The giant goose took another few waddling, lumbering steps, its head cocking as it adjusted to its new surroundings - the bird's plumage gently fluffing out as it dried in the mountain breeze.
The wild animals nearby fled as the Gooseliath flapped its tail feathers and took another enormous, quake-inducing step. It paused, craned back its head, and produced an enormous, deafening Honk of such magnitude that it caused waves in the nearby lake.
The two Grunkles - and the stranger - stood their ground. Steadfast, if not secretly completely and utterly terrified.
"Okay. We stay calm." Ford mumbled. "It'll probably remain docile if we don't bother it."
"It's a goose , Ford. Not a wasp . A giant goose that just came out of a plum. I don't know about you, but I was just about prepared for everything but a giant goose that just came out of a plum!"
"Look, we have to approach this rationally. What reason does it have to attack us?"
"The fact that our Nephew just landed a golf cart on its damned head?!"
"I mean, the head? It was inside that fruit. It could have been-"
Stan glared at him. Ford just shrugged and nodded in submissal. Perhaps semantics for another time.
The gooseliath bowed its head to get a closer look at the stranger, who promptly put up his dukes in a somewhat laughable impression of a period boxer - causing the beaked animal to only grow more curious of the man stood before it.
"Bring it on! I did six lessons at the MacAskill School of Self Defence and I have no qualms punching an outsized Christmas roast!"
"For pity's sake, get away from the thing, you fool!" Ford bellowed - but it was too late.
Within the space of only a moment, the stranger had firmly planted a bony fist into the chin - whatever passed as the chin when it came to an animal with a beak - of the great beast. The goose recoiled. It paused, trying to focus its eyes on the source of sudden impact - and squared immediately on the man in the boxer's stance.
The stranger dropped his fists and cautiously took a step back - but, by this time, the gooseliath had decided upon retaliation.
The impossibly huge creature bowed its head and hissed in a storm of pure fury; releasing so much avian phlegm and foul, goosey breath that it sent the stranger flying backwards into the Grunkles.
Gooseliath bellowed in another horrific honk - one, this time, that was loud enough to be heard in the middle of Gravity Falls' town centre, rocks and debris falling from the clifftops as that voluminous birdcall echoed across the valley.
Mabel stared from the safety of their bush, her eyes wide. "I'm not sure if this is the most awesome or scariest thing we've ever seen."
Dipper nodded absently, his mouth agape.
"I know which I vote for." Pacifica replied, shakily. Her hatred of geese was not letting up. She found herself cowering from the sight of that enormous, black beaked creature, its beady eyes still eagerly scanning the surroundings.
Of course it could be argued that there was nothing particularly irrational about hiding from the eyes of a sixty foot tall, aggressive bird that had just been expunged by vegetation - but she did feel a little silly considering their rather more pedestrian experience of ghosts, ghouls and paranormal activity.
Did a giant bird count as supernatural? It was fair to say the otherwise rather docile creature didn't seem unusual - apart from its ridiculous size and even more ridiculous manner of being born.
It didn't like, breathe fire or anything. She hoped .
The ongoing commotion of the Gooseliath had a certain effect that hadn't occurred to any of the human interlopers. The sound of idle flapping on the lake and brook had ceased, and, now, seemed far more coordinated. Far more quiet. Far more directed.
The other geese from the lake began to peek heads through the foliage, and, to the horror of the kids, made a beeline for their natural leader.
Pacifica stared, scrambling backwards in fear as the waddling army ambled past, circling around the gooseliath without the slightest acknowledgement of the humans nearby. They all wiggled their tail feathers as they stared up at their natural leader.
The alpha goose. The king goose. The goose emperor.
There was no doubt about it in the Grunkles' minds, they were organising themselves. They glanced at eachother, nodded, and started to make their departure - stepping back from the scene as quietly as they could, the Stranger following them eagerly.
The gooseliath watched, glared… then honked at the top of his voice. Once again, an echo and a rumble echoed across the valley. And the geese listened . They gathered into a square formation ahead of their leader, and began to march.
Now. Now it seemed supernatural.
"Remarkable." Ford muttered, peering over the frame of his glasses. "In all of my years, I-"
"Do any of you have a plan?" Pacifica stammered, growing increasingly frantic and uncomfortable as the menacing, befeathered battalion drew closer. She was pretty sure she'd had this nightmare a few times.
