Gravity Falls
The sun rose far over Gravity Falls, crisp morning air turning into an almost muggy noon atmosphere, the change in temperature causing wind to carry the scent of sharp pine off the forest and onto the surrounding areas. The light breeze rolled over the sea of green, uncountable needles gently swaying in the breeze, moved by the soft exertion of force on them, and as it continued its past through the wilderness it washed over the rugged exterior of a wizen, but in no way run down, shack that served as a tourist attraction and home to a select few residents. The structure stood roughly two stories tall, including its attic, its shingles barely cling to its triangular roof in some places, old and greying. A sheet of tin laid out near the S that fell from its perch among its brothers, covering the hole left from where the fraction of the sign fell, yellow-green moss sprouting up across it in many places acting as a true testament to its age and allowing it a certain 'homey' look as nature battled to claim it, but failed as it stood in its resolve to house its family, bearing signs upon its exterior such as "gifts," "world famous," and its most proud badge of honor, "Mystery Shack."
It was in this domain, this small fortress of old things, expensive junk, and regrets that Dipper Pines woke.
Stirring in his bed, the boy begins to rise near noon, such as any other boy who during their summer vacation, especially one who had been up late researching his collective of clues around the various mysteries of Gravity Falls, and reading from his secret journal. Face buried in his thick and fluffy pillow, his shaggy hair pressed underneath half of his head, while the rest either lays on the cushion or the other half of his head, he blinks a couple times after drowsily realizing he was awake, then pulls more of the blanket onto him, stretching out under them as he loosened up the muscles and prepared to get up. Feeling near euphoria from his limbs as he stretches them, he relaxes after they pass the peak, laying under the covers for a moment as his mind returns to its normal alert state when not sleeping. Tossing off his sheets, then sitting up and yawning once, he steps out of bed, having grown so accustomed to the room that he doesn't even notice its features, their existence listed in his subconscious.
He looks onto his sister laying in bed, blankets pulled up close to her as she rests. Ever since that jerk Lucas had bitten her, her internal alarm clock had been on the fritz, as she was no longer a creature of the day, but one of the night who must operate by day. They had set up thick curtains over their room's window to block out the sunlight, as it so much bothered her. The poor thing, Dipper still felt horrible thinking over what had happened to her. At least he didn't have an irrational fear of letting sunlight touch his skin now, though dysmorphia can't be called much better.
Leaving her to sleep longer out of a feeling of pity, he went out of their attic room, closing the door as softly as he could out of habit to make sure he didn't wake Mabel. Taking his first step forward, raising his sock covered foot then setting it down ahead of the other, it felt...weird. Not wrong of course, it couldn't feel wrong to be in his own skin, but as he walked down the hall it was like he was unsure if he was doing it correctly. It was like this every morning, waking and questioning who you were; man or wolf; unsure of each movement.
If that made any sense.
He knew that The Wolf felt that same way, though it understood it better, not tied down by those complex abstract concepts like words, only knowing pure meaning. In that way he almost resented his human body and mind for that, just as he almost resented The Wolf's body and mind for causing him to feel these things. Ever since he was bitten and first turned this is what it had been like. Unsure if you should throw your plastic water bottle in the recycling, or chew on it some.
It made him shudder as he thought about it, turning to the bathroom. He had a little trick he used each morning to help him with this split sense of self. Turning on the lights he went to the mirror, smiling, happy as he saw his own face in it still. The smile would only last for a moment though, as the face staring back still felt slightly foreign.
Turning his face to the right, he reached up and lightly touched his cheek, running his fingers down to his chin, then rubbing it. Turning the other way he felt the other half, touching everywhere, feeling every rise, fall, bump, and crevices, going and tugging at his ear a little. A little uncomfortable, but at least he knew it was the one he had. Reaching up he laid his hands against the mirror, palms pressed flat to the glass, he leaned his head in, getting a nice close look in as he examines his hands, his arms running down to them, and his body where his arms connected.
Taking a breath in, now feeling much more grounded, and confident in his physical form, he heads out to go downstairs for breakfast.
Later
"Mabel, time to get up." Dipper said after having gotten changed, lightly attempting to rouse his sister.
"Hissss..." She responded dulling, pulling the blankets up over her head.
"Mabel, I mean it," Dipper said, grabbing the covers and pulling them back, "It's time to get up. I know you hate it, but Stan's heading into the store and we're going with him."
The sheets slipped from Mabel's hand as Dipper yanked them away, having not really bothered to hold on. She groaned and sat up, bedhead wild and messy. Nowadays there was about a fifty-fifty chance she'd either be well wrested in the morning, or feel like she had gone on another Smile Dip trip.
