"Mabel!"
Hearing the shriek was enough to make Stanford almost as panicked as his grandnephew had become at the sight of his sister on the ground, a dark stain growing on her sweater. Ford rushed to her side to assess the damage and, upon lifting her sweater and tee shirt just above her navel, saw four steady streams of blood pouring out from where the creature's claws had slashed her open.
With no bandages or first aid equipment on hand, he tore a sleeve from his jacket and wrapped it around the area as tightly as possible, all while trying and failing to keep a level head. Behind him, Dipper frantically paced back and forth, asking was anything broken, was she bleeding anywhere else, was she gonna be okay.
"We have to get her to a hospital," Ford replied, the questions not having registered with him in his hysteria. He lifted Mabel up to his shoulder and sprinted toward the Mystery Shack, Dipper following suit. His niece, limp in his arms, bounced up and down against him with every step, and the only thought aside from the worst possible outcomes of her condition that he could form was how he had known how dangerous this town could get and he'd been irresponsible enough to take them into the forest and now Mabel was suffering the consequences. If he still had the right to berate Stanley over his carelessness from the previous summer, he'd certainly lost it now.
By the time they reached the Shack, Mabel's makeshift bandage was almost soaked through and her face had begun to lose its color. Ford set her down on the couch on the back porch and told Dipper to apply pressure while he ran inside to get Stan's car keys.
"Hey, Six- whoa, what's the matter with you?" Stan inquired from his old recliner in the TV room, Soos and Wendy looking up from their card game and Melody up from her book at the sound of Ford's heavy breathing.
"I need to take your car."
"What? Why?"
"Mabel has to get to the emergency room; she could be bleeding out." He spotted the keys on a hook on the wall and looped the key ring from his index finger, turning back toward the door with no further explanation.
Stan still didn't seem to comprehend the severity of the situation.
"Whoa, whoa, wait - if she's just bleeding why's she gotta go to the hospital? We've got Band-Aids here, don't we?"
Melody was the one to chime in with, "Mr. Pines, do you know what 'bleeding out' means?"
Judging by the look on his face as soon as she'd asked, she figured she didn't have to explain.
"I thought they were past this sorta thing," Stan grumbled, hunched over in an okay-feeling but hideous waiting room chair, the Pitt Cola in his fist opened but hardly touched.
"They should be," Ford sighed in agreement, the closest he'd come so far to an admission of guilt, although everyone else must have known already that there was an admission to be made.
Dipper sat in a similarly ugly chair across from his grunkles, hiding most of his face but still visibly anxious. Soos, Melody, and Wendy tried to comfort him, but they clearly weren't dealing with it so well themselves. Wendy kept staring down at the floor, Melody's leg was bouncing, and Soos was one or two gurney sightings away from openly weeping.
By the time the news came that Mabel's wounds weren't infected and that a full recovery was expected after she received a blood transfusion and possibly surgery (they would keep her for two nights to see if she needed it), everyone in the Pines party had fallen completely silent. No one had really expected the worst, but the thought of the most lively and loving person they knew being knocked out and confined to a hospital bed didn't make for any good conversation aside from "It's gonna be okay" and "Seriously, what is taking them so long in there?"
Under any other circumstances, the sight of Ford sitting stone-faced holding a purple rhinoceros would've been more humorous. Stan might've wanted to see it for himself; maybe take a picture. Dipper might've empathized with the frustration. Mabel might've been charmed by it and, as it happened, she would be the only other Pines to even know that Ford was at the hospital that time. Visiting hours had started, of course, but she was still asleep, the covers bunched up by her smiling face, half of which was buried in the pillow. Just as soon as Ford got up out of his chair in the corner of her room to leave the stuffed animal and return the next day once her procedure was finished, her eyes opened just about halfway and she sat up, forgetting for a second about her injury and groaning from the stress she'd put on it. The old man winced at the sound, but tried to put on a warmer face when she saw him.
"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel almost shouted, baring her braces in a wide grin before glancing around the room for the others. "Where's Dipper and Stan?"
"Oh, they'll be here later. I just wanted to, um…" He picked up the doll from his chair and held it out to his niece. "Bring you this."
Mabel took it from his hands and squeezed it, thanking him happily.
"Yes, well, I didn't know if you had a favorite, or…"
"That's okay! I love Avery."
Ford stifled a laugh, "Avery?"
"Yeah. You know, like 'ivory'. Like their tusky-horn thingies."
He didn't have the heart to correct her.
"How's Waddles doing?" she asked, with the same concern as if the pig was the one who was injured.
"He's just fine," Ford assured. "He got nervous when you didn't come home last night, but your brother got him to sleep."
That morning, when he'd gone to get Avery from Mabel's bed, he'd seen Waddles fast asleep and snuggled up against Mabel's sleep shirt and a few of her sweaters rolled up into a pile on her bed. After a moment of allowing himself to be endeared by it, his face fell, and Mabel's did the same when she noticed.
"You okay, Grunkle Ford?"
"I'm so sorry, Mabel," he sighed. She looked perplexed, as if he'd been apologizing for bringing Avery. "I was supposed to be responsible for your and your brother's safety, and I failed. It's my fault you're here." He sat back down and hunched over, staring at the brilliant white floor tiles.
"Psh. No it's not," Mabel insisted. "It was an accident. Plus, me and Dipper ran into monsters all the time last year, remember?"
"Well, yes, but -" he stopped himself, realizing that he couldn't make a case for his shame to Mabel Pines. She would surely deny any attempt. "I guess you're right," he smiled, looking back up at her. She still seemed upset.
"Grunkle Ford, have you had surgery before?"
He knocked on his head a few times in response, making a hollow, metallic echo.
Mabel chuckled just a little, "Oh, right."
"Are you nervous?" Ford asked.
"Kinda…"
"Don't be," he comforted her. "It's daunting to think of them cutting you open, yes, but they sew you right back up!"
He could tell from her expression that he hadn't made her feel much better.
"But - but you don't feel any of it!" he clarified. "You're asleep the whole time. Trust me, there's nothing to be scared of." He patted her softly on the head and saw her smile return.
"I mean, I guess I've survived worse," she reasoned, still a little uneasy.
"Right," Ford tried to keep smiling to prevent her from using even more of her energy to convince him of his innocence. "Well, I should head home now; let you have your rest. I'll see you tomorrow, pumpkin."
He ruffled her hair on his way out of the room, heard her giggle, and looked over his shoulder to see her snuggle up to her misnamed toy and close her eyes again, content in having talked some sense into him. He resolved to leave it that way. It didn't matter now whether or not she'd truly succeeded.