really want to do it?" He asked finally, and his brow furrowed in disbelief. 

The brothers exchanged glances, with amusement and affection evident in their eyes as they regarded Branch's disbelief. It was clear that they were all in agreement. 

John Dory flashed a reassuring grin. "Yeah, bro," he said, clapping a hand on Branch's back. "It'll be good for us to spend some quality time together. Plus, who wouldn't want to explore somewhere new?"

Floyd, Clay, and Bruce nodded in agreement, excited to finally have a chance to make up for things and get everything off their chests.

Branch, as shell-shocked as he was, nodded numbly. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. I-uh, didn't flesh out the whole thing just yet, but I do have an idea of where to go if you guys are up for it. If Rhonda gives us a ride, it'll only take a few hours to get there."

"Sounds like a plan." Bruce beamed, brushing a paw over his styled hair with a jolly laugh. "Why don't we make a week out of it while Poppy and Viva are gone? Really get out there and rough it like real trolls." 

Floyd chuckled. "You don't strike me as the 'roughing it' kind of troll, Bruce." 

The second eldest turned his nose upward, puffing his chest out pridefully. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Floyd. You'd be surprised by my survivalist skills." 

"Not sure if we should be worried about that," Clay muttered just low enough for Branch to hear, finally pulling a smile out of the youngest. 

"We can leave tomorrow. I'll have to get Rhonda ready for the trip, so she'll need to rest for today so she'll be full of pep in the morning. Whadya say, Branch? Sound good?" John offered with his paws on his hips. 

As soon as her name was said, the Armadillo Bus came frolicking out of the bushes, the butterfly's wing from earlier hanging out of her mouth as her latest prey. She dashed right up to John Dory, trilling excitedly like she knew something was going on. 

"Yeah, that sounds good. I can work on finding a good path there." Branch felt like a huge weight had just lifted off his chest, deflating in relief that it was finally over. He didn't have to worry about asking them anymore; he'd managed to actually do it. 

"Looks like we have some packing to do." Floyd laughed, ruffling Branch's hair as he took the first steps back to the bunker. 

The youngest brother, with Clay's arm still attached to him, followed after, feeling less sick and more hopeful than he ever had before. 

With Rhonda eagerly joining the group, the brothers journeyed back to the bunker, strangely enthusiastic about their upcoming journey. If they were leaving tomorrow, there would be a lot to prepare for. 

Branch smiled when John Dory and Bruce began bickering over who could make the best campfire meal, a sense of comfort overcoming him. Despite his initial hesitations, he was starting to genuinely look forward to their adventure to the Melodtree Grove. 

He could almost imagine the ' I told you so ' look on Poppy's face when he told her. 

He stood a little taller, listening to his brothers laugh and joke freely and peacefully. They were really doing this. Branch couldn't help but feel a surge of rare optimism wash over him.

Branch tilted his head up, looking up toward the protective canopy of his home forest, and smiled.

Chapter Text

"Are you sure you need all that?"

Clay had to force himself not to roll his eyes at John Dory's question, opting instead to fasten the drawstrings of his bag tightly in finality.

To say he was dreading this would be an understatement.

He couldn't believe he'd agreed; it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. He'd been so caught off guard by Branch's invitation that he'd blindly said yes. But after spending the last twenty minutes dealing with John Dory's incessant queries, he was close to regretting it.

Still, he couldn't back out now. This was a perfect opportunity to get back on Branch's good side, who'd been cold and distant since returning to Pop Village.

The youngest wasn't entirely keen on being around them, not after spending the last two decades alone. For lack of better words, Branch was mad at them. Really mad. He never said it out loud, but the anger was there.

That wasn't to say that his avoiding them wasn't deserved. Clay would be more surprised if Branch had immediately warmed up to them after so long apart. Thankfully, he was opening up. Or at least spending time with them.

In the last few days since Bruce and Clay arrived, and it was finally the five of them again, Branch had been engaging in conversations more, smiling more, and not always hiding away when they were nearby. It was an unexpected development, but not at all unwelcome.

And then he asked them, of all trolls, to come with him on an exploratory scout of Pop Troll territory. It was what they were waiting for—a chance to make things up to him and clear the air.

The four older brothers were relieved that Branch was finally coming around. It had taken the past month plus some to get this opportunity, and they weren't about to take it for granted. Their patience was finally paying off.

They'd enthusiastically agreed to join him, including one insufferable, antsy John Dory, whose questions Clay was fighting off with a stick.

"For the thousandth time, yes ," Clay snapped with a twitching tail. Why was he the only one stuck up here with John? Why were the others taking so long? "Some of us like being prepared. It wouldn't kill you not to judge everything I do."

John held his paws up in mock defense, eyes wide at the cutting tone he was addressed with. "Alright, alright! Don't bite my head off. I'm not judging; I'm just saying there is such a thing as overpacking." He crossed his arms over his chest with a frown, which was quite an odd face for someone like him. "I already told you Rhonda has everything we need. We're only going for a few days."

This time, Clay did roll his eyes, shaking his head. "It's to somewhere new , John. Not even you can predict what will happen out there, no matter how many years you've been in the wild."

"It's Pop territory." An aloof shrug jerked the eldest's shoulders up and down. "How dangerous can it really be? Besides, Branch said the whole point of this trip was because the author of that book he's been reading said it was safe and he wanted to check it out."

"No, he said the author wrote that it was beautiful. It said nothing about it being safe."

"What's the difference? I think you're just paranoid. I saw how all those Putt-Putt Trolls acted before; you guys need to get out more."

Clay tilted his head back toward the sky, praying above for patience. "We didn't leave Hole 'N Fun for security purposes." He knew there was no point in arguing with John when he thought he was right. Still, someone had to try getting it through the survivalist's thick head one way or another. "We couldn't let the Bergens know where we were."

"The golf course is hours away from Bergen Town, days if you go on foot. You guys really thought they would go all the way out there looking for you?"

"It was a Bergen golf course! It was the only place we found after days of running, and we didn't know if they would come back and—y'know what? I don't have to explain this to you. It doesn't matter." He pinched the bridge of his nose as a tiresome headache began to pulse behind his eyes. John would never understand the fear and paranoia they went through at the golf course anyway. "It's not all roses and rainbows out there. You do remember Mount Rageous, don't you? I'm sure Floyd didn't go there expecting to get troll-napped in a city as shiny as that."

John went silent at Clay's reminder, but not that he needed one. It had only happened a month ago, and Floyd was still in deep recovery despite how far he'd come.

There were just some things they didn't bring up, Floyd's imprisonment being one of them. It was brutally taxing on him physically and mentally; any mention of the star-crazed city never failed to upset the pink-haired brother, so they all refrained from speaking about it when he was around.

Admittedly, it was underhanded to bring it up since it had been pretty traumatic for their little brother. He shouldn't be using Floyd's horrible experience as an example.

Clay sighed, his paw dropping. He looked away from his bag, finding John unable to form words for a rebuttal. The eldest stood there with a pale frown, fists clenched at his sides, and a faraway look in his eyes. Something uncomfortable settled on Clay's conscience for causing his brother's grim expression.

The green-haired troll shook his head, pulling a pen and clipboard out of his frizzy locks to go over one last time. "Look, all I'm saying is that there's all kinds of hidden dangers in innocent places."

"What, like I wouldn't know that?" John huffed, clearly agitated. "I've seen more than you think. The Neverglade Trail isn't as fun as I make it sound. And I was there for Floyd too; you don't have to bring it up."

"I know! " Clay retorted, his temper getting the better of him. Having John Dory, of all trolls, scold him for being insensitive was nothing less than a slap to his pride.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before their conversation escalated. "I know, alright? I shouldn't have said that. But my point still stands. I don't want something like that to happen to any of my brothers again. Being prepared for this stuff is important to me, so lay off."

"I didn't say you shouldn't be prepared; I said you're overpacking. There's a difference."

Clay groaned, rubbing his paw across his face in frustration. This conversation was getting them on the verge of an actual fight. He was beginning to lose the little patience he had left, if he had any.

It wasn't like he was packing anything unnecessary. There was extra water, bars made out of protein-rich fruits for energy, medical supplies, a knife, some rope, a stone and flint as a fire starter, and when Branch finally came out of the bunker, he'd be asking for a copy of the map to see where they were going. It wasn't like his bag space was maxed out just for the hell of it; these were all essentials for going out into the wilderness. There was nothing wrong with being cautious, so why was John so adamant about this?

