The entryway was bathed in shadows when Ford stepped inside.
Even less fortunately, he had yet again forgotten to bring matches with him, despite how often Fiddleford reminded him of that time when they'd gone exploring in an underground cave and been temporarily lost in the darkness. After that, for the longest time Fiddleford had stuffed a matchbox into his coat pocket whenever he left the castle-
Ford blinked.
Wait. Did-did I remember that correctly?
...It feels like I did. But-how-surely I meant the house-
He didn't push the thought away, exactly...but he put it to the back of his mind to focus on later.
Ford took the opportunity to try cleaning his glasses again, as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
His sweater was still damp-and awfully cold, he was now realizing-but he managed to find a dry spot where it had been covered by his overcoat, and clean most of the water off his lenses before slipping them back on.
And immediately he let out a startled yell when something darted past his legs into the darkness.
Ford had even grabbed up his crossbow again and started to aim, before he realized that it was just a fox.
Interesting. I wonder if it's just here seeking shelter, or this is its home.
His eyes had adjusted enough for him to see the tip of its tail as it headed for the stairs, scrambling upward into the darkness.
Upwards, he realized, was where the light had been coming from.
Ford squared his shoulders and headed for the stairs.
They were very long and winding for the most part, and he had to step carefully because the mortar was no longer thick around some of the stones. Also, every sound he heard made the shortest, least-floofy hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and all the different possibilities of creatures (living or otherwise) it could be had him wishing he'd brought one of his all-purpose monster defense packs.
Nervously he shouldered his crossbow again, as he at last stepped onto the floor he thought he'd seen the light burning on. As best he could make out, there was a hallway before him, with a row of filthy doors on each side, some of which appeared to have been broken in. When Ford saw it, that feeling rose up again-the one that said this was familiar to him somehow. Except that this wasn't right; there were supposed to be lamps set in the walls next to the doors, and they were supposed to be painted clean and white, with numbers on them for cataloguing-
His head pounded a little with a familiar headache, but it was weaker than it had ever been when he had one of these odd memory flashes before. And this time, the memory didn't disappear altogether, it just...faded a little.
Ford rubbed his temple, and decided to worry about what it all meant later.
"Dipper? Mabel? Are you up here?"
For a moment, there was no answer.
Then, just as he was turning to try the next flight of stairs, a familiar voice, sounding far more pitiful and frightened than he had ever heard it, called back, "G-Grunkle Ford? Is that you? Help! We're in here!"
Fiddleford had been right after all, Ford realized. There was no sound in the world more terrifying than that of your child calling you for help. It trumped "angry gremloblin awakening from a nap" and "nails on a chalkboard," one hundred percent.
"Keep talking to me!" he called back, as he rushed into the hallway. "It will be easier to find you if I can follow your voice!" Then, with a flood of new worry at the realization that Mabel's was the only voice he was hearing, "Where's Dipper?!"
"He's here!" Mabel reassured him, "He's been trying to figure out a way to break the bars so we can escape out the window, but there's no furniture in here, all we got is a few rugs and the fireplace, and he was thinking about trying to break it with a coal but he'd probably burn his hand if he tried, so he's been trying to pry one of the stones out of the wall-"
Ford had finally found what seemed like the right door: it was the only one with a chain latch holding it shut from the outside. That chill of terror came back with a vengeance, as he wondered who or what had been responsible for locking it. Regardless, he quickly unhooked the latch and threw the door open.
As Mabel had said, the room was almost bare, save for a small fireplace which had an even smaller fire burning in it, and a pile of moth-eaten rugs which had been curled in front of it as a sort-of nest.
There were bars on the window, set in a gridlocked pattern that couldn't be broken free easily, the better to keep...something in, Ford thought he sort-of remembered again.
And now, running towards him with expressions that were equal parts tear-stained and relieved, were the very children he'd been looking for.
This time both of them hurled themselves at him, burying their faces in his coat and clinging for dear life. Without thinking about what he was doing Ford wrapped his arms around them just as tight.
It occurred to him that it was the first hug he'd received in...far too long.
Dipper was the first to pull back.
"We need to get out of here now!" he squeaked, voice cracking. "He's gonna come back any second, and he said he needed time to decide what to do with us!"
"Who?!" Ford demanded. Instantly the fear returned-but this time it was joined by the burn of anger, at the realization that someone had been terrorizing and threatening his children. Someone who, if he ran into them, was about to find out what happened if you went after-
"Ya lookin' for me?"
In one fluid motion Ford spun around, crossbow raised and pointed at the hulking figure that was standing in the shadows. All he could see of it was the faint gleam of its eyes, reflected in the firelight of the room behind them.
"Show yourself!" he demanded, putting his finger on the trigger.
"...And give ya a better target ta aim at? Yeah, I don't think so." The figure made no effort to step closer.
Ford clenched his jaw. "You are in no position to be uncooperative!"
"Oh, and you are?" There was a dark laugh that echoed through the corridor. "Pretty sure I'm the one who's got a right ta be upset that some yahoo's breakin' inta my house and threatenin' me with a crossbow."
"I'm here to rescue these children that you kidnapped!" Ford snapped.
"I didn't kidnap jack!" The figure made a sound that bore a disturbing resemblance to a snarl. "I'm punishing a couple o' trespassers who I caught wanderin' on my property!"
"We told you, we didn't know anyone lived here!" Mabel protested, peering around Ford. "We just needed shelter from the storm, and-and we got attacked by some kind of crazy hill people-"
"KillBillies," Ford corrected automatically, even as his stomach lurched with the thought that the children had been chased by those monstrosities.
