Wirt woke up to a wet feeling on his hand, which he sleepily swatted off. Something else started shoving him next, and he finally opened his eyes. The world was as black as pitch, and he panicked slightly before realising he had pulled his cape over his head as he slept. He sat back up against the pine he was leaning against, noting that the wet thing he had felt earlier had just been Jason Funderburker.
"I didn't know that your frog found bony fingers comfortable." He said though a yawn.
"I swear it was his idea! He was feeling hungry and wanted to wake you up, but he didn't listen to me when I told him he shouldn't, and the next thing I knew, he had jumped over to you and had hopped into your hand."
Wirt smiled. "And why did you start shaking me afterwards, then?"
Greg shuffled around uncomfortably. "I thought that seeing as Jason Funderburker had already started the job, I might as well finish it off. I mean, nobody likes to be stuck in that limbo between dream and reality."
The older brother felt slightly uneasy at this, and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I guess so. Shall we try and find somewhere inhabited?" He asked, mentally adding: and far away from this forest.
"Sure. Do you think they would have frog food there?"
"Most probably, Greg. Do you want me to carry Jason Funderburker for you?"
"Nah, I'm fine. You're too bony anyway."
Chuckling at this, Wirt watched as his brother took the lead, frog placed on top of his elephant "costume".
He looked up, checking how far the sun had travelled since their little sleep. It seemed to be early afternoon, and still incredibly hot. Where the road met the horizon, a slight haze could be seen merging the tangible object of the path in front of them and the idea of infinity, a line forever receding in front of them, like the hopes of humanity and the dreams of…
"Bad poetry, Wirt! Focus!"
Greg turned a puzzled look towards him, wondering why his brother was berating himself. He shrugged it off and went back to pretending to be a steam train.
A slight breeze sometimes bent the towering grasses around them, the waves they formed visible when they were at the top of slight rises in the path. As the sun made its way towards the horizon, Wirt's enthusiasm at the idea of getting back to civilisation dampened. The sweat pouring down his back had him longing for the cooling shade of the Unknown's trees.
He stopped suddenly.
"Greg…"
The younger brother, who had fallen back to walking next to him, interrupted his blabber to answer him.
"Yes?"
"How much time have we spent in the Unknown?"
"Maybe a week, three days, I'm not sure."
"Greg, was the last time that you changed the night of Halloween, like me?"
"Yeah…" His eyes widened in realisation.
"And our clothes are no dirtier than when we put them on on that particular night!"
"Exactly. Except… now, I am actually sweating and it is itching like normal, and it didn't do that in the Unknown. I think we'd better get to a town quickly."
After this little conversation, Wirt's determination was renewed, and when Greg handed him his lucky frog, he took him without a word. As the sun set, he was more or less certain that they would have to make do with whatever food they had left over from the Unknown. Fortunately, the little boy's ravenous appetite had been somewhat reined in by the heat of the day, and they were fine with what they had at hand.
They walked until the light was too low for them to see the ruts in the path. They took to the edge of the field, just above the ditch. That way, thought Wirt, they could make themselves known quickly if someone happened across the path, or could escape into the natural cereal camouflage if anything else showed up. He was expecting to stay up to look over his brother most of the night anyway, and he wasn't sure how far away they really were from the strange forest.
Although his resolve was strong, the nap he had taken that morning had not done much to take the edge off his several rough, sleep-deprived days he had experienced recently. Sometime after Greg had started snoring, he dropped off himself, head pitched forward in a sitting position.
A strong torch light and a dog's bark woke him with a start. As if he had been programmed to do so, he reached for Greg and clutched him protectively in his arms. Before he could get up, Greg's wriggling not helping in any way, a net was thrown over them both. He still tried to get up and run, but he got his feet tangled in it, and the weights made it near impossible to move after that.
The barking dog grew closer, but was still held at a certain distance. Wirt could vaguely see some silhouettes against the blinding torch light, squinting to get a better look. He couldn't make out much though, his senses too fuzzy as of every morning. Greg, now fully awake, had his eyes trained on the figures, and seemed to understand better than himself what was going on. After a few minutes, and what he could only make out as hushed conversation from the few people a way off. They started to make their way towards them, and Wirt tightened his hold on Greg.
"Doré domi sifadosi, doré domi sifadosi, farédola midofala, rémifala simisifa…"
"Faréfala!"[1]
"Mabel! You messed up the incantation again!"
"Sorry, I can't resist including Waddles, he needs to be remembered in these dark times when he can't be present."
A chuckle erupted behind her, followed by the snarl of a huge black dog.
"Careful, Soos! I'm not sure that she's safe yet."
"Don't worry Dipdop. Unless you think gnomes can attack mastiffs, you shouldn't be worried."
She walked up purposefully up to the bundle in the net, swinging her torch to examine its contents. She didn't spot the Mandragora they had been chasing, only a cowering, oversized gnome covering something up in a cape.
"See? He's probably more afraid of us than we are of him!"
"No I'm not!"
"Greg!"
"Er, guys, I don't think that's a gnome."
They all turned towards the bundle, examining it more closely. The thing which had spoken earlier on, and that was covered in the cape, started squirming and protesting against the desperately tight hold. A head emerged, sporting a tin tea kettle and with a very annoyed pout on his face.
"Wirt, I can't breathe!"
At this, the older boy let Greg tumble out of his lap.
"Wait a minute, are you human?" The youngest of their jailers asked.
"No, I'm a magical tiger!"
"Greg! Yes, we're human; could you please let us out? It's a bit tight here."
The ropes were cut and they were helped out of the tangled mess they had become. The group which had greeted them turned out to be composed of two young twins, as well as a goofy, full-grown man, and last, but not least, a huge black mastiff whose name was Annie.
"Because she's got a long nose." The girl twin explained.
They were lead to a jeep that was parked some way off, in which they all squeezed the back, apart the man who was driving, and Annie, who rode shotgun.
Wirt had not spoken much, too busy keeping his brother from petting the ominous dog. Now that they were relatively safe, he was rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
"Sorry to have interrupted… whatever you were doing back there."
He addressed the male twin; he seemed to be the one in charge of this whole operation. Wirt cringed, even though the person was younger than him, when he shot him an annoyed gaze. His sister swooped in before he could utter a word, smiling through the gleaming silver of braces.
"That's ok, Annie couldn't find what we were looking for anyway. We probably lost the Mandragora's trace before we came across you."
The male twin forced his disappointment down his throat, and managed a smile. What had been done was now done, and besides, he now had two new people who would probably have some interesting story to tell.
"I'm sorry, we haven't introduced each other. Please excuse my manners, I'm a bit moody sometimes. I'm Dipper Pines…"
"…and I'm Mabel! We're paranormal investigators…"
"Mabel! Yeah, It's sort of true, but we're just here for the summer holidays really, so we can't really use that term."
"Erm, I'm Wirt and this is… wait a minute, did you say summer?"
"Yes: around August, why?"
"No, that's not right, we're about a week after Halloween."
"Summerween, you mean."
"Ok, let's get this clear. What year are we, we're in 1983, right?" Panic laced Wirt's voice, and his hat had been taken off so he could mess up his hair.
The twins looked at each other with concern in their eyes. Finally, Mabel spoke, leaning forward and taking his hand in a comforting way.
"Wirt, we're in 2010."