"Well, I don't see it like that. It's not too heavy to carry, and any of this stuff could be lifesaving if things go wrong." Clay reaffirmed, feeling like he was talking to a brick wall, but conversations with his oldest brother often felt like that.

John hummed, staring strangely at Clay's backpack for another moment with some unfamiliar expression as opposed to his usual striking confidence. He looked like he still had something else to say but only opened his mouth with no words to follow. He was hesitating, something that John never did.

Maybe he realized Clay was losing his patience, but that was probably a high expectation for someone like him. Whatever the reason was, the older troll gave up the fight with a resigned, "If you say so, bro."

That's strange. JD was never one to leave something alone if he thought he was right. The eldest obviously didn't like something about Clay's full bag, so it was out of character for him to drop it like that.

The green-haired troll couldn't stop himself from raising a single eyebrow at the strange behavior. Not that Clay would question it because then John might start up again, but it was odd enough to notice.

Clay felt like he never really understood his brother. There was always something weird about him. He was arrogant, meddling, and so unbelievably frustrating. He was a stubborn blockhead who always thought his opinion was the only right one. He judged everything they did, putting input into situations he should just keep his nose clean from. Those were aspects that never changed.

But sometimes, John would do things he probably believed no one noticed that made him seem like a completely different troll.

The way he tugged on his leather glove with a strained smile, when he would look over his shoulder during conversations, the random counting down from 100 under his breath, and just now, stopping himself before he spoke his mind. None of those were things Clay recognized in the John Dory he grew up with.

Why did his brother change so much, yet not at all? What were these nervous ticks that came and went without warning?

Trying to understand someone he hadn't seen in twenty years was frustrating. It was even more difficult because of who that someone was. Clay and John never had the best relationship. They'd always been at each other's throats for as long as he could remember. Even as kids and teenagers, they had a weird rivalry that only worsened as time and anger stacked against them.

There were so many unresolved feelings and thoughts from the Brozone days that Clay couldn't get past. He wanted to know John and perceive him differently from their childhood, but he couldn't. Because, despite all the time that had passed, John was still as insufferable as ever. Maybe there were things about him that had changed, but it was his most annoying qualities that were still so persistent.

Clay had low expectations that John would get any more tolerable during this trip. He wondered if he could survive a four-day getaway with his most annoying sibling, who dissected everything he did like it was a religion. His patience was already pathetically siphoned to near inexistence.

He sighed for what felt like the millionth time already, shaking his head as he dreaded the next few days. This was going to be a long week.

"That better not be another argument I'm hearing."

With a startled jump, Clay jerked his head to the side to see purple hair and blue fur strolling away from the bunker platform. The middle brother deflated in relief that their other siblings were finally joining them on the surface because it had gone awkwardly quiet after John's surrender.

Bruce put his paws on his hips as he halted before the two feuding brothers, his half-lidded eyes judging them silently.

Clad in his iconic black and white flowered vest and the large, swooping violet hair behind him, he passed a glance between Clay and John like a scolding parent would. "We haven't even left yet. Are you guys seriously going to do this today?"

He sounded disappointed, which meant he probably caught the last bit of their almost heated conversation. Not that Bruce could be blamed for immediately scolding them. Clay'd only arrived three days ago, and each day afterward, there'd been an altercation between him and John. Well, the second day had just been Clay ignoring him, but they'd settled that in the kitchen the previous morning.

Settled was a strong word for it. Ignoring the problem was more like it. Clay didn't talk about their fight, and John didn't either, but making breakfast together in silence had been enough to cool both their heads to be civil again. Until right now, that is.

Clay sighed, putting his clipboard and pen away. It was good Bruce showed up because he was on the precipice of exploding if he had to endure any more of John's relentless pestering. "No, just a small disagreement. We're good."

John didn't miss a beat, smiling like there wasn't a cloud in the sky. His apprehensive expression was gone, and he seemed no longer concerned about the contents of Clay's backpack. "You worry too much, Brucey! We can handle talking without fighting."

' Dude, I was three seconds away from biting your head off, ' Clay grumbled to himself. Leave it up to John to brush things off as usual.

"Well, let's keep it that way. I'd like to relax, and that's hard enough without breaking up your catfights." Bruce pointedly frowned at John, who held his paws up defensively.

"What? I didn't do anything! Why do you always assume it's me?"

"Because it's you, John." Bruce patted his older brother on the shoulder, implying that he should already know this.

The eldest scoffed in offense, crossing his arms over his chest. He clammed up after that, stewing in place with his tail lashing back and forth behind him.

Clay felt satisfied with his eldest brother's scolding, chaining himself back from smiling. Serves him right.

Bruce had a point, though. If they fought now, it would ruin the whole trip. He didn't want to sour their vacation before it even began; he silently promised to be on his most patient behavior for the sake of the rest of his brothers. Clay would begrudgingly put up with John as much as possible to keep the peace, no matter how aggravating and grating the oldest brother could be.

Going by how John had immediately resorted back to frowning at the lime-colored backpack, the green-haired brother just hoped he could keep that promise.

Chirring behind them, followed by breaking twigs and rustling leaves, alerted that a specific armadillo bus had returned from exploring the nearby forest.

The second-oldest brother whistled, adjusting the strap to his purple bag across his body as his eyes shifted just over Clay and John's shoulder to watch. "Hey, Rhonda looks good! I've never seen her so shiny."

They turned to watch the armadillo bus romp around in circles, chasing bugs and small critters with a gracefulness usually unseen in creatures her size. She looked happier than the sun after rain, skittering across the grass effortlessly.

She was usually covered in dirt or glitter, whichever she found and rolled around in first. Seeing her white, orange, and red armor so meticulously spotless with how she usually behaved was new.

Rhonda perked up at the mention of her name, her little tail wagging a mile a minute. She abandoned the flock of butterflies she'd been herding around to dart back to John's side, wiggling excitedly.

John patted her on the side of her carriage with a bright smile, his earlier sourness gone. "I worked on her all day, so she's oiled, fed, and ready to go! What took you guys so long?" He asked, looking up with one paw shielding a shadow over his eyes from the warm sun. "I thought we were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago."

Bruce became sullen, glancing over his shoulder with something akin to worry. Clay and John followed his gaze, finding their two youngest brothers still lingering by the bunker entrance.

Branch said something unintelligible to a tired-looking Floyd, whose sparkling, bedazzled cane indicated how the day was already going for the pink-haired brother. They seemed to be in some unhostile brotherly bickering, tossing phrases back and forth with Branch's worried frown against Floyd's easy-going smile.

The youngest tried supporting his brother off the platform but was waved away with, ' I can do it myself .'

Branch managed to wrangle Floyd's bag away from him at least, holding it so the pink-haired troll had better balance.

As they quarreled about Floyd's insistence that he didn't need help, the second oldest lowered his tone so John and Clay were the only ones listening, jerking his head towards the younger two.

"Floyd's a little slow today. Don't think he slept too well. Nightmares probably." Bruce frowned, worry lines peeking through. "He didn't look so hot earlier. It spooked us pretty bad so Branch wanted to call the whole thing off. Took Floyd a while to convince him not to."

Clay shared the concerned sentiment, glancing over as subtly as he could. His conscience spitefully reminded him of his careless Mount Rageous comment earlier, and somehow, the guilt grew exponentially. It was nothing to bring up half-heartedly, mentioning something that's caused his brother so much frustration and fear. 

He didn't like how unsteady Floyd appeared, with Clay's electric yellow eyes fixing on the decorated cane holding up the weak troll before turning back to Bruce. "We sure this is a good idea? Maybe we should wait until he's 100 percent again."

"I thought the same." The purple-haired brother sighed with a shake of his head. "But Floyd's as stubborn as they get. He says he's good as long as there's not too much hiking."

John reached over, patting Rhonda's shell with a sparkling grin. "There won't be any if we got this ole' girl! She'll get us to wherever we need to go to see this place with as little walking as possible." He glanced over at Branch and Floyd, his smile slipping just a fraction. Not even John Dory, the king of brushing things off, could ignore how sickly their second-youngest brother seemed.

