Chapter Text
Day 0: The Earthquake
Hickory and Poppy
Hickory was in the middle of hefting a bundle of boards over his shoulder when the first shakes hit.
He had been helping Pop Village rebuild. He was headed to a construction site where new pods, some in the early stages of framework, were being worked on by the villagers. He learned that this was the second big rebuild in a short period of time, thanks to all the damage from the previously-enemy Bergens. In an effort to make them sturdier this time around, they'd consulted the help from other Genres, and had a unique team of trolls working together.
He knew immediately that these shakes were not the oncoming footsteps of larger creatures, and dropped the boards in his effort to get to Poppy as fast as possible. As he passed confused villagers along the way, he frantically shouted advice.
"Get t' safety! Get under a table, or in a secure pod! Don't stand under anythin' breakable, or windows!"
A deafening crack echoed through the village, as a young tree split up the middle and began to topple. A terrified orange troll-ling stood frozen in its path.
Hickory tore off in the baby's direction, all four legs burning with effort to get there in time. He thanked whomever was listening for his transformation, as he snatched the little one up on the move. They clung tightly to his chest, arms too short to wrap around his neck, as they sped towards their Queen’s last known location.
Cresting a hill, he spotted Poppy shouting, darting around, trying to get everyone to safety as the ground became increasingly less steady.
“Hickory!!”
“Quick! Everyone get under somethin’ sturdy!”
Trolls fled and ducked under various benches, tables, house frames. The cowboy scooped the pink troll up as well, darting under a nearby awning. He pressed the child into Poppy’s arms, tucked them both against the wall, and covered them with as much of his bulk as possible. He folded his arms over his head and neck as the worst convulsion thus far shook the earth around them.
“Close yer eyes an’ mouth-” He warned the two under him. Poppy spared him a wide-eyed glance before obeying and curling around the troll-ling.
A distant part of Hickory’s mind screamed in terror, remembering the many quakes and avalanches he’d grown up through. Dickory wasn’t here to comfort him this time, and it was his duty now to help protect the trolls around him. He held himself together as much as possible, but couldn’t stop his back legs from trembling as the ground rocked and folks screamed.
He wasn’t sure how long the earthquake went on- he logically knew they often only lasted minutes but the ache in his arms and legs made him feel like it had been hours. When the dust began to settle and there had been no more tremors for some time, he began to stiffly unlock himself from his guarding position.
Immediately, he could hear hoarse calls, screams, and panicked sounds around him.
“Poppy. Ye all righ’?”
The pink troll was covered in dirt and shaking. The babe in her arms seemed unharmed, if scared and unsure.
“I- what was- what happened- I don’t-”
“Easy now,” Hickory bent to cup her cheek. “Look at me. We gotta check on everyone.”
He saw the moment his beloved Poppy got locked away and only the Pop Queen was present. There would be time to cry later.
“They were righ’ in a fallin’ tree’s path,” he explained, jerking his head toward the baby. “I don’ know who their folks are.”
“Right, first thing, start checking on everyone. Second, find parents,” She nodded, swallowing. “Who’re your parents, little one?”
The young troll was silent, eyes wide. Poppy cradled them close, wiping dust off their face as best as possible.
“They might be in shock. Earthquakes are scary stuff,” Hickory lifted a fallen part of the awning, giving them more room to get out. The valley around them was foggy with debris. “Here, youngin’. Perch here an’ holler when ye see yer folks.”
He patted the dip in his lower spine, where Poppy placed them gently. They immediately grabbed fistfuls of his leather vest. He gave Poppy a hand over broken ground as they made their way towards other trolls. Many were lightly injured, scratches and scrapes. A few people had gotten hit by falling debris, sporting bruised bodies and some, bruised skulls. Poppy set up a chain of helpers immediately, triaging the worst injuries to a mostly untouched area for Dr. Plum to get to as quickly as possible. They checked in with every villager they passed, sending any injured to the clearing and helped dig any they could find out.
It was slow work. No one seemed to know who the troll-ing was related to and they were still too scared to talk. Along the way, Hickory did his best to explain.