"Oh, is that what they're called? We didn't know." She turned back to their kidnapper-sorry, maybe hostage taker was more appropriate. "And we were trying to escape them and wound up here by accident! We weren't trying to trespass!"
"Yeah, that's what they all say." The figure gave an indifferent shrug. "Either way, you came here and messed with my stuff, so now you gotta pay the price."
"I think not." Ford stepped forward, aiming at the dark form. He might not get in a fatal shot if he couldn't see it properly, but it was so big that he at least wouldn't be able to miss hitting something. "I'm going to take the children and leave, right now, and if you try to stop us-"
And suddenly there was a shrill animal's cry right under his feet, as he tripped over something that had been in his path and the crossbow fumbled right out of his hands.
He barely had time to register that it was that fox again, before it lunged forward and sank its teeth into his arm as he tried to grab the crossbow. A second later an enormous, clawed foot had slammed down onto the weapon, both smashing it and pulling it back out of reach.
"Nice work," the figure said. It took Ford a moment to realize that he (possibly? The voice was deep and gravelly enough to sound male) had been addressing the fox, which released his arm and sat back on its haunches with an oddly pleased expression. But then his attention was drawn back to the creature...and as he looked up at it, his mouth dropped open in shock.
"...What are you?"
It was a valid question.
In all his years studying the forest that surrounded Gravity Falls and its unique inhabitants, Ford had never seen a creature like the one that was now standing close enough for him to get a good look.
It-he-was easily seven feet tall, and covered in long, thick gray fur, which upon closer inspection, as Ford slowly got to his feet, appeared to have darker gray stripes, like a tiger's. In fact, as a whole the beast looked like a large, bipedal tiger, but perhaps with some pieces of a bear or a wolf in the shape of the face. He had some tattered black strips of cloth that might once have been clothes draped here and there on his body, and was leaning one paw on a cane with a black knob on the top. Behind him, an enormous tail swished back and forth a few inches above the floor.
Despite himself, Ford was fascinated.
The beast's ears flattened against his head, and his eyes narrowed, as the beginnings of a growl rumbled in his chest.
"You sure know how ta make a guy feel special, huh."
Ford barely heard the comment; he was too busy twisting his head from side to side, marveling at what he was seeing.
"You can obviously walk on your hind legs, but from the way they're bent it seems like you can also be a quadruped if you want to! Isn't that interesting?" His eyes landed on the paw gripping the cane. "And your paws have opposable thumbs, even though from a scientific point of view there would be no need for such a step in your species's evolution! You're a walking contradiction!"
The beast glanced at the children, who had hesitantly edged into the corridor behind Ford. "Are his social skills always this good?"
Despite himself, Dipper shrugged and admitted, "Yeah, pretty much."
That drew Ford's attention back to business.
Right. Children being threatened by beast. Focus.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "...As interesting of a creature as you are, I'm afraid that I can't just let you make these children your prisoners." Even though he was painfully aware that he no longer had the leverage to enforce this, having lost his weapon thanks to the treacherous vulpine still sitting at its master's feet.
The beast snorted, and looked almost amused at his continued defiance. "Hey, from where I'm standing I'm bein' pretty merciful. If it was me breakin' into your house, you'd probably have half the countryside comin' after me with torches and pitchforks already. I was just gonna put 'em ta work for a few months."
...Put like that, it didn't sound all that unreasonable.
All the same, he felt the need to correct, "I would not have half the countryside coming after you! I would come after you all by myself!"
"Gee thanks, that makes me feel so much better."
Before Ford could think of a suitable retort, the beast reached out one massive paw and grabbed him by the back of his coat, lifting him off the floor. "Now, if we've got that all hashed out, you better say your goodbyes ta these two, and make 'em quick."
He turned Ford to face the children, both of whom were staring at him in horror-and, he realized, pleading.
And he heard himself say, "Let me stay here with them."
The beast froze. "Wait, what?"
Ford's mind raced. "I can see we're not going to change your mind about having them stay and work off their supposed-"
The beast growled, and he quickly backtracked.
"-their debt to you, so let me stay and help them with whatever it is you want done. It's an even better deal that way, because then you get three workers instead of just two."
The beast rubbed his chin with the knob of his cane thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling (which the top of his head was close to brushing against anyway). Then his eyes darted back to Ford.
"I dunno...that'd also mean having an extra mouth ta feed, and you're not exactly a spring chicken-"
"Please!" It galled Ford to beg, but he'd tried everything else. "They're my family! They-" sudden, cold realization set in- "...they're all I have left."
To his surprise, something about that seemed to strike a chord with the beast. He let out a soft exhale, and his eyes darted towards the floor uncertainly.
Then, at last, he let out a noise of disgust and dropped Ford to the floor.
"Fine, whatever." He started to turn away, before rounding on Ford again. "But you better not try ta leave before I say, cuz I got all your scents now, and there's nowhere you can run to that I won't find you. Ya got that?!"
Ford swallowed, and glanced at the children. They looked more than a little freaked out by this whole situation, but they nodded at him bravely. He turned back to the beast, and offered his hand.
"You have my word."
The beast blinked, and then reached out and closed his paw around Ford's hand, giving it a softer squeeze than he'd been expecting. The tips of his claws pricked lightly at the skin at the back of his hand before the beast let go.
"Kitchen's downstairs if you're hungry."
And with that he loped off towards the stairs, with the fox at his heels.
Coming up next: our first look into Beast!Stan's POV!