The two youngest brothers hopped off the lift with only one stumble from the weaker. Branch shifted the welcome mat back over the opening, dusting off his paws with a sense of finality. He said something else as he slung both of their bags on his shoulder, getting an exasperated look from Floyd.

"I already told you, I'm fine." They caught the tail end of the pink-haired troll's reassurance as the two remaining brothers approached the group.

Branch didn't seem convinced, fiddling nervously with the straps of his backpack, his tail swishing across the ground behind him. "We don't have to go." The youngest looked Floyd up and down, his brow furrowed. "Seriously, Floyd. You look horrible."

It was a blunt assessment, but Branch wasn't wrong. The second-youngest brother looked exhausted, to put it nicely. There were dark rims around his eyes, indicating that he either did not get a wink of sleep or, if he did, it wasn't very peaceful. His blue fur seemed paler than usual, with a crystal white sheen to it, and his hair was less pink, like the shadow roots he'd received from his talent-sucking had grown longer overnight.

Floyd looked like hell frozen over. It was no wonder Bruce and Branch appeared so concerned.

"Gee, thanks." Floyd dryly replied, a rare flash of irritation zipping over the usually soft-hearted troll's expression.

That was a little shocking. Floyd was never short with them, especially not his only little brother. He must really be exhausted if his anger was getting the better of him. 

Clearly off-put by the sudden lash, Branch went stiff. He wasn't usually on the receiving end of any of their bad tempers, but he always seemed to panic when he was. It was almost like he didn't know what to do when their anger was directed at him.

The face Branch was making now was the same he'd made yesterday in the kitchen when Clay had been the one to snap at him.

Thankfully, the anger was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced with a wince as the weaker troll realized the youngest hadn't meant anything with his comment.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little cranky." Floyd rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, smiling to appease their worries. It didn't work, but it was a nice sentiment.

Branch cleared his throat nervously, nodding to accept the apology. "It's, uh, it's fine. I just meant that maybe we should do something else because you look  tired ." He emphasized to clarify that he wasn't trying to insult Floyd. He shrugged almost nonchalantly, though the turbulence was still evident in the way his tail flickered back and forth behind him. "I can always check the grove out on my own later. It's not like it's going anywhere."

"Now it just sounds like you don't want us to go." Bruce teased lightly, but it was tense, as if testing to see if that's what their brother really meant.

Branch froze for a moment, his eyes widening. He shook his head fervently. "Well, no, I just y'know." His paws clenched into fists, hitting the sides of his legs indecisively. "It's not like it's my first time doing something like this alone. Before I met Poppy, I did everything by myself, so it's nothing new."

Ouch.

Clay felt his stomach drop, caught completely off guard by the casual admission. 

He assumed Branch lived out here because he liked the quiet, but that didn't seem to be the case now. He had no idea his brother's isolation went so deep. Did he like being independent, or was it that he just had no one there for him? That question felt like hot coals in Clay's mind, searing him to think of his baby brother sequestered from the rest of the world.

How long was Branch alone before Poppy came into his life? Clay wasn't sure he would like the answer if he asked. 

When silence was met with his revelation, Branch seemed to catch on that he'd chosen the wrong thing to say. He glanced at each of their tight expressions, growing increasingly discontent. 

His eyes fell to the ground as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. That sounded less weird in my head."

There was nothing Branch should be apologizing for, but he must have taken their silence as judgment; it honestly hurt even more that he felt the need to be ashamed. With how little they knew about their young brother, this being one of the first things he revealed, accidental or not, was like a kick to the stomach.

Clay sent an alarmed peek at his other brothers, panicking. He had no idea what to say to something like that, and going by their stricken faces, neither did they. 

Bruce shrugged back at him before focusing on their little brother with an expression he rarely ever made. His usual calm demeanor faltered, his brow furrowing in concern. He was probably too shocked to come up with anything, which was understandable. Clay found himself at a loss for words, too.

Floyd didn't look much better, shaking his head in an ' I don't know what to say ,' moment after Clay glanced at him. Usually, he was the first to come up with reassurances, being the most empathetic out of all of them. It would seem Floyd was just as speechless by the heartbreaking revelation. He lifted his paw as if to comfort Branch, but stopped with a cringe, unsure if doing so would embarrass him even more.

Seeing that going with the number one troll for emotional cleanup was a bust, Clay finally looked to John Dory, not expecting much. JD wasn't the best in situations like these. As a matter of fact, he usually made them worse.

He was genuinely surprised to see the eldest smiling. Not his usual can-do grin, but something softer and more sincere. He looked... like he understood what Branch felt. It was a side of John that Clay had never seen before—this softer expression of alikeness.

He reached forward with his ungloved paw, ruffling Branch's grayish hair with a gentleness that seemed unbefitting of John's usual brashness. The youngest blinked, raising his head in surprise as the eldest retracted his paw.

"I get it, bro. You'd be surprised at how few trolls make it to the Neverglade. Until Rhonda showed up, I was on my own too." The olive-haired brother jerked a thumb at Bruce, his grin sharpening. "It teaches you a whole other set of life skills, something most trolls wouldn't understand. Just look at 'family man' over here. He wouldn't know lick about half the stuff you and I do, unless you count reproducing a survival tactic." 

"Oh, I know you've been just  dying  to say that." Bruce shoved John's paw out of his face, rolling his eyes in good nature. "Listen here Lone Wolf, raising a family is a lot more work than it looks. I'd love to see how you handle twenty-seven different cocktail orders and fourteen appetizers that need running while you have thirteen kids trying to get your attention while your wife is away on a month-long yoga retreat. You need more than survival skills to handle all of that, and I'd bet my restaurant you'd fold in two minutes." 

John Dory chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, talk to me when you know the difference between poison ivy and regular grass."

"It was one time!" 

" Ok , I think we get it," Floyd interjected, exasperated but humored nonetheless. He looked more relaxed, almost thankful that John had stepped in when they were all fumbling for a response.

John's little jib at Bruce seemed to do the trick, and Branch looked slightly more like himself instead of the nervous ball of anxiety he'd just been. The constipated frown on his face was gone, replaced by the tiniest smile. As bewildering as it was, the eldest brother was the one to save the day.

Clay breathed a silent sigh of relief, amazed that John had turned the conversation around like that. Compared to how theirs had gone just a few moments ago, it was a complete 180.

Still, he glanced back at Branch, thinking he should get more answers from his little brother about this. It wasn't just a slip of the tongue; Branch was used to others not being shocked when he brought it up. How he'd said it so casually was almost like everyone else but the other four brothers knew already.

He didn't like that. Did Branch really have no one else to rely on all this time? How long had he been alone since Grandma Rosiepuff died?

"Well," Bruce interrupted Clay's train of thought, the remnants of worry slipping off his older brother's face as the purple-haired troll smiled easily. "Shouldn't we get going? What's this place called again? Tree Grove?"

"Melodtree Grove. If we leave now, we should get there before dark." Branch corrected, shifting the weight of his and Floyd's bags a little as he glanced up at the sky.

John made a motion to the patiently waiting Rhonda, the critter bus opening the hatch of her carriage without him having to give the command. The folded stairs popped out, providing easy access inside. "Well, then let's move out! You'll have to give me that map you were talking about, Bitty B. Can't let Rhonda do all the driving, or we'll get lost before we make it halfway there."

The youngest made a sour face at the childish nickname but didn't comment. Clay inwardly rolled his eyes; they all knew how he felt about that moniker, yet John still used it daily to refer to Branch. He wished JD would learn from his mistakes, but that was a fool's dream. The guy did what he wanted; it was useless to argue with him.

Floyd shuffled forward, patting Branch on the shoulder to ease his discomfort before shoddily crutching his way up Rhonda's steps.

Unconsciously, they all prepared themselves to catch him if he fell, but thankfully, his grip on the railing and his blinged cane supported him enough that he didn't need any help.

All the brothers filed in after, John patting the side of his critter to alert her they were inside so she could close the hatch again.

It was always weird entering the armadillo bus's carriage. It was surprisingly spacious but colder than the outside world. Whether it was from the blasting AC or maybe she didn't produce as much heat as he once thought. Regardless, a trip in Rhonda was sure to be chilly and comfortable.

He spun the driver's seat around, plopping into it as Branch fished something out of his backpack. The youngest handed JD a sheet of paper after a moment of searching: a map.

