The family found it a fair bit more difficult to re-board the stumpy little Stan O'War to get back into town. Mabel's sweater worked alright; perhaps a little too well. While the beavers didn't particularly pounce after her or try to tear the knitted garment apart, they were very enthusiastic.
And were so en masse. Silent, threateningly en masse.
Every step she took, the beavers followed, shuffling along like a brain-dead dancing troupe from 1983. Mabel briefly considered using the scene for a music video as she climbed into the little boat and watched them, her head cocked. "These little guys are crazy!"
"Very… odd behaviour." Ford agreed. "Probably best we just make our departure and-"
Mabel slipped a strip of the wood bark free and threw it at them. "Here you go! Don't get too excited!"
The beavers watched it land in front of them and cocked their heads - all in complete unison. An individual from the crowd of buck-toothed rodents picked it up in its teeth and - followed in an orderly fashion by its peers - they made their way back towards the harbour.
Back towards the stricken old vessel that lay there, bobbing and rocking in the fog-shrouded waters of Scuttlebutt Island.
It was a bizarre ritual; almost venerable towards the little scrap of redwood from Mabel's sweatshirt. Quiet, hushed and careful. Exactly what you wouldn't expect from the particularly dim creatures of Gravity Falls. After all, they did try to chew chainsaws. In that sense they had more in common with the likes of Toby Determined than any particularly developed member of society.
The Pines looked to eachother in bewilderment. Mabel bounced excitedly on the boat as she watched, sloshing it back and forth and nearly throwing her brother out of it. "Look at that! They love it!"
Ford rubbed his chin. "Mabel, the wood - where is it from?"
The chipper Pines twin's face dropped as she froze. Her rosy cheeks, usually a strong pink hue, went pale. "Uh... I d-dunno."
"You don't know?"She shifted uncomfortably, her hand moving towards her sweater's collar instinctively. "I mean, um-"
"Kevin brought a lot of it the last time he was here. For her to use in craft projects and stuff." Dipper interrupted, holding his sister's shoulder protectively. It wasn't strictly a lie; just lacking the firm date of 'really early this morning with a lot of pre-teen, awkward platonic romance.'
Mabel beamed at her brother appreciatively. She'd pay him back by reducing her teasing for at least the next hour, or something. Such was the Mabel way.
"I only know he said it was the best quality bark in town," Mabel replied, shyly twisting her foot on the floor. "And- and he got it especially-"
"Guess we'll be asking questions at the Corduroy cabin after McGucket." Stan huffed. "At least the Corduroys get a decent cuppa joe. Pretty sure McGucket adds bacon fat like that history jerk with the frilly pantaloons."
"That," Ford said, "Is one man I hope we never have to encounter again. Completely unhinged. Irritating."
"You're just jealous because he's a next-level genius!" Mabel snorted. "That man is the perfect example that we can all benefit from being a little crazy! Especially in Gravity Falls!"
"If you say so, Pumpkin. I doubt there's much help he'd be here." Ford replied, simply, pulling the cord on the boat's motor. Mabel tried to protest but was drowned out by the roar of the old propeller-driven boat rattling back to life and scraping back from the island's banks, returning to the water.
Dipper pulled out his pine tree journal and scribbled away in it. His penmanship was pretty good considering they were in a turbulent little banana crate boat. Pacifica figured that if you were as consistently anxious as he was, you kind of got used to rattly hands. "You think the wood is the same stuff used on the boat?"
"Seems like it." Pacifica shrugged, peering over his shoulder and smiling at the sight of his drawing of the wood-nabbing beaver-troupe. "Need bigger eyes."
"Right, right." Dipper nodded, scribbling out larger pairs of beady-beaver eyes. "... What I don't get is why they're bothering with that bit of wood when they're surrounded by the damned things. If they can restore a boat, surely they can get all that lumber junk working, too?"
"Dipper, it's not like they've done an amazing job restoring it."
"They're beavers. The fact they're doing a job at all is weird enough."
Pacifica giggled. "After this Summer, really? I mean, beaver labour is basically what built Greasy's Diner, They can't be that dumb."
"Eh, I dunno. It just seems a little too organised."
The two glanced back together at the island as it enrobed itself back into fog and the unnatural shadow that enveloped it, perpetually. Giant, towering pines shrunk back into angular silhouettes, and the arm of an ancient donkey crane disappeared into nothing more than a forlorn, creaking crossbeam against the place's natural vertical lines.
The chill from the air dissipated from around them - that natural feeling of dread ebbing away like a colossal boulder rolling off of their shoulders. Slowly every person in the battered little boat found themselves relaxing again, realising just how upright they had been sat, how stiff and paranoid they had all felt when under the place's control.
Scuttlebutt Island may have once been a bustling lumber camp, but it certainly wasn't now. And if it was such a foreboding, unpleasant place back when those things were in use, it was no wonder that they abandoned it all.
Some places were simply better left uninterrupted. And it felt like - for now, at least - Scuttlebutt Island was not ready to give up its secrets on its own terms. Their tour of the town was set to continue - and they only had so many hours to do it before, inevitably, the beavernants would make their appearance.
"So watcha find?" Tyler asked the kids, eagerly.
Stan twisted his lip at the sight of the little man in the cowboy boots and spoke up before Pacifica and Dipper even got a chance to answer. "Have… have you been standing there since we left?"
"N-no! I've been doing - um - important mayor things!"
"Right. Well, we ain't any closer to sortin' things out, Tyler. Just hang tight, huh?"
"There's nothing there at all?" The mayor tried to clarify with the kids. He had clearly learnt fairly long ago to never take Stan's word on anything.
"Well, there was a logging camp?" Pacifica ventured.
"And I uh… guess that's it." Dipper shrugged, figuring that it would be best to keep the presence of the bizarre ghost ship on the down-low until they got more information. After all, there could be treasure aboard it, right? And smallpox. But he kinda liked those odds.
Tyler clicked his fingers in frustration and held his baby soft-chin as he looked to the floor, deep in thought. "So watcha gonna do now?"
Dipper pushed out his chest a little in an effort to look like the big, tough monster hunter that he hoped the town interpreted him as to seem a touch more authoritative. It mostly made him look constipated. "We'll do what we do best and keep investigating, Mr. Mayor. We'll get to the bottom of it!"
"What we do best is getting ourselves into trouble." Pacifica smirked, holding Dipper's shoulders as if she was trying to push out the air from his slightly inflated ego. "But sure, we'll work it out."
"We'll get our teeth into even the hairiest mystery!" Mabel chirped, looking remarkably proud of herself.
For Tyler, who hadn't been particularly involved thus far in the beaver-laden adventure, it was just another puzzling statement from the more… eccentric member of the Pines family. He just smiled reassuringly and patted her head. "Well, as long as y'all stay safe and don't go doin' something stupid… like blowin' up the high street! Ha! Imagine how… how crazy that'd be."
Cutebiker stared off into the distance and went quite silent, his mind clamouring for clarity as he mulled over those strange, uncanny feelings that still seemed residual in his head. Canker something. Something odd and unobtainable in his brain that frustrated him, immensely.
The Pines, smiling awkwardly, backed towards the car.
… Perhaps a problem for another time.