Trolls 3.0

Found

John Dory loved the outdoors.

This was something that he had known ever since he was a small Trolling in diapers, and Spruce was just a mere egg. There was something about nature that he felt connected with, though he couldn't pinpoint what exactly; Maybe it was the green of the leaves, some of which nearly matched his hair color exactly. Maybe it was the way the breeze caressed his skin like silk, light and soft. Maybe it was how the air smelled of fresh grasses and sweet summer flowers. Whatever it was, he just liked the outdoors. A lot. So much so that it didn't bother him now to be living off the land, with no set place he exactly referred to as 'home.'

He could sneer at anyone who called his way of life as that of a 'bum.' He wasn't a bum, he was a wanderer. Wandering his way around the land the way he did when he was a young Troll, taking a break from the pressures of being leader to have a little of what he liked to call "Me Time." Only now, after a relaxing stroll in the woods, he wasn't required to return to a pod and have to change a diaper, or listen to any blubbering, or fall victim to a silly prank, or be forced to listen in on some cheesy dating tips. John Dory was free to do as he pleased, how he pleased, and whenever he pleased. And the feeling was great! Now, he really was living large and in charge – in charge of his own life, that was. And with him only having to lead himself, things were so much easier. If John Dory wanted to go mountain climbing, he went mountain climbing no questions asked. If he wanted to take a hike along some new trails, he did just that without a problem. If he wanted to down a whole pack of marshmallows for his dinner, then heck, he'd ensure that the rest of the bag he held in his hands would get finished pronto! Why, he could even chew as loudly or quietly as he wanted to, and nobody would complain. If he accidentally burned a marshmallow in the flames, he wouldn't hear it from anybody (except maybe his belly, growling in disappointment at the loss of a treat).

John Dory hummed, his mind far gone in the delectable flavors that his desserty-dinner was providing him, as well as the natural naturesque sounds that were surrounding him. A simple rustling of leaves or the beating of small insect wings wasn't nearly as exciting as a totally bro-dacious Pop song, but these days the sounds comforted him, especially since he'd taken a bit of a break from the whole performing ordeal. John Dory tried not to think of it much, but sometimes, it couldn't be helped, and he would. The thoughts could linger, or they could come, invade his mind for no more than a few minutes, and then promptly leave.

But he couldn't be relaxed in that knowledge, though. Even if the thought crossed his mind for a minute, it wasn't as if that minute wouldn't be intense. In a way, he saw it like meteorology tech – a forecast only determined the chances of rain in percentage, not the intensity of rain. A 10% chance of rain could be a full-blown thunderstorm or a 100% chance of rain could be a simple drizzle. It was the same when it came to thinking about his old life, as leader of the phenomenal band BroZone. It would hit him like a train sometimes, making him wonder what he was doing there, alone, with just a few token reminders that had been inside the acorn backpack he'd hoisted upon his shoulders right before he bid them goodbye forever. All in all, he tried not to think of it much, but thankfully he had a distraction in the form of the large, bus-like creature that was peering back at him from the other side of the campfire flames with her large, green eyes. Rhonda.

He'd found Rhonda as a caterpup at first, squirming and yelping after having been caught in some vines. John Dory had instantly swept in to help, despite not knowing if the creature would've bitten him, or if there was a larger, more dangerous catermother around. But JD knew he couldn't just leave her there, tied up and humiliated – he knew the feeling all too well from experience, and it wasn't good at all. Rhonda was freed, and she, like him, seemed to have no other companions, and had vouched for following John Dory around. He'd thought it was cute, and was grandly delighted at the prospect of having a pet, something that he'd actually always wanted but was unable to have due to all the other responsibilities he'd had, with handling the band and watching over his younger brothers. Now, there was no need to worry over that, so he kept Rhonda, naming her shortly after the first few days of realizing that the little caterpup was not leaving him be, wagging her stumpy green tail and making chirpy noises that sounded friendly in their nature.