Curious, Clay gathered around with Bruce and Floyd, breathing down Branch's back as John unfolded the paper to see a well-laid-out diagram of their world. Each territory was labeled Pop, Rock, Country, Funk, and Classical. It was shocking to see how large Pop's territory ranged, a smidgen larger than any other genre. And almost all of it was unexplored?

"It's as easy to read as I could make it." Branch pointed to the thick red line he'd drawn on the parchment that snaked through the illustrated landscapes. "If you follow this, we won't get lost. I circled some landmarks, too, just in case we get turned around." His finger moved to just below the section labeled for Classical, directing attention to a mountain range with a vast river cutting through it. "This is where the book said the grove was, so it's pretty far out there. Rhonda's fast, though, so it should only take a few hours."

"This is pretty good, Branch." Bruce glanced up in mild surprise. "You drew this?"

It was an impressive drawing of their world, with intricate details and shading, enough that it couldn't be considered just some shabby print-off. This was incredibly drawn and well-deserving of praise. 

Clay had no idea his brother was so talented at art like this.

"Yeah, I copied it from King Peppy's map, but Pop Trolls didn't do a lot of traveling so some of it was wrong. I fixed what I could with the help of my book. Wasn't that hard, just tracing." Their youngest brother modestly admitted.

"What's this book you keep talking about?" Clay couldn't help his curiosity. Branch had mentioned it a few times already, so he was intrigued about where his brother got all his information about this grove.

"Oh." Branch reached up, pulling a worn-out, green-leathered book out of his hair. Clay peeked over his little brother's shoulder, who held it up for them to see better. "I got this from Queen Essence after the whole Rockapocalypse thing. I got a little curious about the rest of the tribes, so I asked for some history books, and this was one that she gave me."

He offered it to Clay, who gratefully took ahold of it. Bruce and Floyd shifted on either side of him as he opened the cover and thumbed through some of the sections. Branch was right; this thing was crazy old. He felt that if he flipped the pages too fast, they'd disintegrate into dust.

There was a bookmarked section, one that Clay skipped several chapters to get to. It was that grove that his brother wanted to see so badly.

It was beautiful. The sketches probably couldn't hold a candle to the real thing, but the pictures alone felt otherworldly. The trees, the flowers, the mountains. All of it looked like a children's book fairytale.

"Wow." Bruce hummed, sounding thoroughly impressed. Clay could relate to that; it was almost enchanting. He wondered how much better it would look in person. "This place looks gorgeous. I can see why you've been wanting to check this place out, Branch."

"There's not much about it, though, is there?" Floyd observed, reaching forward to flip the page over, only to see the paragraph end abruptly. "You said you got this from Queen Essence. She's the Funk Queen, right?"

Branch nodded. "Yeah, they're here sometimes when Cooper wants to visit. The Funk Trolls are probably our closest allies thanks to that." He looked at Floyd strangely, eyebrows raised. "They haven't been around in a while, though. How'd you know who she was? Have you met her?"

The pink-haired troll shook his head. "Not entirely. I did meet Cooper and his brother Darnell, I think it was. They're the ones that told me about her." He yawned, covering it with his fist. "I just recognized the name is all."

"Enough of the chitchat!" John interjected, waving Branch's map around with a beaming smile. "We gotta get this show on the road! You guys get seated or you'll be thrown around by the time Rhonda really gets going!"

Bruce ruffled Floyd's hair a bit. "Why don't you take a nap, bro? You won't get to see much if you're tired when we get there. We'll make sure Johnny keeps her steady."

"Like I need help with that! I could steer 'ole Rhonda with my eyes closed!"

"Please don't." Branch grumbled quietly, but it was promptly ignored as John swiveled around in his seat to take hold of the controls.

In agreement with Bruce's suggestion, Clay nudged Floyd's shoulder softly with his elbow. "Get some rest, bro. Won't be much fun if you're still grumpy later on." Really, he just wanted his brother to feel better, and even just a few hours of sleep could help with that.

Floyd laughed softly, accepting the affection with a slow blink. "I guess I am a little crabby." That was an understatement, if his attitude toward Branch earlier had anything to say about it. "Maybe I should. Is it cool if I use your bed, John?"

"Be my guest, bro! It gets pretty cold in here. There are some extra blankets in the cupboard above the loft." The eldest flicked a few switches that Clay wasn't sure the purpose of, waving Floyd and the rest away to get seated.

"I'll help you get 'em. Don't even think about touching the radio before I get back, John. I got dibs on the station." Bruce warned, setting his bag next to one of the seats to claim it as his before slowly following the waddling Floyd to the back.

Clay shut Branch's book, watching them go, hoping that Floyd would get at least some peace during his sleep before turning towards his youngest brother.

Branch stiffened at his stare, tense. Clay could relate to that; he was nervous, too. He'd never gotten to have a genuine conversation with Branch. He wasn't even sure what to say, despite wracking his brain for something—no, anything— to talk about. He didn't know what his brother liked, any hobbies he might have aside from the newly discovered talent for drawing, trolls aside from Poppy that he might be friends with, or if they even had anything in common.

Sadly and pathetically, he had no idea who his little brother really was.

Still, if he didn't try now, when would he ever? Who knows if Branch would ask them to do something like this with him again?

"Hey, I wanted to ask for a copy of the map you made. For precautionary reasons, of course." That shouldn't be too bad of a conversation starter. It gave him something to request and something for Branch to provide.

The grayish-blue-haired troll surprised Clay by actually smiling. It was tiny, but still a smile nonetheless. He wasn't usually one for that unless Poppy was around, so it was an unexpected rarity. "I had a feeling you would ask." He stalked over to where he'd placed his and Floyd's luggage, rustling through it before pulling an identical piece of parchment as John's. Branch offered it to him bashfully. "I marked the golf course on this one. Figured you might wanna know where it's at."

Clay glanced down at the paper, a fond smile gracing his lips. It was like Branch had read his mind and knew he would ask where it was in correspondence with the rest of the world. It was a sweet gesture that didn't go unappreciated.

Branch cleared his throat, doing that thing he always did when he was anxious, hitting his clenched paws against the sides of his legs. The green-haired troll tilted his head, confused that his brother was suddenly uneasy.

"So... how are you doing?" The younger brother awkwardly quizzed. He fiddled with the hem of his shorts for a moment before elaborating. "Without Viva, I mean. I never see you guys apart."

Clay blinked in surprise. He wasn't sure if he was more shocked about the question or who had asked it. It wasn't a simple pleasantry that one might have with a stranger, but an honest start to a conversation that could last more than a few sentences. And Branch? Getting personal? That was certainly new. He didn't usually like being in the same room as any of them, let alone speaking to them.

It was different from the closed-off, quiet troll he'd pinned Branch as. He was a little touched by Branch's curiosity. It was unexpected and careful, almost as if Branch was testing how personal he could get. He felt a surge of happiness; this was his chance to bond with his little brother, something he hadn't been able to do since Branch avoided him most of the time.

Admittedly, Clay had felt lonely without Viva by his side. They'd been glued at the hip ever since the Great Bergen Attack. It was always the two of them, whether it was safety inspections, feelings circles, book club, or just sitting in silence and enjoying each other's company. There hadn't been a day since they found Hole 'N Fun that they were separated. Not even when he left her behind to save Floyd, she came after them despite her fear of the outside world. 

They were best friends as much as they were co-owners. Bonded through the tragedy of losing their friends, homes, and families. The two decades they'd spent together had been full of raw grief and companionship he'd never felt with any other troll before; she was important to him. Very important.

Before she left, Viva even asked if he wanted to come with her and Poppy. It was because of how special she was that he had to say no. He knew how much this meant to her, spending time with Poppy, whom she thought had died in the attack. Even though it was terrifying to let her go without him, he couldn't do that to the troll who meant the most to him.

It was hard without her constant chatter, but it would have been harder not to give her this opportunity that Viva'd been dreaming of ever since the Great Bergen Attack.

"Well, I miss her." He answered honestly, offering the book he was still holding back to Branch with a light smile. "But I'll be alright. I'm chill with being left out since this is something she wanted to do. Besides, now we're on our own little adventure. If John can get us there in one piece, that is."

