& brand the ground with storm and song — ii
Floating down from the sudden stormfront, the mysterious figure above draws closer, somehow buoyed aloft by the wind.
It's roughly human-sized. Dipper at first thinks it's a bear, maybe, or… an owl with antlers? A huge, antlered owl? No—it is a person. They are draped from head to toe in furry animal skins and feathers, complete with a bizarre helmet which is made of the same woven construction as the platform and is surmounted by a pair of buck antlers.
When the floating nest is hovering about five feet over the concrete outside the changing rooms, the roar of the wind lessens. The platform falls to the ground with a loud crunch and the person loses their balance for a second, arms windmilling before they regain their footing.
Grunkle Stan has left his spot at the far end of the pool and is now standing next to Dipper. "Kid, you didn't summon a hairy antlered owl man, did you?"
"I did not," Dipper says, completely taken aback.
Their balance restored, the antlered person spreads their arms high, a staff of wicker and bone in one hand. Then, in a voice like thunder which is somehow amplified and echoed by the wind, they roar, "BEHOLD! I HAVE BROUGHT THE ST— wait."
The owl-thing, now revealed by his words to be a man, shakes his staff like he's trying to get it to work. He proceeds to slap it on the disk a few times the way one would a malfunctioning television remote.
"You wanna say something, or should I?" Stan asks Dipper.
"Uh…" Dipper clears his throat and addresses the antlered man. "Excuse me, are you—"
"BEHOLD!" This time the man's staff releases a shockwave of air that forces everyone back a step and sends a fine mist of pool water over Dipper, Pacifica, and Stan. "I HAVE BROUGHT THE STORM TO YOUR VERY DOOR! DO YOU WRETCHES NOT TREMBLE BEFORE THE MIGHT OF THE WENDIGO?"
"Our door?" Stan says, looking around. "This is public property, pal."
"You're a Wendigo?" Dipper says, intrigued.
"JUST SO!" The man bellows. "BEHOLD ME IN MY TEMPESTUOUS GLOR—you're saying it with an 'I,' right? Win-digo?"
"That's… what I said?"
"Right, but it's with an 'I.' Like wind? It's my thing. I control the— well, I'll get to that— BEHOLD ME IN MY TEMPESTOUS GLORY! OH, HOW YOU HAVE TREMBLED BENEATH MY STORMS!"
"Ha ha… Okay, that's awesome," Mabel says from the water. "What a show! Do you think you could make it warm again? See, we're here to swim today—"
"BEHOLD!" The Windigo raises his staff and the clouds overhead grow darker still. "I, WHO CONTROL THE WIND! I, WHO CONTROL THE STORM! LOOK UPON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!"
"Hey, you stole that line," Dipper protests.
"Wait a minute," Pacifica says, "you're the reason we had that storm last night?"
"HA HA HA! HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE BOWED BENEATH MY LIMITLESS POWER? ARE YOU NOT READY TO KNEEL? WILL YOU NOT GROVEL, YOU WORMS WHO FLEE MY FLOOD?"
Dipper looks at his friends and family, all of whom appear equally unimpressed.
"I mean, the rain hasn't been that bad," Mabel says.
"Heck, I like the rain," Dipper adds.
Pacifica examines her nails with an air of apathy tinted by contempt. "If the best you can do is interrupt my beauty sleep, then you're not really much of anything, are you."
Stan just shrugs. "That's your power, huh. Making things moist."
"Who are you calling a worm? Come down here and say that!" Grenda says aggressively.
"Worms cannot swim, and we are swimming," Candy reasons. "You are wrong."
"I CONTROL THE STORM!" the Windigo thunders, unchastised. "I BRING THE POUNDING RAINS!"
"If you were smart you woulda charged for that. Lots of people out there with petunias." Stan's eyes narrow contemplatively. "You thought about going into business? You already look like one of my attractions."
"ENOUGH!" The Windigo slams the end of his staff against his platform and another burst of wind nearly knocks Pacifica's hat off. "IF YOU WILL NOT KNEEL, THEN YOU WILL DROWN!"
