A gentle breeze rocked the net, as the branches supporting it creaked in the chill evening air. Mabel and Pacifica sat in their trap, shoulder to shoulder, shivering.

"Wanna play a game?" asked Mabel, through chattering teeth. Pacifica grunted, and hugged her knees closer to her body.

"I'll start," said Mabel, doing her best to remain her chipper self, despite the circumstances. "I spy with my little eye…something… green!"

Pacifica scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Pine needles."

"Wow, first guess! Good job!" said Mabel. "Let me try again. I spy with my little eye…something brow—"

"Branches," said Pacifica.

"Are you psychic?" whispered Mabel, her eyes wide.

"Mabel—there is nothing around us but branches and pine needles," said Pacifica, her tone haughty. "We're like, twenty-five or thirty feet in the air. There is nothingelse to spy."

"Okay, then," said Mabel. "How 'bout a word game?"

"No," said Pacifica, resting her forehead against her knees. "Mabel, nobody knows we're out here. We don't have any food or water. On top of that, it's freaking freezing out. Has it occurred to you that we could dieup here?"

Always one to look on the bright side, Mabel grinned slightly, her braces glinting in the moonlight filtering down through the treetops. "Well, at least we won't die alone!"

Pacifica groaned in frustration. "Why did I let you talk me into this? This is so stupid. As hot as your brother is now, I should just keep away from both of you—if we make it down from here alive, that is. You two are nothing but trouble. First a portal to other dimensions and a demon triangle, and now all this nonsense with gods and the 'Green Realm'…whatever the hell that is. I am so over this."

Mabel didn't say anything, but sniffled and wiped her cheek on the sleeve of her Grunkle's oversized trench coat.

"Are you—oh come on, Mabel," said Pacifica, sounding irritated and guilty at the same time. "You're not cryingare you?"

"No," lied Mabel, turning her face away from her friend.

"Ugh…look, I'm sorry, okay?" said Pacifica. "It's just, yeah, you've been in tough situations before, but think about it. Someone—be it your brother, one or both of your Grunkles, or even Wendy—has always rushed in to save the day, somehow. But now your Grunkles are gone, and Dipper and Wendy are in Narnia…or whatever. Who's going to save you this time?"

Mabel opened her mouth to speak, when she heard a familiar grunt coming from the forest floor. She looked down through the net and beamed. "Waddles!"

/

"This is preposterous! You have absolutely no claim on him! He's not even from your pantheon!" boomed a deep, male voice.

"According to my brother, he's not actually from your pantheon, either," said a smooth, husky female voice.

Dipper sat up, blinking. He was lying on a floral print sofa, in a darkened living room with which he was completely unfamiliar. There was a large television across the room. A cartoon flickered on the screen, but Dipper couldn't identify it. In any case, it was muted. Standing in the doorway, which presumably led outside, were two shadowy forms, arguing.

"Well—no… but a god from my pantheon is responsible for his ascendance!" claimed the male.

The female chuckled. "That may be so, Arawn, but his irresponsibility got the boy killed. He turned the boy into a god, and said 'off you go, have some adventures!' without divulging some fairly important details."

"Be that as it may," Arawn said, clearly irritated, "His soul belongs in Annwn. Not with you."

Their conversation was disconcerting, to say the least. Killed? His soul? Dipper looked down at himself, and had to stifle a yelp. He was transparent.

"Bluster and rave all you want, honey," said the female, sounding amused. "You know the rules of the Dead Realms are fairly flexible, and usually boil down to one thing. Finders. Keepers."

Arawn let loose a string of unintelligible language, which Dipper assumed included a lot of swearing. The female simply laughed, opened the door, and pushed him outside. Just before she shut the door in his face, he shouted "This isn't over!" She blew a raspberry in response.

The woman turned from the door, and saw that Dipper was awake. She smiled warmly at him. She had long, raven hair, and a tall, slender build. A shimmering black robe was draped over her graceful form. Her face was stunningly gorgeous—on the right side. The left side of her face appeared to be in a state of decay. The empty eye socket was especially alarming.

"Oh, hello!" she said brightly. "I'm Hel. You're called Dipper, right?"

Dipper nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a squeak came forth. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Am I dead?" he managed to ask.

Hel nodded. As she moved to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from Dipper, the smell of sickness and rotting wafted from her. "No doubt you have some questions," she said.

