1987, November 14

Five years. Five, long, hard, sleepless nights, years. That was about half the time he was kicked out of home and forced to live homeless on the street filled with danger around every corner of every day he spent traveling out on his own.

Five years. Five, lonely, guilt ridden, nightmare waking hours, years. A cold gust of wind sent shivers down Stan's back, reminding him of his current task at hand. With an nonchalant huff, Stan tugged his scarf tighter around his face, trudging deeper into the forest.

Gravity Falls was, from all that he's learned from his brother's research and seen firsthand of this place, entirely not a safe place. With monsters lurking in the shadows and creatures big as half the size of a skyscraper, it was a wonder how Ford had manage to survive this place for so long without him. Of course he had a few run ins himself that nearly landed him in death's grip, but he always, somehow, managed to escape and live to see another day.

Another day. Another week. Another month. Another year. Which all added up to five, whole, undeniably aggravating, pain inflicting, headache infesting, long years since Ford had been lost inside of the portal.

A incident that Stan himself had caused.

Guilt stabbed him deep in the heart. Just thinking about the horrible incident kept him up all night sick to the stomach. The one moment his brother needed him, and he had to go ruin it all by being immature and selfish. And what did that cost him?

His brother.

A soft quiet sigh left his lips, turning into a semitransparent small puff cloud that drifted away into nothing in the cold air breeze. No matter what his mistakes were, Ford was always the price of it. Why? Did the universe have something against him so much that his twin had to suffer the cost of his misdeeds?

Were his actions that treacherous and evil that it was enough to cause harm to the ones he held dear to him? Was he some sort of mistake? Like how Pa used to call him behind his back?

Stan stopped in his tracks. Another raw emotion stabbed at him, this time deep within his soul.

Pa.

The one man that Stan had tried endlessly to gain approval of, only to be thrown out in the end for his one mistake that cost his whole family everything.

Just another slip up mess after the other.

All leaving behind permanent results of his actions.

Anger burned within him, continuing on with his previous task at hand. This mistake, however, was not going to be permanent. He was going to fix his mistake. He was going to rescue Ford from the portal, no matter how hard or how long it was going to be. And this time, he would make sure that everything would be set right.

There were a few set problems in his path that was making it difficult to complete his task so easily however. The first being the portal, the main big problem of the whole mess. The portal was in disarray, broken in so many places that Stan wasn't sure how long it would take him to find out how to fix it properly. The second was another big concern. Finding out how to work it and bring Ford home.

Stan knew he wasn't the smart type of guy. That was always more Ford's field of strong point. But he was smart enough to know that doing this required some knowledge on finding out how to work the portal without some insight of knowing how to operate it right.

Going about this in the dark blindly would cost him everything, so this was the one thing he needed to be careful with. But to do that, Stan needed all three journals to work the machine properly. Which would explain why he was out in the woods at night with a lantern in one hand and a bat strapped to his back, searching for the missing two books.

It was almost suicide. Going into the forest at night was ten times as worse than going in the day. In fact, going into the woods at any time, night or day, was a one way ticket to death's door. But if Stan hadn't been on the road most of his life for ten years filled with hardships and life threatening situations, then maybe he would have considered not going so deep far in the thick forest.

Maybe.

After all, Stan wasn't one to follow basic rules of keeping a distance from danger. If he did, where would all the fun and excitement be? No work without a bit of sweat and pain.

Still, he kept an eye out for any sort of danger. One could never be too careful in these woods walking carefree and unaware of things that would make you its next meal. And he wasn't going to take the risk of coming unarmed and unprepared.

CRACK.

Stan jumped, pulling out his bat on instinct and pointing in the direction the sound came from. A moment later, he slowly relaxed as a small white rabbit hopped out from the bush, staring at him a moment with a twitchy nose, and then bounded away into the dark night.

"Heh. Jus' a bunny." Stan chuckled. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but being here in the forest made him jumpy and uneasy. With all the unseen dangers around, there was no telling what was out there.

"Alright, Stan. 'Nough games. Ya already wasted time workin' on the portal all day, an' that got ya nowhere."

Stan huffed, turning back on his uncharted trail ahead of him. If someone was to say that Stan was looking around aimlessly, then they would be wrong on some degree. Stan had made sure that he didn't search the same area of the woods each time he went in. He already had a decent map in his head for visiting some area of the woods so many times, and had recognition for landmarks in the places.

Tonight however, Stan decided to take a different part of the forest this time, hoping to find any clues to finding his brother's journals. So far, he had no luck in finding anything other than few false scares from some harmless animals, the night so far had been rather peaceful and quiet.

In fact, it was too quiet.

Stan stopped in his tracks, suddenly noticing how quiet the forest was. As long as he remembered, the forest was never quiet, even at night when creatures of the nocturnal were at their most active. But now that he thought of it, he hadn't run into any of them. Not even those pesky gnomes made any appearances since he stepped into the forest.

No howl from a beast, no trees bending by the sheer size and weight of a passing by monster, no hungry creature hunting in the shadows of the dark, not even a small hoot from an owl. Nothing.

The forest that Stan grown used to over the past years had gone still, and silent. So silent, that not even the wind was stirring and the trees were still as stone. Not even the crickets were making a single note this night. And the air, filled with the aura of strangeness and something one could not explain, was gone. Now it only felt cold and dead, colder than Stan had ever felt, though, it didn't feel cold.

No, Stan was quite warm in fact. He made sure to put on some decent thick clothes when he went out as the days were slowly turning into winter. And yet, while his body was warm and snug safe in his clothing, he still felt a deep utter chill running through him.