She stepped out of bed, trudging for her clothing. Dipper leaves her to her own devices while she changes, knowing that after a few minutes she'd perk up. He went down the hall, stopping at a window, getting a clear view of the surrounding forest. On days like this, he began craving being out there, with soft pine needles crunching under paw and wild scents on his nose, fur slicked back against his body by rushing air as the spindly legs of the pup quickly carried him through the woods.
He looked away from it, suspecting that if he wanted to he could take on the form of The Wolf right then and there. Something he normally couldn't muster, though he also suspected if he kept looking he'd slip away into a daydream and inadvertently change regardless.
Well… at least he was coming to recognize it. He turned from where he stood overlooking the yard and forest, and… and what looked like Gompers chasing a coyote away. You go, Goat!
Walking back down the hall he knocked on the door to his and Mabel's room. "Mabel?"
"Come in!" She responded on the otherside, sounding much more cheery.
Dipper twisted the doorknob, opening it and coming in. "How you holding up?" He asked, stepping through the doorway.
"Pretty good." Mabel adjusted the oversized sunhat on her head she had taken to wearing to keep the sunlight off, a big pink plastic kitten pin that Mabel may or may not have mugged a five year old for was stuck to the side of the crown. "Just need to put on the sunscreen." She said, picking up a bottle of Dipper's SPF 100. "By the way, you're almost out."
Dipper looked at the oversized bottle, which would have lasted him the whole summer, but Mabel went through that stuff surprisingly fast. "That's on the list of things we need." Dipper said, though Mabel technically didn't NEED sunscreen, it just acted as a kind of mental barrier against her vampiric fear of the sun.
"Along with dog treats!" Mabel said cheerfully, squirting out some sunscreen into her hand.
Dipper rolled his eyes at the comment, "Hahaha-no." He said, smile turning into a mildly annoyed look of apathy on his semi-expressionless face.
"Haha, lighten up, Fido! You and Waddles go through those things like Gompers goes through cans and Stan goes through costumers." She laughed as she continued to apply sunscreen.
Dipper reached out with his index finger, and flicked up, tipping Mabel's large straw hat off her head.
"Hey!" Mabel spun around and caught the hat as it fell with surprising speed and ease, sticking her tongue out at Dipper as she placed it back on his head.
Finishing up, Mabel placed large sunglasses over her eyes, and made sure that her rich brown hair were positioned in a such a way that covered her pointed ears, held in place by her headband.
"How do I look?" She asked, tilting her hat back, showing off her light orange sweater, the design of a sunflower in full bloom growing up from the lower hem to the chest.
"Fancy." Dipper answered, though this was coming from from a guy who thinks washing his clothes is a waste of time, so think of that what you will.
They'd head out together, meeting Stan and Soos, one of which was basically free labor when it came to running these errands, in the living room, who had been waiting for them below much to Stan's impatiens. They would have left right then, but Stan had misplace his fez, and refused to go out to town without it! After grumbling at a smug remark from Dipper, he found it under the checkout counter with no indication of how it got there.
He suspects Waddles.
Later
After a short ride into town, dodging a few cars, as well as what appeared to be a suicidal woodpecker distraught over the state of its marriage, on the way over, they finally managed to pull into the driveway of the local retail store. Rectangular in shape, it looked like, well, every retail store EVER, it contained all they'd need to hold them over for the next few days, from groceries to pet supplies. They exited the car, much to Dipper's delight, the various foul odors he noticed once his sense of smell spiked had begun to bother him.
Not to say it wasn't intriguing. On the contrary, he had come to understand why dogs were always fixated on smelling certain objects. Not only were smells sharper, but he found that smells were often 'layered,' with many unique scents overlapping each other to form a distinctive smell from a particular source. Coming to think of it, a heighten sense of smell could be very useful in pursuing the mysteries he had been trying to solve all summer...
Stepping out onto the dark grey asphalt, already heating up as the sun's searing beams bore down relentlessly on the stone, they walked around the car and onto the cooler sidewalk, going to the left then making a right to the automatic doors that provided passage to the air conditioned sanctuary of reasonable prices, discounts, and probably more than a few subliminal messages aimed at inspire patrons to buy more.
Dipper noticed the sea of smells before he even went through the door. It was pleasant really, a ten-thousand different smells mixing to for ten-thousand new ones, providing no end of olfactory stimulation to keep the inexperienced lycanthrope enthralled.
Mabel on the other hand noticed from the moment she walked through the automated doors that everything was so big and orderly. It was a comfort really. Vampirism had left her with near OCD like compulsions, and she had to constantly worry when she went out about being able to stop herself from acting on them. It mostly revolved around counting small, unorganized things, such as a tiny patch of flowers, seeds that had been spilt in front of her, or that a pile of popsicle sticks the boys hadn't thrown away just yet. This behavior only grew worse when she was stressed, often turning to it as a means to calm down. She even had a few sweaters with several little repetitive designs on the front that she could look down to and count whenever she grew stressed.