"Uh, yeah," said Dipper. "First—how am I dead? I thought gods were immortal!"

Hel rolled her eye and sighed. "Thisis what I was talking about. Your mentor was very irresponsible to not tell you this: Gods are… mostly…immortal. They don't age (unless they want to look different), they don't succumb to mortal illnesses, and cannot be killed by mortal weapons. Butgods can be killed by other gods. Do you remember what brought you here?"

"You mean how—how I died?" asked Dipper. His heart sank. He did remember.

Hel nodded. "Fen told me to be on the lookout for a young, newly minted satyr-god. Said you'd probably be coming through soon, because you're ignorant and reckless. I'm assuming you fought another god, and lost?"

"Hold up—Fen? Do you mean Fenrir?" asked Dipper.

"Yes, the Great Wolf," confirmed Hel. "He's my brother."

"Oh," said Dipper.

Hel snapped her fingers impatiently. "Your death? How?"

Dipper looked at, or rather through, his hands. "I ran at the Lord of the Hunt. With a sword. He retaliated."

Hel tried to disguise her laugh as a cough. "With a sword, you ranat the god of hunters… who wields a rangedweapon? What in Helheim made you do that?!"

"I did it…" Dipper felt his throat closing on the words. "I did it because his betrothal had just been announced. To mygirlfriend." He paused and took a deep breath. "I…I was willing to become a satyr—and a god—so I could enter the Green Realm and rescue her after she had been kidnapped. And when I finally found her, she was kissing some dude with antlers. She looked so happy to be getting engaged to him." Dipper clenched his jaw at the memory. The sight of Wendy so blissfully happy, as if she had completely forgotten about Christmas Eve, and about how much Dipper loved her, had skewed his judgment terribly. And now he was dead.

Hel was quiet for a moment, trying to process everything he'd said. "So you wanted to kill this god because your girlfriend cheated on you with him?" she asked, finally. "It doesn't sound like he's at fault."

Dipper felt his chest tighten. "Wendy would never cheat on me! At least…I thought…" he trailed off, utterly devastated. "She said she loved me."

Hel felt bad for the pitiful young satyr. In the short conversation she'd had with her brother about him, Fenrir had made it clear that the boy's intentions were pure, even if his methods were a little unorthodox. Fenrir had always been a good judge of character, and something about this new god had impressed him so much that he wanted Hel to give the boy a do-over.

"She may yet love you," said Hel softly. Dipper looked up, hopeful. "Please understand, this is conjecture on my part," she amended. "I do not know all the gods of your Celtic pantheon. However, I know that gods of fertility often have ways to…manipulate… their chosen lovers. You said this Lord of the Hunt had antlers? Those cheeky Celts always were fond of phallic symbolism…if he is indeed also a fertility god, your girlfriend might not have control over her actions in regards to him."

Dipper felt relief for a split second, because there was a chance Wendy still loved him. The relief was short-lived, however, as the reality of what Hel said set in. Then he felt sick. "So he might be…doing things to her…without her consent?" His vision began to take on a red tinge again.

Hel leaned forward and rested her hand on Dipper's. "Breathe. Please, try and calm yourself. As I said, it is possible—but it is also conjecture. Now listen to me Dipper. Are you paying attention?"

Dipper looked into Hel's good eye, and nodded.

"My brother has really taken a liking to you. Fenrir isn't easy to impress, but you've somehow managed to do so. It was on his instructions that I claimed your soul upon your death—because he wants me to grant you a second chance. I intend to." She paused when she saw the look of grim determination settle onto Dipper's features. "Promise me that you will use it wisely. Think before you act. And for gods' sake, learn how to use ranged weaponry. Running directly at a god whilst wielding only a short-ranged weapon is suicide. As you've discovered."

Dipper nodded fervently. "I promise. Thank you so much—"

Hel smiled. "Thank my brother. Oh, also, one more teensy thing, before I send you back into your body. If I do this for you, you must agree to grant me, at a time which is up to my discretion, one favor. Any favor I ask of you. Will you agree to that?"

"Yes, of course!" said Dipper. "Anything!"

"Very well," said Hel. She gripped his hands in hers, and bowed her head. Everything went black.

/

Waddles craned his chubby neck to stare up at the two girls hanging in a net above him. He oinked softly.

"You have gotto be kidding me," muttered Pacifica, crossing her arms. "The pig?"