This was not normal, even by Gravity Falls standard level of 'normal'.

There was something wrong, something that made the whole forest go quiet and dead, something that not even the monsters themselves dare show their faces or their presence.

It was calm and quiet enough to put Stan on edge. He could say that he experienced this same feeling before, a 'calm before the storm' to put it lightly, though this one had a more… intense sort of feeling in the air.

Whatever the reason for the stillness and unease feeling, Stan was a stubborn man. This feeling, no matter how much his conscious screamed at him to turn back, was not going to make him give up on his quest now. He would push on, determine to see his quest to bring his brother back to the very end. No matter what it cost him.

With that set in mind, Stan continued on, taking spirited determined steps.

Which then fled with sheer cold terror taking hold, stopping Stan dead in his tracks as a loud, moaning, pained howl rippled in the air, shattering the still and silence.

The howl only lasted for a brief moment, but it almost felt like it was meant for an eternity. It lasted for an estimate of one or two minutes before fading to a stop. Broken and weary with pain were laced in the notes, echoing into the deep forest and beyond.

Stan knew that sound. It was a sound he heard many times, both from humans and animals alike.

The sound of death of a dying person.

Ice was in his veins, his heart pounding against his chest like a hammer, the air was refusing to leave his lungs, and his body felt like it had been petrified and turned to stone.

No point in Stan's life had he ever felt the need to flee. None had ever made him feel so weak and helpless, not even compared to the time his father had thrown him out of the house. This was something that drove in deeper and further into Stan than anything than ever before.

So badly did he want to turn around, run straight back to the shack, locking all the doors and windows and hope that morning would come soon and forget about this whole nightmare altogether.

And he was about to do so when another howl sounded, only this one didn't last as long as it suddenly was cut off short.

… and it was then that Stan caught another aspect of the howl. One that made him pause and ignore his gut that was telling him to flee. He had heard many tones of that death rattle before, but this one, this one despite its animalistic gurgle sounded higher and younger. Much younger.

And close by.

Stan didn't know it, but his body moved on its own, heading off toward to where he assumed the howling had come from. Almost as if he was in a trance by the howling, the way it sounded and how young… Stan had never heard anything so young sound like that before.

They shouldn't be making a sound like that.

Stepping through some thick bushes, Stan found the source of the wails. Right before him some distance away was a river, a big one at that. Its width was at least ten feet, and the length was far beyond Stan's lane of sight. But Stan was more focused on what was in the water.

A tree, long dead after toppling over, poked out from the rivers waves. Its branches were bare and smooth, all its leaves and bark having been plucked away by the currents tide and changing of seasons. But something clung on to the bare branches. Something that clutched onto the tree's extended limbs to keep from being pulled away by the river's strong pull and was growing weaker as the time passed.

To Stan, it looked like an oversized brown puffball, and he almost thought it was just that when it suddenly let out a low, weak cry. It wasn't as loud as its previous cries, but Stan was sure that this was indeed the creature making the howling noises.

And it broke his heart.

Stan felt pity from the small creature that he had just found, his stomach felt greatly uneasy by the creature's wails of pain, sounding so young and frail. No young being, no matter what or who they were, should sound like that. Ever.

Setting his only light source down, realizing that his bat was gone but dismissed it, Stan made his way over to the edge of the river. There was no real way for him to just simply reach out and grab the small creature, or any of the tree's dead branches, so pulling it out was not going to happen. Going back for any supplies was futile. Who knew how long the small thing could hold onto its life before the last of its strength was gone before Stan could return. No, the only real rational and quick way to do this was to get in and get a little wet.

Jumping in, the sudden shock of cold water seeping into his clothes sent Stan into a shivering fit. He had forgotten that winter was coming, and already the water was as cold as ice. Bracing himself, Stan slowly but surely made his way over to the tree. The water only reached up to his waist, yet Stan felt he was totally submerged under the waves, the cold seeping deep inside of him. Wouldn't be long till his legs were numb.

What's more was that the river's current was strong. Not enough to to bring down a full grown adult but it would surely sweep away any young child that came in here. If the cold didn't kill them than drowning would.

Finally reaching the tree, Stan carefully plucked the tiny creature, which now up close was a bit size bigger than a basketball, noting how limp it was as he took it into his arms, but not fully worrying as he could still feel the small furry lump shivering. Both of those were good and bad signs.

"Don't worry. Yer safe now." Stan didn't know what compelled him to speak in such a soft whispering tone, but it must have made it more soothing for the creature as it snuggled close to Stan's chest, no doubt seeking warmth there.

Well, it was a good start to recovery at least. Turning around, Stan hastily made it back to the river bank, somehow finding a way to get out of the cold water without setting the small thing he now carried in his arms down. Though now out of cold water, they both were now attacked by the cold air, not helping in the current situation.

Stan was huffing out clouds once he got to his lantern. Lifting the lantern up close, Stan looked down at the small creature he had just rescued. The first thing Stan noticed was the dirty and grim covering the small thing. Second being was that whatever this small creature was had small feathers poking out from the filth. Other than that, he couldn't make out any other detail as it was curled up into a ball, shivering.

"Whoa. N-not the p-prettiest thin' 'r-r-round, are y-ya?" Stan joked, his words shaking as much as his body. "C-come on. I-I'll take y-ya back ta m-my p-p-place an' get u-us warmed up-p." Shifting the creature closer, Stan started to make his way home, putting some hurry in his step to get there faster.

Not noticing a bright, blue glow far behind him.