Stan got a cart, "Soos, check the arts and crafts secretion for multi-colored glitter! I've got a genius idea for my next traction: picture it, from the Land Down Under, straight of out legend: 'The Rainbow Serpent!'" He said the charismatic mannerism of a con-man trying to sell something, his hand raised in front of his chest, slowly waved from the left to right as he said it, as if highlighting the sign for this next attraction he envisioned, head tilted back slightly and gaze up, excited as he grinned, staring at something invisible. "...Or snake. I don't know."
Soos soluted, more than happy to serve the closest thing he had to a father figure however he could. "Yes, Sir, Mr. Pines!" The handyman ran off to do as he was commanded.
"And don't forget some feathers too!" Stan shouted after him, moving the cart along, Dipper and Mabel by his side. They would probably wonder off together soon.
They went through the aisles, Stan flopping in paper towels, toiletries, aftershave, bread, serial, some meat of an undisclosed nature, and of course a box of dog treats.
"Okay, seriously?" Dipper said in irritation, crossing his arms.
"Lighten up, Kid. Last time you accidently lost it you got into the pantry and tore up a whole box. They keep you manageable, and we need another. Deal with it." He looked through the shelves. "Now lets see..." he grabs a can off one, holding it in front of him while he examined it. "Dog food?"
He and Mabel both looked at Dipper.
The boy looked between his Grunkle, sister, and the can. "...Don't you dare."
"We've got a keeper!" Stan dropped it in, continuing to push the cart along.
Dipper growled, lowering his head and looking away, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked off.
Mabel skipt after him. "Awww, is the wittle Dipper a pouty puppy?" She laughed at what she said.
"Mabel, please cut it out." He protested, lacking the proper experience and maturity to accurately express that it bothered him that they were poking at such a sensitive subject.
"Haha, does someone need a bellyrub?"
"Mabel, don't even-" He was cut off as Mabel rubbed/tickled his stomach, making him burst into fits of laughter, recoiling back, drawing his arms up, elbows turning in to his side. "M-M-Mabel, STOP!" He yelled, swatting her hands aside. If she had kept it up, he'd be fuzzy right now. "Not in public." He leaned forward, whispering, "You almost got me to sprout a tail."
"Oops...Sorry, Homedog, I keep forgetting anything can set you off." She smiled sweetly, eyes kind and sorry behind the sunglass as she tilted her head a little to the right, looking at her brother.
Dipper was taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Taking a look back, he was actually having a very lucky day, he thought for sure he would turn that time. "It's fine, just, just don't do it again. I don't think Stan wants me to shed in the car."
Mabel giggled a little, and with that they were made up. It certainly took Dipper's mid off the whole dog food thing.
After a few minutes Stan went to pay, though he used a couple coupons that expired before Dipper and Mabel were born. Mabel had found a newly emptied tip jar, and could visibly see all the coins in it. She counted 46 pennies, 5 nickels, 7 dimes, and thirteen quarters. It was satisfying once she had finished, though she hated that she felt the compulsion at all. Dipper had walked a short distance, the soles of his shoes clicking against the white and blue linoleum floor, the glossy sheen reflecting a dull imagine of him straight up, along with the glow of the fluorescent lights overhead.
He took two steps past a trashcan, then stopped. Something inside it smelt really interesting. And I mean like, REALLY interesting. Kind of like chicken mixed with nutmeg and lavender that had been used as a manitor sweatclothe then sprayed with light perfume. He turned to face the can, sniffed a few times, gaze locked on the container, a cold sweat breaking out on his brown as his heart pumped like a thunderdrum in his ear, butterflies taking off in his stomach. He takes a step towards it, transfixed, eyes widening like a saucer, then another as he got ready to get down on all fours and stick his head in.
Tap tap!
He was poked twice in the back, then a hand took his shoulder and turned him to face her. Mabel was looking at the disoriented boy, taking a step back while keeping her hand on his shoulder, leading him away. "Sorry, bro, can't let you do that."
She placed her other hand on his other shoulder, taking another step back with him. "You still with me, Dipper?" It was just a hunch, but she thought talking, using words his human brain had to comprehend, would help pull him back.
He blinked a few times. "M...Mabel..."
"Hi-yah, Brobro! Almost wolfed out there for a second."
"Yeah...yeah." He straightened up, starting to walk with her, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Thanks for keeping me people."
They'd head head back to the Shack after that, and after Stan miraculously didn't get banned from that store as well, most likely because they just didn't want to go through the hassle of fighting him and gave in, accepting the ancient coupons.
Later
When they got home they helped unload the car, Dipper still irritated to see that the can of dog food actually had been bought, but at least they'd be good for a couple of days. Mabel was glad to be out of the sun, though Dipper wished he could go into town more without worrying.
