Epilogue
"You almost ready, Dipper?"
The fourteen year old turned around to face the red-haired lumberjack on his other side, who was zipping up a gigantic backpack. She held out a hand and the young detective tossed her a swiss army knife. "Ready as I'll ever be," he replied.
His friend smiled and whipped the pack onto her back. She gestured over to his own stuffed bag, which he quickly walked over and put on. "Well, come on then, dude, let's go!"
The young detective found himself grinning ear to ear as he was lead to the golf cart waiting on the other side of the Mystery Shack. However, he saw something in the grass that made him stop suddenly. "What the…"
Wendy stopped, giving him a quizzical look. "What's up?" she called. Wordlessly, Dipper beckoned her over and pointed at the tiny glass jar, half buried in the mud. After a moment of squinting, his friend finally said, "It's a jar."
"It's not just any jar," Dipper murmured. "It's that jar we used to hold the antidote stuff from a year ago."
Wendy went quiet. He noticed her hands clenching her backpack strap tighter, the knuckles turning a faint pale. Even so, the bewildered expression didn't vanish.
After Wendy had been taken home, Dipper hadn't seen her for a few days. Apparently her father didn't take her to the hospital, claiming she could recover from the 'little cut' in her back on her own. As a result, she spent maybe three weeks more in bed than she would have had to with any serious medical attention. However, the Pines twins were allowed to visit her once she was fully awake and growing painfully bored.
The lumberjack girl had never really spoken about her experience as a dragon. Every time someone brought it up, she would somehow change the subject before she actually talked about remembering anything. It frustrated Dipper a bit, but he wasn't about to make his best friend in the whole world speak about something that made her uncomfortable and sad.
"You know, I never officially thanked you for getting me out of that," Wendy mused, breaking the silence. "So, you know, thanks. Thanks a bunch."
Dipper cracked a smile. "Just doing what I do best." He picked up the jar and started to head towards the recycling bin. Wendy dropped her pack into the golf cart and caught up with him. Surprising the boy a bit, she began to talk.
"Being a dragon was super weird," she admitted. "Everything was so small, and having wings hurt. I mean, I always wished that I had a tail when I was little, but man," she made a face. "I don't want one ever again."
"I know what you mean," Dipper grimaced. "How did you even really eat? I mean, when you weren't stealing our trash."
The lumberjack sent him a playful glare. "Don't bring that up," she warned. "Anyway, I killed a few innocent deer and ate roadkill." Noticing how much her friend shivered, she added, "Only the fresh stuff."
The young detective remained silent, though he quickly tossed the jar into the bin and started back towards the cart. He looked up at the teen beside him, who looked a bit lost as she settled into the seat of the vehicle. "Why did you tear apart the porch?" he suddenly burst out, quickly covering his mouth in embarrassment.
His friend looked over at him and closed her eyes. "I want to get your attention without risking injury," she sighed. "I couldn't just hang out in the backyard, because God knows what Stan would have done. I knew you would come looking for something, and you would eventually find me." She narrowed her eyes. "I really wasn't thinking straight in that scale suit."
"No, it's a good idea," he quickly assured her. "But why couldn't you have just found me in the woods?"
"You would have peed your pants," Wendy answered, effectively ending the conversation as she started the cart.
"Can't argue with that."
The old cart sputtered to life, jumping a bit and startling the two teens inside. Wendy laughed a bit at her own joke, thinking over the reddish look on her buddy's face. With a cloud of pollution and the squealing of tires, the pair roared off into the woods, on their way to their next adventure.