"I heard that!" The eldest shouted from the driver's seat, stepping on the gas as soon as he spoke.

Rhonda jerked forward with a start, Branch and Clay stumbling a little at the unexpected leap.

The two unbalanced trolls exchanged deadpan stares, annoyed with their eldest brother's antics. Yeah, he definitely did that on purpose.

Deciding it was safer to sit than stand now that Rhonda was on the move, Clay plopped himself on the leather couch protruding out of Rhonda's shell. Branch surprised him once again by sitting next to him.

Clay watched him put Queen Essence's book back in the safety of his hair. "What about you? Miss Poppy any?"

Branch fiddled with his fingers, another nervous tick. "Yeah. We usually do these things together, but she was pretty excited to spend time with Viva, so I didn't want to ruin that. I am a little nervous that they're out there, though. I learned that she kinda always needs someone to watch her back after our last adventures. I wasn't kidding about the dancing into the open mouth of a predator thing."

"Y'know, that doesn't really surprise me. Poppy's pretty..." He juggled his words around, trying to find the right one that wouldn't outright insult her. "Enthusiastic. She's a lot of fun, though. Really knows how to party."

Branch huffed, suspiciously bordering on a laugh. "Trust me, you haven't seen anything yet. She's been busy repairing the village and the relocation stuff; the parties she's thrown recently are nothing compared to the regular ones."

Clay was again unsurprised. Poppy had thrown some pretty crazy ragers, but he always had an itching feeling it wasn't her best work. "I heard she was planning one for when the Putt-Putt Trolls move back to the village. Should we be worried?"

"Be prepared to find glitter everywhere. Everywhere ." The emphasis was not needed, but Clay got the message well enough. He'd been around Viva for far too long not to know the exact feeling. "It'll definitely be one of her biggest ones; we'll probably be up for a few days. You should have seen the one after the Rockapocalypse. It lasted an entire week."

"The Rockapocalypse, huh?" He questioned, adjusting the sweatbands on his wrists. "I heard that was pretty crazy. Something about King Peppy streaking with nothing but a lampshade? Kinda glad I wasn't there for that one, actually."

Branch cringed with his entire body. He shivered visibly, his tail going bone straight at the disturbing memory. His face resembled nothing short of a disgusted grimace. "Please don't bring that up again. I almost forgot about that."

Clay burst out laughing. It was the most expressive he'd seen his little brother in a long time. He wouldn't want to see an old troll in his birthday suit, either.

He felt a light bulb go off in his head. He'd thought about it earlier, but now that it was related to their discussion, he had an opening to ask. "Hey, that reminds me. I was wondering about the other tribes from this Rockapocalypse. I had no idea there was anything other than Pop."

The blue-furred troll shrugged, breaking his gaze away to pick at some lint on his shorts. "None of us did either until Queen Barb sent out invitations for everyone to bring their strings to her concert. She's better now, but she was a little... intense before. The other tribes are friendly enough, though. Poppy wants to make somewhere where all genres can come together, but she's had her paws full with relocating the trolls at Hole 'N Fun. It's been put on hold for a while."

Branch glanced up again, eyeing Clay up and down. "The Funk Trolls' music is pretty similar to ours; I think you'd like it a lot. It's easy to dance to." His little brother shrugged, tilting his head with a nervous smile. "Just seems up your alley."

"Hey, funk is pretty good."

They looked up as Bruce returned from the backroom, a lazy grin on his features. Floyd must have knocked out pretty quickly if he was back already. "Brandy's a big fan of it. A lot of different trolls come to the restaurant, so I've heard all kinds of stuff. My kids are into that hip-hop garbage, though. It's catchy, but a little too vulgar for me."

"You don't seem like the hip-hop kind of guy." Branch agreed. He folded his legs into his seat, his elbows resting on his crossed knees. "I bet you're secretly into jazz."

"I'm surprised you knew that." Bruce belly-laughed, brushing past them to fight with John about the radio. "Jazz is a sophisticated taste that very few can handle."

"Pah, sophisticated. Yeah, right." JD scoffed, shaking his head as the purple-haired troll shoved him playfully. The eldest shifted so Bruce could reach the knobs, casting a glance over the chair as he did. "Not bad, Branch. What do you think Floyd's into?"

The youngest shrugged aloofly, but his expression pinched into serious thought. "Rock. The acid-washed shorts are a dead giveaway. And," He gave John a cursory glance, even though the older had already faced the forest path ahead. "You're into country, aren't you?"

"Wow." John chuckled, impressed. "You are good. How'd you guess that?"

Branch hummed. "You just give off that vibe. Have you met Country Trolls before?"

"Yep! Rhonda and I spent a long time in their village after being on the road for a few years. Pretty good folk and really hard workers. The mayor there is something else; she's stubborn and hotheaded."

Clay couldn't help but snort. Those were two qualities his brother knew best. "I can see why you like her."

"Yeah, ha-ha, laugh it up, Funky. Ole Delta Dawn's nothing to mess with. Not even I get into it with her." The eldest made a waving motion with his paw. "The last time I saw her was right after the Rockapocalpse; she told me this funny story about a couple of Pop Trolls that broke out of her jail. That's how I found out the tribe hadn't been wiped out."

Bruce wandered over to one of the couches facing opposite Clay and Branch, flopping onto it. "Pop Trolls in jail, huh? Sounds pretty familiar." He smirked, brushing one of the poised bangs out of his face.

"Why would that sound familiar?" Clay asked, raising one eyebrow in confusion. Those two things didn't usually go together. Pop Trolls were gentle and almost entirely pacifistic. Jailtime was not usually anything they partook in; Pop Trolls didn't even have a jail, as far as he knew.

John Dory laughed from his seat. "Ask the guy next to you, bro."

Huh? The guy next to him? Branch ?!

Clay whirled around, his jaw dropping to the floor of Rhonda's carriage in disbelief. At his little brother's guilty face, he knew it wasn't just one of John's exaggerations. "You?!" He exclaimed at the youngest brother. "You went to jail ?!"

"It was only for five minutes!" Branch defended with a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "We broke out afterwards, so it's fine."

"No way." Clay had to stop himself from bursting out in laughter right then. He was incredulous. "Dude, no way! What were you even doing?"

The youngest tilted his head back with a groan. "Didn't we already talk about this?"

"Nuh-uh, not to me you didn't." Clay couldn't help but be incredibly curious. Branch? In jail? His brother may not be chipper and carefree like most trolls, but he couldn't imagine seeing his face behind bars. "I can't believe you're a felon!"

"Don't forget about Poppy. Apparently, she was the one that got them locked up." Bruce revealed mischievously.

His mind. Blown.

Clay finally allowed himself to laugh. It was too much to think that the Queen of Pop was the reason his little brother had a criminal record. This had to be the biggest plot twist of his life. "How in the world—no actual way, bro. I don't believe it! You gotta spill the deets, man. How did Poppy get you thrown in jail?!"

"It's nothing crazy. We just got into some trouble with the Country Trolls is all." Branch acted like he didn't want to reveal the details. He shifted in his seat, something suspiciously nearing a pout on his disgruntled face.

Clay was not letting this go, though. If Bruce and John knew about it, Branch had brought it up before. He leaned forward, a cutting grin on his face. "Spill." It was a simple demand that he was confident wouldn't be ignored. He was getting answers, and Branch couldn't weasel out of it.

The youngest huffed, shaking his head in silent concession. His lips turned upwards, just slightly. "Well, it's a long story."

He started off slowly at first, leaving out details and skipping around the story a bunch. He was tiptoeing around telling the full story, testing what he could share with them without another outburst. But as time rolled on, their brother gained a hesitant confidence and really began to open up about the crazy time he went to jail for five minutes.

Branch talked about the Rockapocalypse, the Classical Trolls' destroyed village in the high mountains, Delta Dawn and her trusty sidekick Clampers, the bounty hunters, the weird strings, and the other genres. There was even more than Clay had expected. K-Pop and Raeggaton were styles of music he hadn't heard of before. He wondered what those trolls were like.

Clay, Bruce, and John would offer comments every now and then but otherwise let their brother guide the conversation wherever he wanted. They liked seeing this side of Branch; he was a completely different troll from yesterday.