"Waddles, can you do the Lassie thing and go for help?" Mabel called down to him.

Waddles blinked his beady eyes at Mabel, then turned his head, and grunted softly.

"Are you sure?" asked a familiar voice, whose owner was still hidden in the trees.

Waddles grunted again, more insistently this time.

Arden stepped out of the forest, dressed once again in her jeans and flannel. There was no sign of her antlers either. She sighed, and knelt down, placing her hand on top of Waddles' head. "I am trusting you, my friend. I hope you are right." Pulling a small hatchet from her belt, Arden walked over to the base of the tree from which Mabel and Pacifica hung suspended, and cut the rope anchoring the net.

"Wait, we'll faAAAAAHHHHHH," cried Mabel, as the net, and its screaming contents dropped with a thud to the forest floor.

Mabel continued shrieking as she kicked and pulled at the net, trying to climb out from it. She didn't notice, until she had finally succeeded in escaping the web of rope, that Pacifica was laying completely still, in a crumpled heap, still tangled in the net.

"Pacifica?" she said softly, her breathing becoming more rapid. "Paz?!" She dropped to her knees, and tore the mess of rope off her friend. Pacifica's eyes were closed, her skin pale. A trickle of blood seeped from a gash on her temple, where she'd landed on a rock.

"No!" cried Mabel. She felt Pacifica's neck, picking up a faint pulse. Arden leaned against a tree trunk, her hands in her pockets. Mabel marched over to her, and poked her in the chest.

"Look what you did!" she cried, pointing to Pacifica. "We just wanted to know more about you! We didn't mean any harm! But you," spat Mabel, "you trapped us… didn't care if falling from that high might hurt us. You're a monster!" She reached up and smacked Arden's face as hard as she could.

Although a red handprint immediately formed on her cheek, Arden ignored the assault on her person. Her eyes flicked down to Pacifica's prone form, then over to Waddles. A small smile played on her lips. "You were right," she said, chuckling. "She will do just fine."

Mabel looked down at Waddles, who snorted and sniffed her foot. Her face was a mask of confusion. "What are you talking about? You know what, it doesn't matter. I have to get Paz to the hospital."

Arden shook her head and took her hands out of her pockets. "She will not need a hospital when I am done with her." She moved toward Pacifica, but Mabel stepped in front of her, fists clenched.

"No! I won't let you kill her!" she cried, tears forming in her eyes.

Arden cocked her head to the side. "Who said anything about killing her?"

Mabel blinked uncertainly. "Y-you did… you said she won't need a hospital when you're done with her!" Waddles oinked and nudged her leg reassuringly.

Arden broke out into a grin. "Did I not say it right? She will not be in need of a hospital because I am going to heal her."

"I… uh," said Mabel. "Oh."

Arden patted Mabel on the head, and stepped around her. Kneeling down next to Pacifica, she placed her hand over the gash on the side of the blonde's forehead. A soft golden glow emanated from under her palm, and when she removed her hand, both the gash, and its accompanying blood had disappeared. Pacifica blinked, and sat up slowly.

"Where are we?" she asked, yawning.

"We went for a hike, and when we sat down to rest, you got tired and fell asleep," said Arden, soothingly smoothing Pacifica's long blond hair with her hand.

Pacifica nodded sleepily. "Okay... can we go home now? I really want to go to bed."

"Waddles will lead you home. He knows the way," said Arden, her soft voice almost hypnotic. "Mabel and I wanted to hike a little further."

Pacifica yawned again, and stood up. "M'kay. Come on Waddles. Bye guys," she said, waving a hand at them.

Mabel watched, jaw agape, as her friend was swallowed up in the shadows of the surrounding trees.

"You see, Mabel? Pacifica is fine. She will not even remember falling—or seeing me in my goddess form," said Arden, with a wink.

"Who areyou?" asked Mabel, finally able to find her voice.

"Come, sit," said Arden, as she sat against the base of the large tree, and patted the ground next to her. Mabel sat, hugging her knees, and stared at the goddess, waiting.

"My name is Arduinna." She paused expectantly, but Mabel just gazed at her blankly. The goddess scowled. "Of course you wouldn't know who I am. No one does anymore."

"So…Arduinna… what kind of goddess are you?" asked Mabel. "Like, you represent something…or it represents you… mythology was never my strong suit."