After it was all inside, Stan left again, leaving Soos to keep an eye on them, something about going to sift through a trash heap. The kids were given near free run of the house within the realm of reason. Because despite what a lot of people had said about him, Soos wasn't completely irresponsible or idiotic, and could function well as a temporary guardian for kids.
The next few hours were mostly spent charging Soos' stomach while he had a pillow acting as armor, making "The Rainbow Serpent" as a surprise for Stan, and going into a trance like state while staring at the TV. The first of which, though he could still withstand, Soos noticed that Mabel seemed to have gotten a little stronger and faster since she was bitten.
When Stan pulled up to the Shack he had something strapped to the roof. "Soos, come give me a hand with this!"
Soos came sprinting out, stopping next to the car door, standing straight and saluting. "Soos the Handyman reporting for duty, Sir!"
"Um...at ease? Just help me get dog crate in the house."
"Dog crate?" Dipper's voice resonated over the bumping of plastic and metal together. He had come out of the house to see Stan now that he was home, but he wasn't entirely happy with how this was going.
"Yep. Figured it might be a little easier to deal with a wolf when you have someplace to put it where it can't cause destruction, chaos, blow down straw and stick house...You know, wolf things?"
Dipper looked up at the big white plastic crate as Soos lifted it down. "...Really?"
"To be fair, dude," Soos interjected, "you did steal my grilled cheese when you were all canine and stuff, right out of my mouth. Maybe this can help keep you from doing stuff, like, stealing a grilled cheese out of a dude's mouth, then be embarrassed by it when you come to."
It...was sound. And the way Soos said it had made the thought easier. "That seems reasonable." He rubbed his chin. "I guess."
"See? Killin two birds with one stone. Three if you count that I now have a legitimate reason to lock my great nephew in a crate when he's annoying that society won't frown upon if they knew the context behind."
Dipper laughed a little, nervously, as he suspected that his Gruncle wasn't kidding with that part. When Soos carried it past them inside, Dipper got a whiff of it. "Did you...get that from the dump?"
"...Yes."
At least he'd clean it once inside, though Dipper was pretty sure that as a wolf, he would like the way it smelled tonight. Preparing for it, Dipper removed his shoes while he sat on his bed, legs hanging over the edge, then removed his socks, placing them in his shoes then setting them on a shelf where he wouldn't be able to get to them as a quadruped. He had chewed on a lot of stuff last full moon, and he didn't have extra shoes.
Wiggling his toes as he felt the hard wooden floor under his feet, since he had been bitten they had developed thick, leathery soles that reduced the number of splinters the floor gave him. He left his and Mabel's room, and went to the bathroom. He had once left a mess in the living room when he changed. Stan had not been happy with him over that, and once Dipper changed back had made a joke about putting him outside, though Dipper suspected that he may have actually wanted to do it. Just a little.
He also made sure to close the bathroom door once he left, the creaky wooden frame squeezing back into place as the squeaky hinges slid over each other, aluminum knob painted brass spinning back into its original position after he lets it go. He could only imagine the embarrassment if Mabel got a picture of him drinking out of the toilet. Not to mention how gross just thinking about it was.
Done up there he went down stairs, bare feet making the old deteriorating floorboards creak under his weight. He held his hand just over the railing that seemed to be made out of sticks, jumping over a particularly dilapidated step he leaped the last three steps down, glancing at assumed was a fake stuffed dodo bird, he went out into the living room, throwing his hat onto the chair, he flopped down.
Nervously tapping his fingers against his little knees, he tries to brace himself for what is to come. Not knowing what exact time it'll happen, he had set a camera up early to record the change and see if he could find out more information about it; how it happened; what it looked like; behavior beforehand and the like. He had also asked Mabel to get the time it happened just in case something went wrong with the video camera, the same reason he included 17 cameras on their pursuit of the Gobblewonker.
"Hey, Dipper!" Mabel shouted as she entered the room. "Why you fidgeting so much? Have to go to the bathroom? You don't want to leave another mess in here like that other time."
"Mabel!" Dipper yelled, going a little pink in the cheeks. "That's...I'm not...I'm housebroken!"
Mabel burst out laughing as Dipper's face got more read when he realized what he had had said. He facepalmed, burying his face in his hand.
"Hahaha, okay… hehe… okay, seriously," she went over to the recliner, draping herself over one of its arms, resting her chin on her folded arms, looking up at her brother with big brown eyes what had grown darker since the change," What's bothering you?"
"Oh…" he sighed slightly, looking away, "You'd probably be a little nervous if you KNEW it was going to happen, but had no idea when to expect it."
Mabel got what he was saying. "Ah…" she trailed off, "I can see how you'd feel like that, but hey," she turned over on the arm of the recliner, her hair falling down from her head and stomach pointing up, "you're documenting like, paranatural stuff and junk! That always have fun with that."
