Brodacious! A BroZone Oneshot Collection

Neverglading

A/N: Taking place before TBT; Makes references to my oneshot from Trolls 3.0 titled "Found" (ch 18) :)

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I guess there's a reason they call it the NEVERglade Trail, John Dory thought, exhaustedly taking another step forward and forcing himself to look past the fatigue that plagued his body.

The marshland was not that deep underfoot, only coming up to his ankles, but it sure was thick. One could only go so long taking forcible steps before you got awfully tired out, and before the marsh started to feel like it was taking its grimy hands and holding you in place. But John Dory was not letting it deter him. He refused for it to. He had been the leader of BroZone, and there had been certain traits that a leader needed to have. A key one of those was determination, a strong drive to get done what one strived to get done, and, if it could helped, completing it in the best way possible (or, as John Dory liked to call it, in the most brodacious way possible!).

Come on, JD, he urged himself, you CAN do it! Hauling his knees up, he marched through the boggy trail, ignoring the burn in his muscles. FEEL the burn, he encouraged himself, using the same words he had on Spruce when the Troll had adamantly prepared for every show they'd performed with some workout exercises beforehand. And besides, he continued lecturing, why would I give up now? Just a few yards or so away, he could see the telltale green that indicated a smooth, solid patch of grass. The end of the trail! Knowing his victory was just a hop, skip, and jump away fueled the Troll, and he hauled himself forward some more. Yes! Almost there! Just gotta -

"Rrrwoaw!"

JD gasped at the sudden cry that pierced the air and, upon reflex, took a fighting stance. It was very unexpected, with the only sounds that had accompanied his trek thus far being the bubbling of the bog, a couple of bugs flitting by with a quick ZZZZT!, distant bird calls, and the sound of his own heaving grunts. The sound was foreign among the others, and did not give off the vibe of a creature who was in any way relaxed. And that made the green hair on the back of his neck rise in an unpleasant way. Was he being hunted? Was that the creature's cry of battle, ready to charge at the unsuspecting Troll and splatter what would become his remains across the land?

John Dory shuddered, suddenly feeling cold. Nobody deserved to go out like that!

"RRWOAW!"

He grimaced upon hearing the cry resound again, and not two seconds after that, again. That's when the Troll had to stop and think. For one, he was still standing there, the bottom hems of his white slacks a little muddied, but otherwise well off. If this creature had wanted to attack him, then surely it would have done so already. Or else, why make the ruckus? Any predator intelligent enough in the order of things in the food chain would know to keep quiet and not scare off their prey with any loud sounds. This creature, whatever it was, was not following that basic protocol. Which got JD thinking... perhaps it wasn't hunting. Perhaps it was...

"RRRRWOOOAW!!"

... distressed.

His head whirled around to his far left, in the direction the call had been coming from, somewhere off the bog's marked trail in the swampy woods. He sucked in a deep breath. There was a certain order to things. Just like in his band, for example. He was BroZone's leader (a role that he believed his brothers could have shown him much more appreciation for taking). Spruce was the Heartthrob, Clay the Fun Boy, Floyd the Sensitive One, and Branch the Baby, all with their own reasons for being that way. And he was sure that there was a reason to why this trail was marked, why it didn't veer off to the left where the noises were coming from. What dangers were that way? They were dangers he didn't really have to find out about. But for the sake of the creature, he wanted to. There was a soft spot somewhere in JD for critters, even if Grandma had never let him have one of his own. He still loved playing with Pop Village's pets when time between band rehearsals and keeping his brothers in line permitted. Still, John Dory gazed longingly at the patch of green up ahead, where he could rest his aching feet and sore muscles.