"I believe that everything happens for a reason.

People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."

― Marilyn Monroe

Chapter One

The Journey Home

Creek gasped, his breath ragged from fear, and his eyes broadened. He bolted upright, glancing at his surroundings. His eyes darted from one point to another at a dizzying speed, yet he somehow registered enough of the surroundings to notice it was nighttime and he was outside.

"Wh-," he started to stammer, his throat painfully dry, "where am I?"

It was then that he noticed the coolness of metal pressed against his backside and that steel bars were blocking portions of his vision. Metallic clanks of a large lock bashing against those bars sent a chill down the troll's spine. Despite it being dark and his state of mind being discombobulated, it wasn't hard for Creek to infer he was in a cage.

"What's going on here? Wh-who's there?" He called out, straining his voice to make himself louder, to make his presence known. Silence was the only response, which filled him with conflicting emotions. He wasn't certain he was alone, for he felt the cage rocking as though it were being suspended by something or someone. "Ahem," he continued, putting on a false air of confidence, "I do believe I've asked you, whoever you may be, a question. It isn't polite to ignore someone, ya'know?"

Again, the sound of silence buzzed in his ears. He briefly crinkled his nose in frustration, but slowly felt his panic overtake all other emotions. Fear fueled his heart rate and breath, his lungs feeling too heavy for his chest. He could sense himself reaching the cusp of a panic attack, something he hadn't experienced since he'd learned the art of meditation. Naturally, he attempted to calm himself with the methods he'd mastered over the years; he drew in a deep breath and began to hum his mantra.

However, after the third or fourth repetition (each getting progressively louder and prolonged), a harsh shushing hit his ears. It was an oddly familiar hiss, drawing his mind away from his impromptu meditation.

"Shh, shh, shh," the familiar hiss continued, seemingly coming from nearby. Creek craned his head toward the sound, peering over his shoulder. "Be quiet," the voice insisted, speaking in a low, yet firm tone. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

Branch was dangling by one of the bars on the outer portion of the cage. He'd apparently climbed up the side, which was proven by his hand gesturing to the ground; the entire earth below was a sea of trolls.

"Br-Branch…? Branch, what's happening?"

"Shh!" Branch repeated, pressing his finger to the scowl curling along his lips. "Look," he began, sharpening his whisper, "we're taking you back to the village. Don't know why, but Poppy insisted we come back looking for you. We found you in the forest in the fanny-pack that Bergen chef lady was wearing. You're just lucky that it protected you from the digestive juices of that forest creature… and that Poppy is such a forgiving person."

Creek's face wrinkled with confusion, but soon stretched into shock and then guilt. His hazy memories were slowly strengthening and threading themselves together. Suddenly, he recalled everything – being kidnapped at the party, brought to Bergen Town, wrapped in a taco shell and shoved into the mouth of the king; it all crept back into focus. However, the memory that caused his face to soften with shame was the final few before he'd fallen unconscious. He'd made a deal with the devil, placing the lives of all his fellow trolls on the line to save his own skin. He'd let his emotions get the better of him and agreed to assist in the mass genocide of his own people.

"Oh," he murmured, unsure of how to respond. His stomach churned as the thoughts of his own actions made him sick. His eyes averted to the ground, unable to make eye contact with the troll in front of him.

"Branch!" Poppy's somewhat shrill voice called from the ground. "Is Creek okay?"

Branch released one hand from the bar in order to balance himself as he bent toward her. He wanted to answer without compromising the low volume of his voice. He managed to get himself low enough to the ground without returning to it, making him able to whisper to Poppy without leaving the cage.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Although, I won't be able to know for sure until we get him back to the village."

Poppy gave a playful salute of understanding before instantly taking charge. She hopped on the balls of her feet, skipping to the front of the crowd. She began giving directions with her hands and boosting morale with a cheerful decree, "okay, everyone, let's go home! Trolls! Trolls!"

"Trolls! Trolls! Trolls!" The crowd mimicked her chant, their energy growing. They began to shake the cage they were carrying, lifting it much like a weight, in their triumph. This shifting caused Branch to instinctively cling to one of the cage's bars, hugging it in fear that he may fall.

Creek's eyes finally flicked back to Branch, watching as he desperately tried to keep his grip on the steel rod. Creek's face was blank for a moment until a change he'd failed to notice earlier suddenly registered. His brow quirked in confusion when he noticed bright teal skin and vivid blue locks practically glowing from within the darkness. "Branch? Branch, you're… you're blue? I mean, you're so… so colorful! You're practically glowing!"