"Heh, yeah, well when you say it like that it doesn't seem so… wait. Is that camera even on?" They got up and checked. "...Nope!" Presses the power button, the red light flashing on to signal it was recording. "Whew." He headed back to the chair. "That could have been… could have... been…"
His voice trailed off, becoming placid, his eyes widening as his mouth hangs open. His body going rigid in a contorted position, his bent arms jutting out in front of him, he arches his back inward while lights dim and flicker through the house.
When it stopped, Mabel looked around, blinking a few times. "Dipper?"
She felt a nudge against her leg, and looked down to see a brown young wolf pup rubbing his head against her. "Ah, there you are." She rubbed Dipper's furry head, scratching behind his erect ears, rounded at the tips. He liked that. She looked up from her now canine brother, cupping one hand next to her mouth, she shouted, "GRUNKLE STAN, DIPPER FINALLY TURNED!"
His voice returned, shouting unnecessarily, "GOT IT! BRING HIM OUT TO THE KITCHEN!"
Mabel led the pup after her to the kitchen, where Stan had the dog crate set up and was lightly leaning against it, wearing his usual informal attire of a tank top and boxer shorts, and holding something in his left hand. "Bout time. Hey boy!"
Dipper perked up, looking at his gruncle. Wolf mind or not, he still recognized family.
"Want a treat?" Stan holds up a dog treat in his left hand, Dipper's dark yellow brown eyes fixing on it. "Well? Do ya, Kid?"
Dipper's semi-bushy tail began to wag, growing excited he runs and jumps for it.
"Whoa!" Stan pulled his hand out of Dipper's reach as the the pup almost got it. "Forgot he's not a dog." He stepped around the crate, making sure that the wolf could still see it. "Go get the treat!" Stan said, tossing it in the crate.
Black claws scritted against grey wooden floor, padded feet sliding over its smooth surface as Dipper raced around, springing into the large plastic crate, its white white exterior having dulled greatly.
Stan closed the mesh wire gate, cutting off the wolf's escape, metal squeaking and clanging against its hinges slightly. "Ha!" He exclaimed. "That out to hold you."
Dipper shifted his lupine head around, arching his body to the left as he turned, chewing on his treat. He went to the gate, smart enough to know that it was almost definitely locked, but he still nudged his forehead against the woven steel barrier. When it didn't move, he pawed at it a little, whining.
"Grunkle Stan, this seems mean." Mabel said, looking up at her great uncle, eyes a little bigger than normal with concern.
"Maybe, but we need to get him used to the crate in case we ever actually need to use it." He waved her off and started to walk away. "Plus, now I don't have to worry about him running off and getting lost, chewing on my stuff, or peeing on the carpet."
"He only did that last one once!" Mabel shouted after him, Dipper, who seemingly understood at some level his sister was sticking up for him, began wagging his tail lightly. This didn't phase Grunkle Stan of course, and Mabel stopped at the doorway to the staircase entryway. She looked back at Dipper, who was gazing through the wire gate expectantly at her.
Mabel whimpered a little, but left Dipper in there as per Stan's request. Though she felt 50-50 about locking her brother in a crate, it got worse when she saw how sad he looked just over half an hour in.
"Awww...don't be like that, Dip." She knelt down in front if the crate, Dipper looking up at her with soulful eyes. "Don't be like that, it's just for now. Then you can run around, and… what is it you like to do when you're a wolf? Sniff butts? Chase cars?"
He whined a little hearing her voice drown on.
"Ehgerrr!" She made a pained face, and clenched over her heart. "Heart attack! Too… cute!... Wait. Do I even still have a heartbeat." She looked down at her chest, still wearing her sunflower sweater. "...Meh." She shrugged
Dipper still looked up at her like the sad little puppy he was.
Mabel placed her fists on her hips, looking down at him, her lower lip sticking out in gruff little frown as she squints at him. "Stop that."
He doesn't.
"I said stop that!"
He still won't.
"Gosh darn it, stop looking so sad!" She practically jammed her face against the gate.
Dipper sat up, ears perking and eyes on her, excited as he thinks she's about to do it, and maybe, on some deep level, even without his normal human mental capacity, he knows she's about to break.
She looked into his expecting yellow brown eyes, trusting and innocent. Too genuinely loyal and believing to betray. "...Blarg." She said with an absolute straight face. "Fine, I'll let you out." She began to work with the lock. "But you have to promise to be a good boy."
The second the latch was unlocked and the Mabel stepped to the side, pulling the gate open, Dipper sprang out, bolting in a brown blur in a straight line, springy legs pushing him of the ground as he leaped forward at the end of the kitchen, carrying him right through the open kitchen window.
Mabel watched in silent as her brother disappeared out the window, unmoving and unresponsive, gave fixed on the window. "I...," she rubbed her chin, eyes narrowing towards the window in contemplation, "I didn't know he could make that jump."