"You may continue to call me Arden, if you'd like. I am The Huntress, and Protector of the Sacred Wild. That is why I have come to Gravity Falls. The realms have shifted, creating an unstable nexus point on the Gravnemeta. Until balance is restored, I must act as sentinel, lest your world be overwhelmed by beings intruding from the Otherworld."

When Arden finally paused for a breath, she noticed Mabel had gone slightly cross-eyed.

"Uhhh…I understood the words Huntress and Protector," the younger girl said finally. "But the rest of that… nope. It's too bad Dipper isn't here. He could probably translate for me."

"Yes, you've spoken a great deal about your brother," said Arden, smiling. "I, too, have a brother whom I care for deeply. But where is he? It sounds like you two are not often apart."

"Well, if I had known you were a goddess, I probably would have told you sooner," said Mabel. "He's in the Green Realm."

Arden raised her eyebrows in surprise. "But how is that possible? Humans may not enter the Green!"

Mabel sighed. "It's a long story. Basically, his girlfriend is part tree, and was kidnapped by some green dude, so in order to save her, Puck turned Dipper into part goat, part god, and off he went. Oh, and my friend, Grenda (she's part troll)—she went with him."

Arden's eyes widened. "Okay, two things… first: is this 'dude' that kidnapped the part tree girlfriend called the Green Man?"

Mabel nodded.

"Oh dear," said Arden, chewing on a fingernail. "Second: did you say Puckis here?" Mabel nodded again.

"Do you happen to know where I can find him?" asked Arden hopefully.

"Nope, sorry," said Mabel. "Not a freaking clue."

Arden sighed. "It was worth a shot."

The sat in silence for a moment, until Mabel spoke up. "Okay, we got kind of sidetracked talking about Dipper, but back to the Gravelmentos, and realms shifting and whatnot…"

"Gravnemeta," Arden corrected Mabel, giggling. "It means the sacred grove of Gravity Falls."

"Then why didn't you just say 'sacred grove of Gravity Falls'?" asked Mabel.

"Because it is called the Gravnemeta," said Arden simply.

"Right," said Mabel. "Moving along. When you say realms, do you mean, like, dimensions?"

Arden shook her head. "No. Dimensions are completely outside our reality. All the realms are in this same reality. They touch and overlap, and gods and some magical creatures can travel between different realms—but they are all in this dimension."

"Huh," said Mabel. "I think I understand. But what did you say about them shifting and having to protect the Grav-ne-meta?" she asked, slowing down to try and properly pronounce the last word.

Arden leaned her head back against the tree, and looked at the sliver of starry sky visible through the canopy of the forest. "Soap bubbles," she said finally.

"Uh, what?" said Mabel.

"The realms are like soap bubbles, all clustered together. Not all realms touch each other, but there is usually one common realm that is touched by all the others. The center bubble. That used to be the Green Realm, but there has been a shift—and the Mundane Realm has now become the center bubble. The other realms all meet, specifically, at the Gravnemeta. I am here to protect the Mundane Realm from hostile creatures that may try to enter from other realms."

"That makes…a kind of sense, I guess," said Mabel slowly. "But if you're here to guard the Gravnemeta, why have you been spending so much time at the Mystery Shack with us?"

Arden grinned. "I have a special place in my heart for pigs and boars. Your Waddles is a very smart pig. He noticed my presence in your woods, and called out to me. I explained to him the task I have been set, and he told me it sounded like I could use some help, and he knew just the person for the job. He told me he knew someone with a loyal nature, a kind heart, and a wild spirit—he said her name was Mabel."

Mabel blushed. "I know someone who's getting extra treats when I get home."

Arden rested a hand on Mabel's arm. "He was right about you. It is very clear that you are loyal, and protective of those you love. You are kind-hearted—but also very spirited. You are the perfect candidate to be anointed Priestess of Arduinna, and Champion of the Gravnemeta."

Mabel let out a nervous giggle. "Oh."

/

The aftermath of the brawl at the Green Man's court was chaotic. It took nearly all the Green Guard, and the Green Man himself to take Fenrir down. He was bound and muzzled with vines, and carried to the dungeon. The two guards tasked with hauling Dipper away were not sure what to do with his limp, lifeless body, so they just threw it into the dungeon along with Fenrir.