For the first few hours, things were peaceful. Rhonda's carriage was filled with exchanged stories and laughter. Clay's dread from that morning faded to a memory. It had been such a long time since he felt any resemblance of peace with his brothers; this was a rare moment where things in the past seemed to stay there.

But all good things must come to an end.

"John, all you had to do was follow the map." Bruce rubbed his temples in frustration and leaned over the driver's seat to see the blasted piece of paper, as if looking at it would magically make them not lost anymore.

"I was! Sometimes Rhonda drifts, I can't help that!" The eldest defended hotly, his paws on the steering wheel clenching hard enough to bend it. "It's not as easy as it looks following a map to somewhere you've never been."

Branch pointed a finger at the red line on the parchment, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His paw followed the line, muttering to himself for a moment. Clay peered over his shoulder, recognizing some of the landscapes they'd gone through but not the one they were in now.

Branch stopped on a leafy patch of sketched trees in the center of the map with a winding creek chicken scratched in. "We should be around this area. You're sure you haven't seen the river yet?"

"Positive," John assured, rubbing his forehead and fixing the goggles on his crown. "We were perfectly en route before we hit that weird sandy area, so Rhonda must have drifted then."

Clay exchanged a weathered glance with Bruce, shaking his head. Who knows how long they've been off course now? Classic John, too prideful to own up to his mistakes, as usual. Always blaming someone else.

This was a mess, and they were all beginning to get agitated with how long they'd been discussing how and when they got lost. Any louder and Floyd would wake up from his nap, and if there was one thing they didn't want to deal with, it was a grumpy pink-haired troll.

Clay sighed, trying to will himself not to wring John's neck. As much as he wanted to keep the peace, his brother was too frustrating. "Look, we're just going to have to backtrack through the desert and find out where we got turned around. Obviously, someone else should have been helping with directions."

So much for a peaceful brothers' retreat.

Branch and Bruce sent wide-eyed glances at Clay. His comment had been accusatory, and JD was sure to notice it was, too. The oldest troll stiffened in his seat and finally pulled Rhonda off to a slow stop so they could get their bearings.

He sent an offended look over his shoulder at Clay when the armadillo had completely halted, lips pursed tightly. "Obviously? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means what you think it does. If you'd been paying attention, maybe we wouldn't be lost." The green-haired troll retorted, crossing his arms over his chest as their glares collided like striking metal swords.

John blinked, appearing hurt by what Clay said, but instead, he hardened his expression. "Oh, yeah, because no one has ever gotten lost before. You really think it's so easy; maybe you should drive then!"

"I'd love to, but someone likes being in control of everything."

"Guys." Branch tried to intervene, but he was immediately drowned out by John's obnoxious scoff.

"That's real cheap. You didn't have any complaints when we first left. I'd love to see how on track you would stay going through a flat desert with no landmarks." John huffed, waving his paw like his words meant nothing.

Clay felt his blood boil in his veins. He wondered if he was this angry because they were lost or simply because John was the one who had gotten them lost. That and his dismissive attitude about the whole situation were just that much more irksome. "You know, for a troll who spent most of his life in the wilderness, I would think you'd have at least a little sense of direction. I wonder how many years you spent not knowing where you were if you can't even get us someplace a few hours away!"

John flinched, his eyebrows jutting up. Clearly, that had hit a nerve, but why, Clay had no idea. He was a little stunned himself. That had come out... worse than intended. But his pride stopped him from showing that he regretted saying it.

Bruce put a paw on Clay's shoulder, finally intervening. "That's enough." He leveled both of them with a look that said ' knock it off '; it was a warning, one both brothers reluctantly conceded to.

They fell quiet, Clay and John staring bullets at each other with an intensity that seemed to leech on every conversation they shared.

Branch cleared his throat, apprehensively breaking the awkward silence. He tried to keep his face neutral, but the slight bend of his lips proved that he disapproved of how quickly things had soured. "Um. The good news is we don't need to turn around." He placed the map back on the dashboard with a nervous twitch in his tail. "If we keep going straight, we should find the river. We just have to follow it upstream after that to get back on track."

Bruce gave Clay a fixed look, then the back of John Dory's olive-hair-covered head. He gave a defeated, entirely silent sigh before pushing his shoulders back and fixing his face with a beaming smile. He clearly wanted to address the tension but decided against it.

"Great! See, no need to fight." He reached over and ruffled Branch's hair. It would seem that that was starting to become a tradition among the brothers. "Nice job, B. Got a time estimate on when we should get there?"

The youngest glanced out the window, frowning as he fixed his hair while finding the sun beginning to dip into the canopy of trees they'd managed to end up in. "Sunset. We've probably been off track for a while, but we should still get there before dark."

"Well, then, hit it, John! We've already lost enough time as it is!" Bruce wrapped an arm around Clay's shoulders, squeezing him a little before dragging him away from the driver's seat. "Why don't you help find the river, Branch? You've got a keen eye." He winked, dragging the middle brother with him.

It was clear he was separating them before it got ugly, but in reality, that argument had been pretty tame compared to what they were used to; it was nothing next to the one they had the day Clay first arrived. Still, Bruce must be trying to avoid a full-scale screamout, so the green-haired troll didn't resist being guided away.

The youngest raised an eyebrow, grumbling something under his breath before turning to the window as John put Rhonda back into drive. Clay didn't miss the way Branch glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, his frown deepening even as Bruce hauled him off.

Clay eyed John, who had grown eerily silent, but the older troll had turned in his seat. His comment must have really upset him. He hadn't meant for that to happen; despite how much he wanted to feel triumphant over wiggling under JD's skin, it didn't feel as good as he thought it would. 

Bruce plopped in a seat, his arm still wrapped around Clay to bring him down, too.

The purple-haired troll glanced towards the front of the armadillo bus, confirming the other two were distracted before leveling Clay with a wobbly-browed frown. "You alright, man?" He kept his voice quiet yet still conveyed his concern in the ' Bruciest ' way possible. Had anyone else asked that, Clay would have thought it was condescending. But it was Bruce, the guy who always had his back. Just leave it to him to act like a doting father, even to his very grown siblings. 

The green-haired troll huffed, waving Bruce's arm off of him. "I'm fine." He barked, cringing at his scathing tone. He was more aggravated than he thought.

"Really? Cause you almost bit John Dory's head off a second ago." The purple-haired troll sank back in his seat, disappointed. 

Clay sucked in a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. Bruce was right; it wasn't like him to pick a fight like that. A part of him just wanted to show his brother what it felt like to be scrutinized for everything.

Still, he was a prideful troll and couldn't help but defend himself. "It's not like what I said wasn't true. We wouldn't be lost if he'd just followed the map. You were mad at him too."

Bruce chuckled, though it felt flat and void of any humor. " I didn't yell at him, though. And I'm not blind, Clay. I know this isn't about him getting us lost." He tilted his head. "C'mon, bro. What's really bothering you?"

Clay hated how perceptive his brothers were sometimes. He wasn't even sure what he was mad about because he was angry at everything . About John, the backpack, being lost. So many things had happened in just a month—things he couldn't let go of and let fester into grudges.

Why was he so angry about this? Why was he so angry with John Dory all the time? Clay already knew the answer, and yet it was so hard to admit.

He glanced back at Bruce, his stubborn resolve fizzing out at the support he found in his older brother's face. If there was anyone who could truly understand what he was feeling, it would be the second-oldest.

He sighed, fiddling with the sweatbands on his arms absentmindedly. It was time to be a little honest with not just himself but his brother as well.

"He never apologized."

Judging by how Bruce's eyebrows jerked up to his hairline, his brother hadn't expected that.

But now that it was out in the open, there was no taking it back. Bruce waited for him to elaborate because it was quite a vague statement.

"He's never apologized for anything. Even when he knows he screwed up. And it's so frustrating ." He ran a paw through his wild, green hair, finally admitting what he'd known was the issue for the past few weeks—no, what the problem had been their whole lives. "He got us lost, he ruined the band with his perfection, he made us hate each other for years. And he's never owned up to it. Brozone was some of the worst years of my life, our lives, but it's like he doesn't acknowledge that at all!"

The years of being pressured into being someone he wasn't, being the fun one all the time, the laughing stock of the crowds, and in his own family. Clay had been nothing but a joke to anyone who knew his name; it had destroyed his reputation and confidence. All because John Dory wanted Brozone to be some perfect little boy band.