Outside the moment Dipper's paws touched down on hardened, packed dirt, a spang ran through his heart as the wild hunt ran through him. Front ones coming down first then pulling forward has the back ones followed, coming up to his front legs before they came crashing back down, pushing off the dirt and launching him forward as he sprinted, yellowed grass crunching underneath him with each step.
His heart pounded, adrenaline flowing freely through his body as he reached speeds to keep up with any fleet-footed hare. As a boy he could never move this fast, but as a wolf in that short burst to the treeline in view of the kitchen window, he felt like he could run with lightning bolts through storm clouds, the endless currents through the ocean, or the ever shifting magma-flows through the earth-bones themselves. His tongue flopping through the air with each great bound hangs to the left of his face, fur pressed back by the rushing air, as he passes the trees and shrubbery, racing into the forest and the night, the silver luminance of the full moon the only light provided to him.
The soft pine needles crunch underpaw as he weaves in and out of trees; the wild scents, diverse, untamed, and free, resting themselves upon his nose. Now was the time to run wild. Now was the time to hunt. His sprinting turned into the wide gait of a romp, and his romp then became a trot. He stopped, panting heavily from the exertion and thrill of it all. His ears remained perked and at the ready, the second sharpest of all his senses, rotation around to face different directions, picking up on the many sounds of the forest and its inhabitants making their wild music, on the lookout for danger or prey.
Remaining like that, just listening to the forest and its music, he'd gather his breath before moving on, the pads of his feet muffling his movement. His sleek body slipping through the folds in the undergrowth, he weaves in and out of bushes, his young frame having yet to reach its full size, allowing him to stay lower and more concealed while he prowled. A useful advantage of still being the little guy.
He lowers his head to the ground, sniffing, then raises it back up, sniffing more. There's many smells, but the question remains if he can find potential food. The most common things he usually snags are rabbits, squirrels, a beaver this one time, and low living birds. He stepped out of the patch of underbrush that was concealing him, looking, smelling, and listening. He didn't have the same understanding of smells as a normal wolf, as he hadn't been a werewolf for long, but he was quickly learning. You'd amazed what you can tell from a smell: age, sickness, emotion, species, and much more.
Determining that there was no suitable prey nearby, the little brown wolf trotted off to explore areas with more potential.
Trot turning into a gallop, he picked up more speed, gliding between trees and once vibrant green plants that had dulled slightly in the summer heat, energized, full moon's light breaking through the tree canopy to cast illumination through the forest. He had all night. And this was how it went for most of the night. Moving swiftly from place to place, sniffing for potential food, moving on when he found none, and occasionally stopping to gaze up at the full moon through breaks in the tree cover above him. The white glow of the great sky disc was always so... entrancing.
A little disappointed that he was unable to find any proper food, Dipperpup sat down on his haunches, lowering his head and angling his gaze down, his ears drooped, tail curling against his thigh. He let out one whimper, then another, staying there like this for a while, the wolf may have been able find his way back to the Shack, but it had very little experience with navigating distances as far as he had traveled, and hadn't exactly been paying attention to where he had gone. He didn't quite have the mental capacity for rational thought to think about it as clearly as that, but he did have enough to understand that by running off like that, he was probably lost. The tall, thick pine trees around him stretching up, competing with each other to earn their spot in the sunlight before it arrived again, deep brown trunks as visible as far as any eye could see, they rose and fall with the shape of the land, growing up and around Oregon's large rock outcroppings that were both above and below ground. Shrubbery, ferns, and other flora grow between those trees, some patches of bushes and the like are tall enough to conceal a man, and thick enough for small animals to take refuge in without fear of big hunters.
To make it worse, he missed Mabel.
He may have pouted more, but air moves a little differently through thick forest, especially when there's uneven terrain and no constant strong wind. It was because of this that when the airflow gently shifted a little that he noticed for the first time a new scent.
He perked up, sniffing again, taking careful analysis of the new smell. He recognized the like of it. He had been harassed by a pack of adult female werewolves before, learning from this how to distinguish between wolves and werewolves, as well as identify rough age, size, and gender. Observing it shortly, he took it in, and soon it became very apparent that this was most likely an adult male. A very big one.
He stood up, anxious and nervous, ears perking up and flicking around to try to pinpoint the source of the smell. Another sniff made it very clear that he was getting closer. One of his ears picked up the sound of rustling, rotating it instinctively to get a better lock on the sound, hearing branches sliding over fur as it drew nearer. Dipper jumped around to face the direction he heard it from, he crouched down, tail between his legs and ears pressed back against his head, glancing from side to side and behind him as he began to back up into a fold in the bushes. Getting down on his stomach and fur covered forearms, he crawled back into them, laying his head, nestled between his front legs, he tries to make himself as small as possible, hiding as still as he could under the woody plants.
