When a young troll gets lost in the woods, and ends up being raised by Cuddle Pups, will he ever learn to fit in?
Another raised by wolves story. Can you tell I love dogs and Branch? Puppies+Branch=Puppy Branch 💕
The little two year old whimpered at the sight of the massive Bergen standing right in front of him.
His ears drooped down in fear, his eyes wide, as he stared up at the monster towering over him.
"Well... well... well..." the Bergen said, chuckling slightly. "Looks like we've got a little escape artist here." "Uh... um... I... I..." Branch stammered, his heart racing in fear, as he backed away slowly.
The little blue troll looked to his friends, who were still in the Troll Tree cage, watching him as they laughed at his misfortune.
"Ding dong the runt is dead. The runt is dead. The runt is dead. Ding dong the dorko runt is dead!" the kids sang, dancing around in celebration, as they laughed.
Branch's heart sank at their words... they really weren't going to help him? But... but they were his friends...
Quickly, the Bergen reached down, scooping the little blue Troll off of the ground.
"AHHH! No! Help!" Branch cried out, squirming around in the beast's hand. "Someone help!"
"Don't worry, Branch!" one of the little girls called out. He looked down at her, tears of fear rolling down his cheeks. "No one will miss you!" she finished with a laugh, the other kids laughing along.
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Branch looked back up at the Bergen, who smirked down at his mid-afternoon snack.
"It's not technically Trollstice yet..." the Bergen stated with a grin. "But I'm sure one little Troll won't be missed."
He started raising Branch to his mouth, the laughter of his so called 'friends', ringing in his ear drums.
"N... no..." Branch whimpered. "Please no... no!"
Quickly, he bit down on the Bergen's large greenish-grey hand, as hard as he possibly could.
"Ow!" the Bergen screeched, immediately dropping the little blue Troll to the ground. "You little runt!"
He reached for the little Troll again, but Branch quickly jumped to his feet, running off as fast as he could into the forest.
"Get back here!" the Bergen shouted, running after him. "Yeah! Come back you little whimp!" one of the kids yelled from the troll tree. "Take your fate like a man!"
But Branch didn't stop. He didn't turn back. He just kept running as fast as his little legs would take him.
Finally, he reached the safety of the forest, concealing himself in the rows of large trees.
The Bergen stopped at the edge of Bergen Town, looking off into the forest, the little blue Troll completely out of sight.
"Ugh!" he groaned in frustration, turning back towards Bergen Town, giving up the chase for his lunch. "I hate fast food..." he grumbled, stomping back towards his home.
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As Branch ran, the slight ache in his right leg, quickly grew into a sharp pain. It was still bleeding fiercely from when he scratched it on the bars of the Troll Tree cage, and the pain it gave him was getting worse and worse by the second.
He looked around, making sure he was no longer being followed, before allowing himself to fall to the ground, panting heavily in fear and exhaustion.
Slowly, he looked down at his leg, seeing the massive scratch piercing his blue skin.
Luckily, the little troll remembered what his grandma had taught him, before she unfortunately passed away. She had taught him how to tend to his own injuries, knowing that one day, she wouldn't be there to protect him.
Branch looked around, finally spotting a leaf growing from a short tree, just low enough for him to reach.
He pushed himself up to his feet, and then grabbed the leaf, plucking it off of the tree, so he could gently wrap it around his injured leg.
Once he was finished tending to his wound, he looked around, trying to figure out his way home.
"Hello!?" he called out. "Can anyone help me!? I'm lost!"
There was no answer...
Branch sighed, looking up at the sky. It was starting to get dark, all kinds of creatures screaming in the night, their calls echoing through the forest.
"Ok..." he said to himself. "I'll just... make a shelter and then find my way home in the morning. Yeah... that's what I'll do."
The little Troll began to collect sticks from the forest floor, putting them together to make a small but sturdy shelter. Another thing his grandma had taught him to do.
He climbed into the shelter, sitting down with a sigh, as he thought about his grandma. She had died only a few weeks ago, and he missed her so much. She was his only family, and after she passed... Branch was all alone...
Most Trolls died of being eaten. That was just how life as a Troll worked in the Troll Tree, but his grandma had managed to live a long and healthy life, dying of natural causes as she grew older. That was probably due to her survival skills. Skills that she taught Branch before she passed.
Branch looked up at the sky, watching the stars as they twinkled in the night.
"I miss you, gwama..." he whispered.
Tears came to his crystal blue eyes, as he buried his face into his knees, beginning to cry, his soft sobs quickly turning to wails of despair.