Clay was terrified of doing anything except reading books and writing up schematics or rules for the golf course because the word ' fun' was scary to be associated with now. He didn't want the trolls he knew and saw every day to think of him any less because of the screw-up prankster he'd once been.

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he really got upset. "I just... want him to take accountability for once, y'know?"

Bruce didn't speak, thrown off by Clay's admission. He must not have expected Clay to be so honest about it, cueing his shocked silence. The older troll glanced back up to the cockpit at Branch and John, who were oblivious to their conversation, finally understanding what had set the green-haired troll off.

But then, the purple-haired brother nudged his side, bringing his attention up from the floor that he hadn't realized he'd begun glaring at.

Bruce smiled, empathetic and wise. "I do know. And trust me, you aren't the only one waiting. Take it from the guy who's known him the longest: apologies have never been easy for John. Stubbornness is like a right of passage in this family." He leaned back, his purple eyes never leaving Clay's electric yellow. "But he doesn't do anything half-assed. If I know him, he's well on his way to cooking up the apology of all apologies. You gotta give him some more time to sort himself out."

"He's had twenty years to do that!" It was outrageous to even insinuate that he should have more patience when the past two decades of separation were because of what their brother had done.

Bruce nodded. "I know. To John, apologizing is like admitting he messed up, and acknowledging he was wrong is harder for him than you think. It's like his Achilles's heel."

"Yeah, well, his Achilles's heel is dragging all of us down, and you know it. Why do we have to keep feeding into his ego because he can't admit he failed?"

"We aren't feeding into anything. We're being patient. Like someone else is being with us." Bruce gestured to the front again, making Clay pull his focus despite not wanting to. He was curious about what Bruce meant.

He found Branch standing beside John's driver seat, arms crossed over his chest with an almost bored expression as he watched the outside world fly by the windshield.

Ah. Now Clay understood.

"Branch has every right to be upset with us, but none of us have apologized to him yet. We're waiting for the right time, figuring out what to say, wondering if our apology will even mean anything. I'm pretty sure the same goes for John Dory." Bruce offered a stronger smile. "John might have a lot to make up for, but we aren't entirely innocent either. You're more similar to him than you think, bro."

Clay glanced back to the front, his eyes lingering on Branch. The youngest of them had been through so much, and despite none of them giving him a proper 'I'm sorry' for everything they put him through, he still invited them on this trip in good graces. He was angry at them; that was clear, but he was still extending this chance to them regardless of his real feelings.

His eyes then fell back on John, who was zoned in on finding that river to get them back on track.

Clay sighed reluctantly. His oldest brother had always been a pain, and getting along with him never seemed to work out. But if it was to keep the peace, at least for this trip, he would do his best to get along with John. No promises it would last, however. He was still feeling a bit irked about their stupid argument over the backpack, and the one just a few minutes ago hadn't helped ease those feelings either. 

A sour feeling rose in his chest, but he quelled it to a simmer after some reflection. Bruce was right. If Branch could live in peace with them despite their flaws, Clay should be able to do the same with John Dory.

"I see your point. I guess we're just as guilty as him. I'm still pissed, though." He said the last part with a smile, trying to alleviate some of the intensity in their conversation.

A laugh bubbled out of Bruce's chest, the stylish troll pushing one of his arched bangs out of his face. "Well, I can live with that. Just try and get along with him for this trip. It'll mean a lot to Branch. And hey, maybe you and John can find some middle ground after all of this. I predict you guys are gonna hug before we leave."

"Very funny." Clay snorted, feeling eons better than he did five minutes ago. He was glad he got that off his chest. If there was one guy he could rely on, he was thankful it was Bruce. His big brother always knew what to say and was wiser than Clay would have expected from him. "Thanks, man. For hearing me out."

Bruce's expression softened, a warmth coming to his already rosy cheeks. "Hey, what are brothers for?"

They fell into a comfortable silence, the radio drawing out some convoluted serenade as the minutes ticked on.

The opening of the door leading to John Dory's bedroom creaked as it became ajar. A fresh-faced, much more well-rested Floyd emerged, a sparkle in his eyes that hadn't been there before he took his nap.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Bruce motioned to the couch adjacent to the one they sat on. He couldn't resist a good tease; it was just in his nature. "I know you need your beauty sleep, but isn't five hours a little much for a nap?"

Floyd chuckled, gracefully stumbling to sit on the leather cushion. He didn't sport his trusty cane, probably feeling good enough to walk around without it. The sleep must have done well for him. His fur and hair had returned to their usual colors. He looked healthier and less like a dead troll walking.

"Hey, beauty takes time." The pink-haired troll stretched his legs with a yawn for good measure. "Jealousy is not a good color on you, Bruce."

"Jealousy? Hah, don't flatter yourself." He waved a dismissive paw in the air. Bruce straightened his vest before sinking back into the cushion. "I know I look good."

Clay rolled his eyes at his older brother's blatant confidence, a light smile pulling his lips up. He looked Floyd up and down, relieved to see him less pale and more like himself. "Feel any better?"

Floyd nodded, a relieved sigh puffing out of his mouth. "Much. Guess I needed that more than I thought." He jerked his head up to the front. "How far along are we? I figured we'd be there by now."

"We got a little off track, but Branch and John are working on getting us back on schedule. B said we should be there by sunset, so give or take an hour," Bruce explained, glancing back up to the front to see the progress on refinding the path there.

"Off-track? What, did John Dory fall asleep at the wheel again?" He snickered into his paw as Branch and John perked to attention at his voice.

They relaxed at the sight of Floyd, Branch's shoulders not as tight, and John's posture straightening a little at their gentle brother's return. They must have been worried, but that was a given. Floyd hadn't looked so good before his nap; now that he was back and well-rested, their concern disappeared like smoke.

JD flashed him one of his Hollywood grins, seeming to have gotten over his earlier upset. "Not a wink! Rhonda decided she wanted to take the scenic route, but we found the river, so we're already on the right track again." He turned back to the dense woods and winding brook as their guide. "Glad to see you up and about, bro! You look like a new troll."

The gentle brother smiled with that mischievous glint in his eyes, as usual. "I feel like one. Really, though, John. Your bed is like a rock. Is that why you have so many back problems?"

"Hey! Make fun of it now, but I know you slept like a baby!"

The cabin fell into heart-warming laughter. The tension after Clay's mini spat with John Dory seemed to flee with Floyd's presence. He always had a way of brightening the room when he showed up; he was an important part of their family that couldn't be replaced. In a way, they all were.

Clay glanced at the cockpit as the laughter subsided, thinking about his and Bruce's conversation about their eldest sibling. He wished he could understand John as their brother did. It would make this whole forgiving and forgetting thing a whole lot easier.

He turned back to Bruce, who was already returning the stare, an encouraging, knowing smile on his face.

Clay couldn't help but reciprocate, relaxing back into his seat as his brothers around him conversed and laughed. It was like old times when the world hadn't corrupted them or their memories, exactly like when they were kids before Brozone.

Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.

------------------------------

It was hours later before the long ride finally came to an end. Chatter had filled Rhonda's carriage, the lilting songs on the radio becoming background noise. Surprisingly, despite the hiccups along the way, no major fight broke out, and a relatively sound peace had settled around them. For that, they were all grateful.

For the first time in a long time, they were getting along. Clay couldn't help but feel something was brewing, however. There was tension, as unsaid as it was, because they all knew there were things that they needed to talk about. It would seem none of them were ready to bring them up yet, which was alright with him.

"I think we made it." Branch's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, interrupting Bruce's rendition of when his eldest son had bravely eaten an entire box of tissues.

The youngest troll leaned away from the dashboard, and for once, he genuinely seemed excited. It was a rare expression to be on the usually reserved brother's face—quite a nice surprise. He pulled the book he'd researched this trip with out of his hair and threw it open to the section he'd bookmarked.

John peeked over at the book and then back outside, where the scenery of the dense forest had changed almost completely. "I think you're right, Branch. This looks like the place! I'll pull Rhonda over on that ridge over there, give us a good view of everything."

And, wow, was the view stunning.

Immediately after stepping out of Rhonda, the air was different. It smelt sweet and warm. A menagerie of flower species and trees freckled the ridgeline John Dory parked them on. The smell of pollen and nectar soaked the air with an aroma as enticing as the landscape around it. Already, it was like something none of them had ever seen before.