It was then, from out of the shrubs and undergrowth, that the approaching werewolf emerged, sleek and muscular build sliding out from between the bushes he had been navigating through. Stepping into a patch of moonlight, his dark brown fur glistened slightly with a sheen that some wolves developed during the summer, hints of auburn within the brown coat brought out by exposure to sunlight before hand. He continued, going through the opening into the slight clearing Dipper had occupied moments before hand, tail held high with a slight upward curve and ears facing forward, head held up with eyes secure and directed forward.
The typical behavior of an alpha, despite that he was most likely a lone wolf. That meant either he was very arrogant as a human, or had reason to be confident as a wolf.
He came to a stop less than two yards from where Dipper hid, turning his head to the left, piercing amber eyes staring directly into the patch between the bushes where Dipper laid in. The young wolf knew that he was spotted, but remained absolutely still. This territory wasn't marked, and that could mean that this lycanthrope was passing through just like him, giving no reason to be afraid. The big wolf changed its path, and walked towards Dipper. The wolfboy tensed, readying to run, the huge lupine frame looming over him. He crawls back a little, putting a few more inches between them, the larger wolf lowering its head and its gaze to Dipper's.
Stopping inches from the pup's nose, the matured one gazed at him for a few moments, quietly sniffing. The big wolf takes two steps forward, drawing its head around the younger's back, little leaf covered branches brushing against the fur covered face. As he did this Dipper turned onto his back before the larger wolf, exposing his stomach in submission, acknowledging the other's superior status. The larger wolf only continues to sniff, burying his wet nose in the little werewolf's soft and fuzzy tummy, taking careful note of his scent.
The bigger wolf draws its face up, stepping back, calm gaze still on Dipper. The smaller of the two relaxes, recognizing that the larger meant no hard, his tail began to wag slightly. He turned over onto his stomach, staying low with his yellow gold eyes fixed on the other werewolf, tail still wagging. He crawls forward slightly, inching towards the bigger, he was met with the same calm looking of observation. Dipper got up, staying very low as he slowly walked towards the bigger wolf, raising his head up a little, remaining cautious as he sniffs the other, tail still wagging a little, finding that it was a good scent: a friendly scent. Drawing up some, but still cautious, he lifts his head to lick at the lips of the larger wolf, which allows it, but jerks its head away, a little uncomfortable with how the display of dominance felt.
Dipper's almost bushy tail began to really wag, and he jumped up, prancing around the larger than crouching down the upper half of his body, front legs bread far and wide as he gazed up with yellow brown eyes, behind in the air and tail swishing back and forth as he hoped to play. Again, the bigger of the two made no objection.
Dipper sprang up again, jumping around the other, and prancing a little. The big wolf watched him, his tail began to sway a little, and as Dipper rushed him, jumping up on his hind legs to throw his front legs around the larger's neck, play biting him, the other werewolf returned his fake attack, jumping up slightly and throwing his body to the left while he swipes, throwing the smaller one off him. Dipper came bounding right back, the larger one jumping him excitement, wrapping both arms around Dipper when he tries it again, throwing the pup on his back and pinning him beneath his larger frame. The young wolf looked up, ears held back and tail wagging as he submitted.
The older werewolf released him, and step back, the smaller twisting around and standing up, panting in excitement. The larger one turned and walked off in the direction Dipper had come in from, stopping a few yards away and looking back. Dipper's tail still wagged, and he walked after him.
They'd trot off from their, the elder wolf leading the younger back along the faint scent he had left behind as he had ran through the woods. He kept after that scent, moving as silent and gracefully as a spirit, continuing until a faint light could be seen up ahead. Once they reached the treeline, their view peering past it, the Mystery Shack was clearly visible about a hundred or so feet off. Dipper grew exciting, ears and tail rising as his breath became heavier.
They weren't stopping there though. After taking a mental note of where the Shack was, the larger male began walking away parallel to the treeline. Dipper glanced after him, then back at the Shack, back at his home, then he turned his attention back to the one who brought him back and followed him.
The werewolf re-entered the woods, looking back to make sure he was still being followed, then trotted away into them. Dipper would continue to follow him, and would eventually be led to an area of the forest about a mile or two away where the trees were much sparser as it drew closer to a field of grass. In this stretch of forest little paths were worn down in the grass from constant travel by rabbits as they moved between warren entrances. The older wolf laid down on a patch of earth, grey yellow grass crunching beneath him as he lounged in the moonlight, long build illuminated by its splendor.
Dipper looked at him for a minute of, but hearing a rustle in the grass, and the thump of a rabbit's paw, his gaze snapped in the direction he heard it from. Crouching down, he quietly prowls through the grass, slinking around in a long arc, attempting to get a better view of the rabbit. His wet nose picking up on the scent of many rabbits hanging in the air and clinging to the grass, permeating from the very earth, the result of at least three generations of rabbits born here.
