"Why does Stan have us hanging these signs?" Wendy asked, skeptically glaring at the bright yellow arrow in her hand. "It's not like the tourists come back here."

"I have no idea," Dipper said, carefully averting his gaze. He quickly attached it to a tree. They had been sentenced to marking trails in the mountainous woods behind the Shack. Ordinarily, he would have been frustrated with the pointless task. Today, however, he was working with Wendy, his friend and crush. "But it could be worse." He risked a quick smile. "At least I get to hang out with my best friend."

"Dude," Wendy laughed. "That's pushing it a bit. I'm sure you've got better friends back home." She hung another sign along the path.

Dipper found himself fighting the flush that rose on his face. He bit his tongue before answering. "Not really. I don't have many friends back home except Mabel. And she's my sister, so she doesn't count."

"No friends?" Wendy's eyebrows furrowed. "I can't believe that, man. You're chill. You have to have at least ONE friend."
"N...No," he admitted, studying the ground intently. "The kids back home think I'm a nerd and a dork. Mabel's the only one who tolerates me."

"You ARE a dork," Wendy grinned, punching him in the arm. He flinched but smiled. "And a nerd. But I don't see what's wrong with that. That's just who you are, man." She went back to hanging signs. While she worked, she thought about what the boy had said. "And you don't ditch me like the 'cool' people." Her fingers twitched in air quotes.
Now it was Dipper's turn to be incredulous. "People ditch you?"

"Oh yeah," she said with a slight frown. "All the time. They leave when someone better comes along. Or when someone better texts them, in Tambry's case." Dipper's eyes went wide.

"You're kidding. Why would anyone ditch you? You're awesome."

Wendy shrugged. "Dunno. Their choice, though, even if it stinks."

"Well, I wouldn't ditch you unless it was an emergency," Dipper muttered.

"Thanks," she said, her face softening into a sincere smile. He hadn't meant to say it aloud, and he panicked for a moment before realizing she hadn't minded the comment. He went back to posting the arrows, humming to himself.

They worked for about fifteen minutes in silence. Dipper didn't speak because he was scared he would embarrass himself. Wendy didn't speak because she was thinking. It didn't surprise her that Dipper wasn't popular back in the big city. He was too analytical and too mature to easily befriend kids his age. What baffled her was that he didn't have any friends besides Mabel. Yeah, he was a dork, but he wasn't incapable of social interaction. He was awkward, but not that awkward.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Dipper's tense voice. "Wendy, do you hear that?" Did she hear what? She stopped to listen. There was a growing rumble in the distance. It sounded almost like a truck. She glanced over at Dipper just as his eyes widened in realization. "RUN!" he screamed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back down the trail to the Shack.

"Wait, what?!" Wendy didn't pull away or stop running, but she insisted that Dipper explain. "Dipper, what is it?!" The sound grew even louder. Now it was more like the roar of a passing train.

"Avalanche!" he gasped.

"But it's the middle of summer!"

"Just run!" he insisted. They were both breathing with difficulty. Dipper's lungs burned as he inhaled. It had to be an avalanche. That was the only explanation for the noise. But Wendy was right, he thought. An avalanche in summer? He chanced a look over his shoulder. Sure enough, a wall of white was closing in. Snow tumbled in shifting shapes that reminded Dipper of clouds. Clouds that could bury them alive.

The avalanche was moving too quickly. Soon it would catch up and engulf them. He desperately cast about for a way to survive. There! There was a ledge to one side of the path! If they sheltered beneath it, they might be able to avoid the worst of it and create an air pocket so they could breathe. "See that ridge?"

"Yeah?" She shouted over the roar of the oncoming snow.

"We have to get underneath it!" He didn't wait for her reply but forced himself to go faster. As they neared the gap, he let go of her wrist and dived underneath. Dipper expected Wendy to slide in next to him, but instead he heard a dull "thud", and saw Wendy's head connect with the shelf of rock above him. Her foot had gotten caught in a sinkhole. She had tripped and collided with the ridge!

"Wendy!" he called. She didn't move. He reached for her wrists again and, mustering all of the strength in his noodle arms, dragged her underneath the shelf. He tried to swallow his worry. Before he could check and see if she was okay, he had to handle the avalanche.

Dipper squirmed out of his blue vest and moved towards the open end of the ridge. He braced one side of his body against the stone ceiling and the other against the ground. Hopefully, the snow would glance off of his back instead of working its way into the cavern. As the rumble grew to an utterly deafening roar, he looked back at Wendy again. She still wasn't moving, but he thought he could see the faint motion of her breathing.

The snow came. The snow came in a wave stronger than the ocean. The cold burned through his t-shirt and into his skin, until it hurt so much it was numb. Dipper shut his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. His ears were ringing from the sound of the snow. It seemed to go on forever. Until suddenly, it was over.

Dipper slowly blinked. He saw pitch black, even when his eyes were open. "Am I dead?" he said aloud, but even as he spoke, he could feel grass and dirt in his left hand, and solid rock against his right arm. No. He pried himself away from the wall of snow at his back, crawling towards the back of the ledge-cavern. The snow was so tightly packed that, even when he moved, it stayed together. Dipper's hand brushed against something soft - his vest! Hastily yanking off his sopping wet t-shirt, he slid the vest on and zipped it up the front. His back was completely numb. He hoped desperately he wasn't frostbitten or bleeding.

"Wendy," he called again. Still no answer. He reached out until he caught hold of her wrist again. He dropped it immediately with a shout of surprise. She was burning up! Edging around towards her head, he put a hand on her face. Her forehead was so hot, it hurt. "Concussion," he said, his voice cracked in panic. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get to a hospital! He struggled back to the wall of snow.

Now that his body heat was building up inside his vest, his back began to prickle painfully. He set his jaw. The only way out of this mess was to dig. He began burrowing into the snow with his bare hands, pushing it off to the side so it wouldn't get Wendy wet. Panting with effort, he managed to punch a hole through to the surface. A tiny glint of sunlight shone into the cavern. He leaned back to rest, glad for the progress. However, now that he could see, he was even more worried about Wendy. She was still and unresponsive. He lightly touched her arm. Still feverish.

Spotting his wet shirt, he had a sudden idea. He gathered some of the snow and wrapped it securely in the fabric. He set it on her head to cool her fever. As he rested, he began to shiver violently. The cold was seeping into his wet frame. He dragged himself over to the opening, hoping to claw away the last of the snow before he succumbed to the freezing temperature.

"I can...Get through," he muttered to himself. Just a bit more to go! But as he reached to push the last few inches away, portions of the wall began to collapse inward. If he kept digging and climbed out, the snow could bury Wendy! Despair settled into Dipper's stomach. "I won't leave her," he said, as if ordering himself to obey. He moved to sit next to her, trying to keep his shivering under control. His eyelids grew heavier. He let them close. After all of his work, surely it would be okay to go to sleep?