“Tha’ was an earthquake. Happened sometimes, where I’m from. The ground shakes an’ rolls, it kin destroy homes an’ buildings.”
“That was normal for you??”
“Eh?” Hickory shrugged, climbing over fallen branches. “We had earthquakes an’ avalanches. Seemed normal fer us.”
By the time they had gotten to most of the village, the dust had settled and gave way to a cloudy afternoon. Poppy seemed keyed up, holding herself stiffly and remaining mostly quiet.
“Knock on wood, Miss Poppy, nobodys hurt bad, an’ we ain’t lost anybody.”
They finished clearing a nearby blue pod, the occupants dirty but unharmed, when they heard a troll’s ragged cry.
“Apricot! Apricot?” their voice broke halfway through. The troll-ling on Hickory’s back stirred for the first time since being placed safely on him.
“Poppy-!” Hickory pointed across the clearing, where a pair of Autumn-colored trolls were frantically searching. The pink queen shouted to get their attention, and they all ran to each other. The moment the pair saw the babe, their cries turned from desperate to relieved. Hickory explained what happened as they squeezed the babe between them. When he was done, he got added to the fierce hug; no one’s eyes were dry. The centaur gently ruffled the child’s hair before they made their goodbyes, heading to the next folks that needed help.
It was late evening when Poppy and Hickory were taking a break, sipping cool water and trying to force their stomachs to accept some food when they realized- no one had seen Branch.
Hickory only got there first due to his extra legs. Poppy was right behind him, but they were too late to do anything; the Bunker had suffered damage. Hickory could only hope that Branch's fortified bunker withstood the initial quake.
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Day 0: Buried Alive
Branch
The lights flickering down the hall from him was his only warning before the ground around Branch heaved. He jolted out of his chair in the library, heading out the door when the first bookshelf fell onto him. It caught on another tumbled shelf, throwing its contents to the floor and hitting the blue-grey troll. He tried covering his head as best as possible as he was pelted with heavy volumes. He tried to pull himself out from under the collapsed shelves when a long, tall shelf fell directly across his freed leg. There was a wet crunch, and suddenly excruciating pain. Branch would have screamed if he’d had air to do so; instead he fought simply to breathe.
He didn’t remember how long the quake went, or how long he remained trapped under the bookshelves. At some point, the lights in the room glowing dimly, he’d wrenched himself out and remained prone on the floor. He wasn’t able to see much in the dust and gloom, but his leg was a throbbing line of fire and he couldn’t use it. He crawled forward down the hallway, each bit jostling his leg, making his vision white out.
The rooms he passed seemed ruined, supplies damaged and furniture destroyed. He prayed his medical supplies had survived at least.
By the time he made it to the room with the first aid supplies, his exhales were tiny screams of pain. He had tried not to look til now, and nearly passed out seeing the unnatural angle his leg bent. Branch cried in relief to discover that the supplies had been jostled and upended, but mostly unharmed. Gritting his teeth, he began preparing to set his broken leg as best as possible.
With shaking hands, he gathered rods, spools of flat cotton rope, and various straps he’d used to wrap around open bags.
This is going to be the worst part, he thought. But you can’t go for help ‘til this leg is splinted.
He tied a loop in one of the ropes around the ankle of his injured leg. Once good and snug, he threw the rope over the door handle, grabbing it when it swung back towards him on the floor. He blanched while pulling the rope, elevating his leg. He knew he had to re-align the bone before splinting, but-
As he pulled, he felt increasingly sick, black spots filling his vision. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and gave a harsh yank. He felt the bone-on-bone grind and then with a nauseating pop, lined the broken pieces back. He barely had the ability to tie the rope off in that exact position before turning and retching beside himself.
Sobbing through the entire process, he managed to splint the leg with the rods and straps. Once he was certain the leg was immobile, he untied the rope and carefully let his leg back down. He wept in agony on the floor, completely spent. The Pop Troll felt his adrenaline begin to wear off, shock creeping in. He fought unconsciousness, trying to get to the nearest exit before the aftershocks came.