Chapter Text
TW: panic attacks, canon typical sentient creatures getting eaten, misconceptions
He could hear Chef’s voice. He couldn’t make out what she was saying. He didn’t want to. He could hear her triumph, her
glee
. His stomach turned and twisted.
You did this.
He covered his ears. Focused on his breaths. He was breathing. He was alive.
Laughter trickled in through his fingers. Cheering and music, celebration. Creek felt like throwing up. There was only one way Bergens could be happy.
He hiccuped. A sick smile plastered on his face as he curled up tighter in the rancid smelling Fanny pack. He was crying.
You did this.
Everyone he knew was certainly dead. A sudden motion slammed him against the zipper. She would let him out soon right? He would be free right? He could go home right?
No one would be there. Weightlessness hit him. Something was wrong.
You did this.
He clawed at the zipper, frantic. The fabric was closing in around him- it had to be he couldn’t breath. Light. Wind. The zipper opened. He broke free just in time to see Chef’s terror, just in time to see a great maw open below them.
You did this. No, no, n o, nO, NO.
Panic overwhelmed him. His tail bushed out as he leapt off the Bergen. His claws, dulled and neatly filed, dug into soft squishy flesh of what had to be the creature’s tonsil. He didn’t get a glimpse of the sky before the mouth closed. Sealing him in darkness.
I did this.
Creek didn’t know how long he clung there. His arms were shaky from the strain, his vision blurry from tears and weariness. Still he hung on. He closed his eyes. Trying to breathe. Meditate. Mediation was safe.
He held on until Chef stopped screaming. Until his already weak focus was shot beyond the burning in his limbs.
Then.
The thing moved . Creek scrambled to hang on, the tonsil swung, slamming him against the thing’s throat. Then with a great gust. He was flung off….. and out of the great beast’s mouth.
He scrambled away on wobbly limbs. A sneeze had saved him.
He gasped for air under the safety of a bramble,
I did it. I… I survived.
His body ached worse than it ever had. He was shaking from hair to tail. But he was breathing. He was alive.
Creek sobbed. Finally, it was over .
<><><>
“CREEK!” Poppy’s Panicked voice cut through the ringing in his ears she was being lifted away- someone was laughing.
“Poppy?” He staggered back. Watching as time seemed to slow, tears welled in her eyes as she reached for him.
“Creek, help me!! Please !” she sobbed. Crying out as the hand gripped her. The world swam before him, and she was in a cage. He ran to her.
“Poppy!!” He called. Reaching through the bars, but she stepped away from him, hurt in her eyes.
“...what?” She breathed, looking at him like she didn't know who he was.
“Poppy, I'll get you out, j-just hang on!”
“How could you?” She whispered. And Creek froze. Tears, big angry ones, spilled over her cheeks as she sobed. “HOW COULD YOU?!”
He saw his own reflection staring back at him from her eyes. His mouth curved into a smug grin, his eyebrows tilted in a mockery of sympathy. Creek hit the floor, his heart beating wildly. That wasn't him. THAT WASN'T HIM.
But it was. It had been.
Then he was flying. And he saw teeth and hot sauce flooded his mouth-
Creek woke up soundlessly. Shaking from more than just the cold. The bramble had kept him safe from predators, and a quick glance showed the beast that had eaten chef was still soundly asleep.
He got to his feet quietly. I..
I can go home. I want to go home. He took a step, then another then froze. Home… home was…. Home was gone. Wasn't it? He had watched as bergens had ripped down pods, watched as his friends, his family, his village, had been scooped up into nets and satchels. They had left his pod. But….
No one would ever be there again. No one would welcome him home. No one would attend his yoga classes, or celebrate birthdays, or plan festivals.
He had done this. He was alive, but now. He was utterly alone. Creek fell to his knees. Sobbing, trying to breathe, to meditate, to… to… what was the point?
He was the last troll alive.