"Yeah, yeah," the other snapped, still holding onto the bar and his lunch, which was swishing uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. The constant and uneven jostling was inducing a form of seasickness. "No thanks to you."

"But, how? How on earth did you ever-,"

"I don't have time to explain," Branch interrupted, glaring at the caged troll. "Besides, if you'd been with us in that pot, maybe you'd know how."

A flash of heartache and regret tainted Creek's face, the statement causing his stomach to churn for reasons other that the rocking cage. An apology flavored his tongue, but he found his throat too tight and dry to form speech. Instead, he rummaged through his turquoise hair and removed a pin. He shuffled across the cage's floor, the sound of his feet drawing the outsider's attention. "Here," he finally managed to say, passing the pin through the bars, "use this. It should be just strong enough to jimmy that pesky lock."

Suspicion creased Branch's brow, souring the beauty of his new vibrancy. His eyes narrowed as they observed the pin, then narrowed further when they focused on the other troll's face.

"Oh no, I'm not letting you out until we're as far away from here as possible," he bitterly explained, pushing the pin away. "You really expect me to think you won't go running back to Bergen Town and tell your precious Chef where we are?"

Creek sighed, "it wasn't like that, Branch." His tone was defensive, yet countered by an odd weariness. He rejected the others wish to return the pin and practically forced it into his hand. "This isn't to let me out, it's to let you in."

A snort of a laugh escaped from Branch's nose before he sarcastically responded, "thanks, but I'll pass on that one. Even if I did trust you, you kind of," he scrunched his nose at the smell still lingering from Creek, "well, smell..."

Despite the hurt weighing on his heart and mind, Creek couldn't help but give a small chuckle. He shrugged his shoulders, nodding in agreement. "Well, I suppose that tends to happen when one has been in the belly of a beast and – err, let's say – excreted. Shall we?"

A simple eye roll was the only reply.

"Okay, everybody," Poppy declared once again, hopping onto a rock and pointing toward the night sky. "That's the North Star, and that's what's going to get us back home." She reached into her pink locks and withdrew her cowbell, hitting it for a single powerful note. "Follow that star!" She pointed to the star again with her mallet before slipping the instrument back into its follicle home.

"Star! Star!" The swarm commenced to chant, shaking the cage more rigorously than before. Branch felt himself begin to slip and his head start to spin. His mouth gaped open to shout at the crowd, but before he could speak, Creek interjected.

"Please," he softly said, gesturing to the pin he'd given away earlier, "join me, Branch. It's much more comfortable in here, I can assure you. No risk off falling when there's a nice floor under your feet, yeah?"

While Branch's eyes narrowed once again, Creek picked up a flicker of contemplation in them. The blue eyes glanced aimlessly at the pin then toward the lock, slowly softening as the mind behind them gave up the fight. A sigh flitted from Branch's chest as he reluctantly started to leap from one bar to another, cautiously making his way toward the lock.

A sharp jolt of the cage nearly caused him to lose his grip, forcing him to grab tightly to the lock and absentmindedly shout into the crowd, "hey!"

The chanting trolls below, however, weren't able to hear him over their determination and their cries about the star. Branch grumbled under his breath when he went ignored, but continued his motions once he felt it was safe. He fumbled with the pin for a moment before jamming it into the lock's mechanisms. A few rough jostles and twists caused a series of clicking until a final, sharper click hit the air, the lock swinging open along with the door.

Without a word or any type of acknowledgment of the other, Branch clambered into the cage, letting the door swing behind him. He slipped against the smooth surface as another troll lifted his temporary home. He scowled, muttering to himself, "that's getting really old, really fast..."

Creek tittered, shaking his head at how, despite the new color scheme, the other was still typical Branch. The purple troll shuffled over to his new cellmate before sitting with his legs crossed and his arms resting peacefully atop his thighs. He flipped his hair and drew in a cleansing breath, falling back into his meditative state. A smile quirked the corners of his lips and he looked up at Branch.

"Have a seat, mate. I've got a hunch it's going to be a long ride home."

Despite the nagging in his gut, Branch's shoulders slumped and he obliged, taking a seat next to the person he trusted the least in the world. He looked toward the sky, staring at it from between the bars looming above them, growing caught up in his thoughts, which seemed as plentiful as the billions of stars.

"Yeah, a really long ride..."

"I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you."

― Friedrich Nietzsche