Pop Village was earthy and filled with plants, but this was on a different level. Flowers, mushrooms, saplings, and full-grown willows—it was everywhere! The mountains were blanketed by a thick layer of wispy grass that waved like the ocean in the wind, but the explosion of color from the surrounding fauna was the real attention-grabber.

Yellow, pinks, purples, and blues covered the dipping valley beneath them, like something straight out of a Pop Troll's wildest dreams. It was so bright, and though there were no critters that weren't pollinators and insects, it was full of life.

The mountains surrounding the valley seemed to poke right into the sky, touching the clouds above them. The golden light of the setting sun burning the azure sky a brilliant orange and yellow only helped to enhance the beautiful landscape that disappeared far out past the horizon. And between the peaks, the winding, stone-polishing river they'd followed to get here carved through the valley, giving it a magical, almost ethereal finishing touch.

The trees lining the jagged rocks seemed to be... singing? No, not singing, but a melody echoed throughout the grove, soft, subtle, yet still audible. It was like the leaves and limbs shaken by the wind were musical instruments, a lilting lullaby breathing energy and magic where the gale blew.

This was it. This was Melodtree Grove living up to its namesake.

"Wow." Clay had no other words. This place was incredible! The pictures in Branch's book did not do the actual reference justice. There was only so much beauty a troll could convey in a drawing, but this? This was really a life-changing sight.

The five brothers stood side-by-side at the brink of the jagged cliff, drinking in the gorgeous view in collective awe. Even John had gone quiet to revel in the sight that seemed like something out of a fantasy novel.

Bruce smiled, his paws on his hips as his purple eyes sparkled in wonder. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I wish I'd brought a camera," Floyd added, nudging Branch with his elbow playfully. "Shoulda asked Poppy to borrow her's."

The youngest pulled his enchanted gaze away from the gorge. He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Poppy doesn't trust me with her camera anymore."

A sputtering laugh came out of Floyd's chest, flabbergasted. That was not a response any of them saw coming. "What? Why?"

"..." Just when it looked like he wasn't going to answer, Branch's expression crumpled. "I broke it."

Clay gave a bent smile, glancing down at his youngest brother. "Once?"

"... More than once." He shrugged. "It was an accident."

John Dory hummed, tapping his chin in thought. "That's not what she told me. Something about having a picture of you at last year's Holly Holiday Party and you swearing revenge." His grin sharpened, eyeing the blue-haired troll who suddenly went stiff.

"Still an accident." The youngest crossed his arms over his chest, but his face went dark in embarrassment. Then he changed his approach with, "That picture was evil, and she knows it."

Clay laughed out loud, and he wasn't the only one either. The four older brothers couldn't help but find humor in their youngest sibling's struggle with his girlfriend, who was the complete opposite of him. Clay couldn't decide if it was funnier that Poppy had taken multiple embarrassing pictures of Branch or the fact that he'd destroyed her camera enough times that she no longer trusted him with it.

"I think I'm gonna have to ask Poppy for that picture. If she's anything like Viva, I bet she has a copy or two." Clay teased, and somehow, Branch's face got several shades darker.

"She might. But she won't show it to you. If she does, I get to show everyone the scrapbook she made about Creek." He crossed his arms over his chest, his tail swishing behind him.

"Who's Creek?" Floyd asked. It was not a name any of them had heard before, but if Poppy made a whole art project about the guy, they must be close.

Or maybe not.

Branch stiffened, his expression becoming tight as something uncomfortable settled on the youngest brother's mind. Maybe he hadn't meant to bring that person up, or it had just slipped out. Regardless, he frowned in a way that made it clear that whoever this Creek character was was not a liked troll in his book.

"He's not someone that matters anymore. Kinda betrayed the whole village. Poppy was really good friends with him, so she was a little more angry at him than the rest of us. The scrapbook she made about him is..." His lips quirked up, seemingly... proud? "Not very kid-friendly, if you get the gist."

Clay and the others exchanged curious, albeit concerned, glances. Poppy's scrapbooks were usually filled with glitter and bright, eye-assaulting colors. To hear that she'd made one that was so inappropriate was a little shocking. And about a fellow Pop Troll? That was even more bewildering.

"Should we even ask why?" Bruce questioned, knowing this would probably drive the conversation in a direction Branch might not want to go down.

The youngest shook his head, reacting exactly as they expected him to. "It really doesn't matter. We survived, which is more than I can say about him. We haven't seen him since we made peace with the Bergens." He hit the sides of his legs with his fists, rocking back and forth on his heels. Branch shrugged after some quiet reflection, his eyes traveling back to the grove before them. "I'll tell you guys about him eventually, but I wouldn't bring it up to anyone else. I was never friends with him, but the whole village loved him. It's kind of a touchy subject."

Clay hummed, following his little brother's gaze and marveling at Melodtree Grove. "I'm starting to see the village has a lot of touchy subjects."

In the past few days, almost every time they asked about a big event that happened, Branch almost always brushed it off as something they shouldn't carelessly bring up. As happy-go-lucky as the Pop Trolls acted, it would be hard to tell when a subject bothered them. Apparently, there were more things they shouldn't talk about than Clay realized.

"I guess we do." Branch agreed, his ears twitching as the wind picked up and the singing trees could be heard more vibrantly. Something flickered across his face, but it was gone before Clay could decipher it.

John slung an arm over the youngest's shoulders, jostling him a little. "Don't get all mopey on us now! We just got here!" He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Let's set up camp here; it's got a great view!"

"John Dory's right. As lovely as this sunset is, it's getting darker." Floyd agreed.

"Hey, I'll round us up some grub!" Bruce jeered easily, punching Clay softly in the shoulder as he turned around. "Gotta show Johnny how a real campfire meal tastes!"

John Dory scoffed, scuttling after the purple-haired troll with the words, ' You don't even know how to make a campfire! '

Clay shook his head, turning back towards the setting sun and finally to Branch. The youngest offered a weak shrug at their older brothers' banter, his eyes shining in delight, though his face remained lax.

The green-haired troll shared the amused sentiment, gesturing quietly towards the armadillo bus. It was still a little awkward talking with Branch, but he could do this much.

His youngest brother wistfully glanced at the landscape before forcing himself to help set up a campfire that John Dory was eagerly bragging he could do himself.

Clay couldn't help but take a moment to look around, observing their little campsite for the evening. It was a small clearing, surrounded by draping willow leaves and wispy white vines, and the grass had left patches of dirt in the rocky crevices of the cliff they were perched on. It was the perfect clearing to set up a nice campfire and relax under the canopy for their first night there.

Don't get him wrong; this place was beautiful—far more than he could have imagined.

But it was calm. Too calm.

Maybe he was paranoid, like John Dory had said, but paranoia is what kept him alive all these years at Hole 'N Fun. He knew something was off now that he wasn't mesmerized by the view. He felt all tingly, a warning from his instincts buzzing under his blue fur.

Without critters in the surrounding forests, the only noise was the singing bark of the Melodtree willows. As full of life as this place felt, there was an odd death to it, too. There was nothing here except for them; that was strange to him. The grove was vast, reaching beyond what he could see; how could such a large, stretching forest have no critters, docile or aggressive? Were they actually as alone as it felt?

The view had been enough to distract him from it, but there was something weird about this place. Really weird.

He startled back into focus when Floyd called his name, giving one last look over his shoulder with a frown before joining his brothers around the puny fire.

The bad feeling from this morning returned as he settled on a fallen log to watch the embers kick to life. It wasn't the same dread he'd felt about spending the week with John Dory, but something entirely different.

It hadn't been too long since he found out the Bergens weren't a threat anymore, but even in that short period, he'd been able to relax without fear for the first time in two decades. In this forest, however, that same feeling was settling back in, leeching on him in a way that unsettled him.

He didn't like having that sensation of paranoia return. Not here in a place none of them knew anything about. The bright neon colors of the sweet flowers and the singing bark of the Melodtrees felt too... perfect.

Something wasn't right, his mind kept saying, running around and around in circles as the fire grew and the night cooled. Things were okay with his brothers for now, and he wasn't one to want to dampen the mood with his anxieties. He decided to keep his growing unease to himself.

He would come to regret that sooner rather than later.