Dipper and Mabel peaked over at the advancing army of beaks and feathers, webbed feet slapping against the floor, almost in perfect unison, their beady, black eyes fixed ahead - and the alpha gooseliath waddling behind them, as if guiding them through unspoken direction.
The stranger pulled his collar and winced. "I don't suppose anybody happens to have a sixty foot loaf of bread?"
Stan rolled his eyes, losing patience with the stranger for every minute that he had to spend with him. "If you don't shut your yap, I'll wire it shut myself!"
The stranger turned his head. "You know, I've sensed a certain hostility throughout this adventure."
"No kiddin'!" Stan replied, bristling with frustration. "You're a complete loon!"
"Don't you know who I am?!"
Ford stood up and snapped. "We don't know who you are! That's why we find your behaviour so confusing!"
The stranger stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips. "My friends, I am, in fact, none other than-"
"Quentin Trembley." Dipper and Mabel interrupted him in a particularly unimpressed monotone.
"AhHA!" Quentin shouted, flipping off his trenchcoat to reveal his finest velvet pantaloons. "Quentin Trembley himself! In the flesh!"
Ford, Pacifica and Stan all blinked and glanced at eachother incredulously. The charismatic reveal had very quickly fizzled out for the long-lost president.
"I have reinvented myself since our last escapade, Dipper, my lad! In fact, you two had such an impact on me that I have almost an entire year roaming this country's merry lands, hunting strange beasts, much like yourselves."
"Wait. Wait, I'm sorry, who are you?" Pacifica asked.
"I… have no idea who Quentin Trembley is." Ford added.
Dipper's face fell even further than it already had, one eyebrow raised high in confusion. Pacifica almost instantly wished she hadn't asked.
"You've both read my writing, haven't you?" Dipper asked - sounding surprisingly hurt by the prospect of them not being thorough with him and his sister's escapades.
"I mean, yeah, most of it." Pacifica smiled, awkwardly - giving a bit of a shrug as she continued scrambling back from the birds. "I mean, some of the pages were stuck together."
Ford peered over the hedge as he spoke, increasingly cautious of overexposition - considering the swathe of beasts approaching them. "Same here. Some sort of butterscotch candy."
Dipper glared at Mabel, who pretended to look away and scratched her head awkwardly.
"Look, I uh… that was the day we kind of humiliated Pacifica… I didn't really want her to be able to relive it-"
"We weren't a thing then, Mabel." Dipper replied through gritted teeth.
"Please, everyone knew it was going to happen."
"You've been trying to matchmake us for that long?!"
"I'm pretty good at foresight."
"You're the worst at foresight!"
"Pf, I don't tell you everything I foresee." Mabel pouted, crossing her arms.
"...Aw…" Pacifica slapped her hands over her mouth, hoping desperately that nobody had heard.
It only made her feel a little more guilty about how much of a jerk she had been. For all of her silliness, for all of her… nonsensical logic, Mabel was genuinely pretty caring and really… not the sort to hold a grudge.
She had never really spent that much time with her, and it… kind of felt a bit jarring to realise how little Mabel held anything against the town's horribly selfish, rude and arrogant rich girl. She just treated Pacifica like anybody else, even with their… troublesome past.
She was genuinely just… a really good hearted teen. A friend.
In a dumb, kind of crazy sort of way that included trying to squeeze her and Dipper together since the second they had ever even met .
Quentin remained in his proud, revelatory stance, one foot raised on the back of a passing goose, his swaths of brown, peanut scented hair flickering in the wind. It would have been impressive - until that very goose began honking repeatedly, warning the oncoming army.
The president looked down at his winged footrest and jumped backwards. "What on Earth?"
"Th-that's a scout. It's a scout goose." Pacifica gulped, becoming increasingly resigned to their fate at the hands - uh - feathers? Of the wild birds, her hands shaking.
What a way to go.
"You can all explain later." Ford said. "That includes you , Quentin. For now, we need to work out how we fight off a hundred geese."
Quentin beamed. "In my travels, I have found many useful things. No doubt I have a secret weapon against those feathered fiends…"
There was a pause.
"...Can somebody pick up my trenchcoat for me? My back appears to have cramped."