Upon recognizing Dipper, and then watching him bleed out right in front of her, Wendy collapsed, screaming and sobbing. Bork, who had jumped down from her shoulder and hidden under the table when the fight broke out, tried to console her, but her sobs were unintelligible, so he was not sure of the right thing to say. Clearly the satyr's attack had upset her, but he did not understand why she was so distraught. Fearing that Wendy was injured, Cernunnos picked her up and carried her back to her chambers. Her heartbroken wails echoed throughout the palace.

Grenda used the chaos of the situation to her advantage. Nobody noticed as she shoved a tiny, angry, bearded man into a backpack, and dragged it along behind her, following Cernunnos as he carried Wendy through the winding halls of the palace back to her rooms. Luckily, Wendy's screams of grief drowned out the muffled cursing coming from within the backpack.

Once she saw Cernunnos enter Wendy's chambers, Grenda was unsure of how to proceed. Dipper was better at this sort of thing.

"Dipper, you idiot," she sighed quietly. She heard the door to Wendy's rooms open, so she quickly hid behind a column. Cernunnos walked out, rubbing his cheek, which was decorated with a brand new, bright red, Wendy-hand-sized print.

Grenda grinned. "Alright, Wendy!" She watched Cernunnos until he was out of sight, and then tried to open Wendy's door. It was locked.

"Crap." Grenda unzipped the backpack about an inch, and whispered into it "Bacon, what do I do? How do I get in?"

"I dunno," said the clurichaun sourly. "Pretend ye're a maid or sommat."

Grenda shrugged, and zipped the backpack up again. She cleared her throat, and knocked on Wendy's door three times. Then, in a shrill, high pitched falsetto, she sang out "Housekeeping?"

A few seconds later, the door opened, but Grenda didn't see anyone, so she walked in. She tripped over Bork, and went down, nearly landing on the backpack.

"ARGH! TOO MANY SMALL PEOPLE!" she shouted, as she stood back up, her temper stretched to its limit.

"Gr-Grenda?!"

Wendy jumped from her bed upon hearing the familiar voice, and ran into her front room, where she tackled Grenda with a hug, and began sobbing into her shoulder.

Grenda winced, and looked questioningly down at the brownie she had tripped over. He just raised his eyebrows and shrugged. She awkwardly patted Wendy's back.

"There, there?" she said.

Wendy pulled away from Grenda, her eyes bloodshot, her face red and blotchy. "I-I just can't believe Dipper's gone," she said, her chin trembling, tears continuing to cascade from her eyes. The look he gave me just before he…" she sobbed into her hands. "He-he had to have seen me kiss Cernunnos. He died thinking I didn't love him anymore!"

Grenda stared at Wendy in shock. All she had seen was Dipper being dragged away to the dungeons.

A muffled screech came from the backpack. "Died?!"

Bork looked at Grenda, his eyes wide. "Your pack is shouting."

Grenda sighed and unzipped the pack. Bacon climbed out in a huff, his hair and beard disheveled.

"What's this about 'died'?" he asked. "Dipper didn't go and get himself killed, did he? Tricksters are supposed to be smart gods!"

It was Wendy's turn to look shocked. "Tricksters? Gods? Wha-how?" she asked, her voice shaking. "I mean, he looked different… like an older, satyr version of himself… but a god?"

"Yeah," said Grenda. "A god. When you got kidnapped, he got himself changed into Puck's, um, intern, I guess? So he could get into the Green Realm to rescue you."

"So… maybe he's not really dead, then?" said Wendy hopefully. She leaned down to Bork. "Please go to the dungeons and check on him… and tend his wounds…if he's alive."

Bork nodded, and rushed from the room.

Wendy sank down onto a carved wooden bench, her hands shaking. She didn't want to let herself feel any hope, because she knew she'd be all the more crushed if Dipper really did turn out to be dead.

Bacon wandered around the room, looking at the fancy furnishings. He was acting more annoyed at Dipper than upset.

Grenda unstrapped her maul and set it aside, so that she could join Wendy on the bench.

"So, what do we do if he's not dead?" asked Grenda.

"The satyr that attacked us is most definitely dead," said Cernunnos, as he strolled into the room. "I came to check on you, Wendy. You gave us all quite a scare. Who are your friends?"

Wendy ignored the question. "He's a god—gods are immortal, right? So he couldn't have died."

Cernunnos raised an eyebrow. "He's not any god I've ever met before. Even still, gods are immortal, with the exception that they can be killed by other gods. My aim was true. He is dead."

