Wirt lurched upright and coughed. He shuddered with every motion as water burst from his nose and mouth. The forest was warm, the sun almost hostile on his back, in stark contrast with the cold he had endured moments before. He gripped the leaves below him and pulled forward onto his hands and knees, trying to get those last drops of water out of his throat. Water dribbled down his chin, meeting the thirsty earth and disappearing. He didn't have time to catch his breath before he remembered his brother.

"Greg!" he cried. He looked around frantically, finally noticing his surroundings. The forest? Still?

"Wirt Wirt!" Greg came hobbling out from the foliage, arms raised in celebration. His frog peeked out of his front pocket. "You did it! You stopped the Beast! I'm not a tree!" He jumped into Wirt's arms.

Wirt hugged Greg to his chest. His knees suddenly felt weak, and he sank to the ground. Greg was still warm, his skin unmarked by the adlewood tendrils. He lifted his face so he could see him. How were his eyes still so bright? Wirt shook his head.

"Greg, I'm sorry."

"Don't get all sappy now!" a familiar voice crowed from behind. Wirt turned to see a girl brushing leaves off her periwinkle dress. Her violently red hair was twisted out of her face. Wirt blinked.

"Beatrice? You're-"

"A pretty lady!" Greg finished for Wirt, scrambling out of his lap.

"Eww, don't say that!" she wrinkled her nose over a smile. Then she snatched Greg into her arms and spun in a wild, joyful circle. "You made it, little frog man!"

"Did you see Wirt? He was great!" Greg wiggled to face his brother. Wirt was getting shakily to his feet. "He helped me catch Jason Funderberker, he fell on a gorilla, and now he smashed the Beast!" Greg stomped the leaves and giggled.

Wirt rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, really, the woodsman stopped the beast. I just, you know,"

"Oh shut up," Beatrice interjected. Right, Beatrice. Who was now standing with her arms folded and her mouth twisted into a smirk. The smirk slowly spread into a full-fledged grin and it was Wirt's turn to spin. She ran forward and he grabbed her incoming hands and leaned into a blur of green and yellow and flying red hair. The only sounds in that moment were the leaves rustling and three voices free with laughter. Until Wirt slipped on the leaves and they all fell down. Greg had somehow popped into the middle of their spin, so he ended up sprawled over Wirt's legs. He stood up first.

"Where are we, anyways? This doesn't feel cold enough for Halloween." He put his hands on his hips and studied the trees above. Wirt and Beatrice followed his gaze.

"I don't know," Wirt admitted. He slowly rose. "This doesn't make any sense, we're supposed to go home, right? The Beast is gone, we- and why are you even here, Beatrice? You're from like, a totally different time, right?"

"I don't remember anyone wearing teapots on their heads in my time, so you may be right." She was cautious in her snark, sensing Wirt's onset of panic.

"We have to, we, we have to-"

"Wirt, breathe. We'll figure this all out. At least it's bright and warm now. It was hard to fly in the snow." She remembered her legs and snorted at herself.

"That's right!" Greg added. "Jason Funderberker can lead the way!" He set his frog on the ground. "Onward!" he called, and the frog indeed hopped forward.

Beatrice followed Greg and Wirt fell in step beside her.

"Let's just figure out what year it is." Beatrice suggested. "And where we are. Then, we can find a way home."

Wirt pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. "Okay, yeah, okay." His eyes were locked on Greg, who was marching along, still cheerful as ever. Wirt kept checking for marks from the Adlewood, some kind of symptom of frostbite, any sign of injury, but Greg was dauntless.

He looked at Beatrice. His voice was quiet. "How is he okay after all that?"

She shrugged, keeping her eyes down. "Little ones are supposed to be durable."

"Why do you get to drive?" Dipper huffed, shifting the bundle of signs in his arms. The "signs" were actually just pieces of firewood nailed to popsicle sticks from the Mystery Shack's garbage can. They were very splintering and very sticky. Phrases like "Beware!" and "Death Awaits!" were splattered on the wood, half in red paint and half in glitter glue. Mabel and Stan had collaborated on these.

"Because I'm getting my license a whole 5 minutes earlier than you. I gotta practice." Mabel stopped the golf cart abruptly, sending Dipper and the signs lurching forward. "Put one right there!" she pointed to the side of the road.

Dipper gathered the signs and got out of the cart, laughing.

"Please," He stuck a sign reading TURN BACK! into the dirt. "I've got superior hand-eye coordination. How's that?"

"Hmm," Mabel considered the sign regally from her throne of the driver's seat. "A little to the left."

Dipper groaned, unearthed the sign, and placed it again. "There?"

"A little to the right?"

He kicked it in the proper direction.

"Perfect! Let's go!"

Dipper adjusted his hat and rushed back to the cart. Just as he was about to get in, it jumped forward.

"Mabel! Quit it!"

"Someone with superior hand-eye coordination would have anticipated such a move!"

Dipper glared and tried to jump in the golf cart again.

"Ha! You missed again! I'm too quick!" Mabel made racecar noises and the cart spun a tight circle around Dipper, sending a cloud of dust his way.

"Mabel! Quit it!" he coughed

The golf cart was still and Dipper got in. He pulled the bill of his hat down to cover his forehead better.

"Aww, come on, stupid, don't be such a party pooper. Are you having growing pains again?"

He gave a noncommittal grunt and shifted positions to face away from his sister.

They drove in silence for a moment. The forest would seem peaceful if they didn't already know too much about it. A drive through the forest seemed more like a journey out to sea now. Peace on the surface, but unknowable turmoil beneath.

"You know the real reason Stan sent us out here, right?" Dipper broke in. Mabel adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. The cart slowed down just a touch.

"Yeah."

"What do you think they're talking about?"

There was a pause. Dipper watched the trees fly by.

"They're probably realizing how dumb they're being and being best friends again," Mabel decided. She sat up straighter and smiled at the road, noticeably pressing the gas pedal harder.

Dipper could have corrected her, but he didn't. There was no way Stan and Ford had time for familial stuff with the portal in it's condition. He itched to leave the sign posting to Mabel and haul back to the Mystery shack, but his protective nature got the better of him. The forest felt electric today. Waiting to give a shock.