Among this plethora of old and new scents, the smell of one nearby rabbit was distinguishable, blood still pumping, little teeth still chewing, and as Dipper peered through the spaces between the grass, he saw it nibbling on the exposed stock of some kind of lupin. He opened his mouth, white fangs flashing and coated in saliva from his watering mouth, inhaling he tastes it upon the roof of his mouth. It was that of freshly caught trout, and the print of his paw in the marsh mud as if filled with water. He did not know why this was what came to mind when he tasted rabbit on the wind, but it was his taste, and The Wolf saw that it was good.
The muscles of back legs explode, sending him bounding forward with all the speed he could muster, sprinting at the startled bunny as he erupts from the brush. The rabbit's heart rate is sporatick, its mind wild and hysteric, the base reflexes kicking in as panic ensues, it's little bunny legs kicking out and sends him sprinting as the unknown source of his terror, Dipper, closes in.
The chase is short and intense. The rabbit bounding through the field, zigzagging and changing its direction on a dime. The larger, but equally fast, young wolf can't keep up with it's sharp turns, and it soon goes bounding away.
CHOMP!
Right into the jaws of the older wolf who appearing out of nowhere, pouncing out from the grass where he had positioned himself, seemingly like the more experienced hunter anticipated the whole course of events. Snapping it up, he vigorously shook his head, thrashing the rabbit about. He then plopped down where he stood with his catch, dropping it in front of him.
Dipper came bounding up, panting from the sudden exertion. Dropping down onto his stomach, he crawled towards the larger wolf, belly to the ground, lowering his head as he sniffed the kill, draw closer to the dead rabbit.
The other wolf pulled the dead thing to him, protecting his food for the moment, and very deliberately began about the work of eating it.
Dipper whined watching him, having not eaten all night, and had his hopes set on that rabbit when he went for it. Under other circumstances, he would have been amazed at the experience this wolf had with catching prey. He let Dipper flush it out, leading it right to where he was waiting, then claimed it as his own. Now he'd just have to wait for the scaps. Or so he thought.
After eating only a small bit, being careful to leave it mostly intact, the werewolf nudged the rest of it forward with its brown snout, flipping it over to the crouching Dipper about two feet away. The younger werewolf looked up at the calm and relaxed elder, then stretched forward, snapping up the rabbit and greedily pulling it to him. He set about consuming the kill, tearing off blooding bits and chewing them.
He would eat everything. Meat, blood, bones, and fur. Dipper left nothing behind as he worked his way through it, licking his lips clean of the red when he was done. Happy now with food in his belly he looked at the generous werewolf, crawling towards him and stretching his neck to lick its lips as a sign of respect and thanks.
It allowed it.
Eventually the larger wolf rose, and Dipper, now more than happy to follow it, rose to. The larger wolf set about leading them back the way they came, trotting over the grass, under shrubs, and between trees. It stops at the treeline, striking amber eyes gazing out over the field to the Mystery Shack. Thoughts moved about in its mind that were far more complex than a normal wolf's. He sat down between two trees, Dipper taking up seat next to him. Remaining in the shadows, he watched the windows where light still poured out as the residence hadn't gone to sleep yet, and were still worrying about Dipper.
Speaking of which, it was now that Mabel trudged her way back to the Shack, flashlight in hand and sad look on her face. She has spent the better part of the night looking for him, even blowing the wish she got from a shooting star she spotted just to make sure he was alright. She walked solemnly to the doorway, wiping her feet on the matt, she was about to call it a night when she made her final attempt.
Turning around to face out from the shack, Mabel cupped her hands around the sides of her mouth, inhaling as deeply as she could, and shouting out as loud as could possibly bring herself, "DIIIIIIIIPPPPEEEEEERRRRRRR!" Her voice rang out over the field, resonated through the Shack, and penetrated deep into the forest.
Dipper perked up hearing his sister call his name, his tail beginning to wag fiercely as he saw her.
Mabel stood there listening and looking out into the night, hoping to hear something other than her echo and the sound of wind.
First came the crunch of brown dry grass, then the sound of a large moving body. She looked slightly to her right, and saw a dark shape sprinting at her through the night. Dipper jumped up, practically tackling his sister to the ground, tail flailing behind him as he licked her face.
Laughter ensued after the first "ow," and soon Mabel could be heard calling Dipper a "naughty boy." The vampire girl pushed her excited werewolf brother off, managing to get up as he pranced around. She went inside with Dipper, yelling out unnecessarily that she found him, her voice grinding against Grunkle Stan's ears, but her words soothing.
From the shadows between the trees the older of the two werewolves who had spent the night traveling together watched the activity within the rugged old shack, family greeting the young werewolf and treating him with kindly, showing that he was well missed and loved. The large werewolf rose onto all fours, the wind picks up, pine needles and leaves being lifted from the ground and swirling about. When it stops a young man stands in the place of the large wolf looking at what's transpiring before him, a slight smile on his face.