Wendy doubled over, her sobs beginning anew. Grenda shot Cernunnos a dirty look, and scooted over on the bench to put an arm around Wendy's shoulders.

"Nice one, jackass," spat Bacon.

Cernunnos looked bewildered. "I—I don't understand your grief, Wendy. The satyr was attacking us. I even gave him fair warning. Why are you behaving this way?"

"B-because tha-that was Dipper!" Wendy managed to force out between sobs. "H-he was coming t-to rescue me…heard our f-fake be-betrothal…sa-saw us kiss…" She couldn't force any more words out. She pressed her fist against her mouth, her whole body shaking.

Cernunnos blanched. "I don't know what to say," he said softly. "I had no way of knowing…" He crouched down in front of Wendy, and placed a hand on her knee. "I am so so—"

Wendy cut off his apology with a shriek of "Don't you fuckingtouch me!" as she shoved him away, and jumped up, running into her bedchamber, and slamming the door shut behind her.

Grenda held her head in her hands. "So… what now?" she asked nobody in particular.

"I don't know about you," said Bacon seriously, "but I could really, reallyuse a drink."

/

Dipper gasped, filling his empty lungs to capacity. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. He was laying on a straw pallet in a dim, damp, stone room. He sat up, and immediately regretted it.

"Owww," he groaned, clutching his head. "Being dead was less painful than this."

If you're not happy here, I can arrange to have you sent back to Hel.

Dipper, jumped. He looked around the room. Fenrir had reverted back to Fenris. The shaggy black dog was laying in the corner on a pile of vines. When Dipper made eye contact with him, he opened his mouth wide in a doggie grin, and thumped his tail happily on the floor.

"Funny guy," said Dipper, rolling his eyes. "But seriously, thanks for the safety net there, buddy. I was, uh, not aware that gods can be killed by other gods."

Yeah, I figured that out right about the time you started running at Cernunnos with a sword in your hand. You're lucky my telepathic connection to my sister still works from other realms.

Dipper nodded, then glanced down at the deep holes in his shoulder and chest. "Oh, ew… I can see a bit of my insides," he said with a grimace.

Luckily, gods are quick healers. Slap a bandage on those, and in a week they'll be nothing more than cool scars to show off to your girlfriend.

"If I even still have a girlfriend, I doubt she'd be interested in these scars," remarked Dipper. "Seeing as, you know, she saw me get them."

So you are concerned about your Wendy's betrothal, I take it?

Dipper frowned. "You could say that. Either Wendy is actually happy here, and wants to marry him, or he has her brainwashed and is taking advantage of her. I'm not particularly happy with either option."

"What if there was a third option?" a small voice spoke up.

Dipper looked around frantically. "Who?"

"Over here," said the brownie. He was pulling himself carefully through the bars on the door.

Fenris walked over to the brownie, and gave him a good sniff. This was the one at the table with your Wendy.

"My name is Bork," said the brownie, pulling a bottle of salve and some cloth bandages out of his pocket. "Wendy thought she watched you die, but she sent me down to tend your wounds, just in case she was wrong."

"I did die," said Dipper. Bork frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Well…I got better," Dipper mumbled.

"Lie back," instructed the brownie, and he began bandaging the young satyr.

"So, this third option you mentioned," said Dipper, wincing slightly as the salve stung his wounds. "I'm interested in hearing what it is."

"Wendy is neither brainwashed by Master Cernunnos, nor is she in love with him. The betrothal is a sham," explained Bork.

Dipper's heart leapt. "But why?" he asked.

Bork sighed. "It is a bit of a long story, and not mine to tell—but I will give you the quick version. Wendy discovered that her mother has been trapped here, in her tree form, for the past six years. Cernunnos was going to help Wendy escape, but now she refuses to go without her mother. The problem is that we do not know how to break Wendy's mother free of her tree form, which the Green Man has used to imprison her." He leaned back, and patted Dipper's finished bandages. "All set."

Dipper sat back up. "So…if that's the case… what now?"

Perhaps Bork could relay a message from you to Wendy. Something along the lines of "Hi, honey. I'm not dead."

Dipper nodded his head. "But maybea bit more detailed than that. Bork, if I write Wendy a letter, will you take it to her?"

"Of course!"

Dipper instantly conjured a pen and some paper. He found a flat surface, and began to write.

Dear Wendy,

So, I have a lot of explaining to do…