"Oh, no, a summer shower!" Stan mocks. "How will I ever stand being damp? Bring it on, bear rug! I'll— uh oh."
Mabel, Candy, and Grenda scramble frantically out of the pool as a wind funnel plunges into it and instantly becomes a whirling waterspout. Dipper readies himself to run, not sure which way to go. The waterspout surges forward; he grabs Pacifica's arm and dives to the left. He loses sight of Grunkle Stan behind the funnel. Grenda picks up Mabel and Candy and barrels straight through the fence at the pool's perimeter.
A hard, driving rain begins to fall, clattering against the concrete. Thunder rolls over the valley and the Windigo laughs as his platform begins to rise.
Dipper is on the ground next to Pacifica, one arm still over her from his attempt to pull her out of harm's way. Her hat is gone, and her hair is plastered to her head. Her eyes are wide with sudden fear.
"What do we do?" she shouts over the roar of the waterspout.
Dipper looks towards the Windigo. The strange man is now a few feet above the ground, his staff raised over his head.
"We've gotta get that staff!" Dipper yells, setting his jaw with determination.
He pushes himself to his feet and starts to run, veering around the edge of the half-empty pool, his feet slapping through puddles. He leaps and catches the lip of the wicker disk, rolling up onto it.
"FOOL!" The Windigo brings his staff down and points it at Dipper, who is instantly trapped in a torrent of wind that sucks the breath from his lungs. "YOU CANNOT OVERCOME THE WINDIGO! MY POWER IS ENDLESS! MY POWER IS ETERNAL! YOU ARE A MERE—"
Dipper doesn't get to find out what he's a 'mere' version of. Pacifica suddenly appears behind the Windigo and charges straight at him. She knocks him off balance, but he retains his grip on his staff; he spins around and points it at her. The wind which emerges is so strong that she falls over sideways and must to hold onto the platform with both hands, pressed flat against it with her hair flapping violently down her back.
Gasping for breath, Dipper forces himself to stand and rushes the Windigo, grabbing the man's arm. The Windigo is a bit bigger than Dipper, but Dipper is quite a bit bigger than he used to be; they are almost evenly matched. They struggle for the staff, staggering all over the disk and nearly falling off it.
"UNHAND ME!" the Windigo demands.
"Give it up, man!" Dipper yells.
He's not sure what happens next, but somehow the staff turns so that it's pointed at the ground. In the same instant, Pacifica recovers and runs to them; her hand is just about to grab the Windigo's furry robes when there's an enormous whoosh and the Windigo, with Dipper in tow, shoots upwards into the air.
"DIPPER!" Pacifica screams, her voice quickly fading as he ascends with incredible speed.
Within seconds, they are at least fifty feet in the air. The wind forms a strange tunnel around them, and they slowly twist in the middle as the cone gathers forward momentum. Dipper doesn't stop trying to take staff, now believing that it's the only chance he has to keep the Windigo from dropping him. The two combatants zoom into the forest, pine needles showering down around them in a brittle rain as their pocket of wind shakes the trees. The Windigo's attention is torn between trying to shove Dipper away and looking upward to steer.
"This is so cool!" Dipper exclaims as he elbows the Wendigo's free arm away and tries to grab the staff. "How does this work?! How are we flying?"
The Windigo seems uninterested in providing answers. "I SAID UNHAND ME, BOY! BOY! BOY."
Dipper just holds on tighter as they whirl past the treetops. "My name…" he swipes at the staff, misses, "…is Dipper!"
The Windigo looks down at him. "Seriously? I thought that girl was making fun of you— OH DANG."
The Windigo looks up just in time to slam directly into a pine tree. Dipper is cushioned from the impact by the Windigo's body; he manages to catch a branch and hold on until it bends him closer to the ground, though the resultant fall still leaves him dazed on the forest floor.
"Ow…" Dipper groans, sitting up slowly.
He's landed in a small clearing. The ground is soft soil strewn with pine needles both brittle brown and springy green. Dipper shakes his shirt a few times—he's covered in the needles, along with a fair amount of sap. He smells like a new air freshener.
The Windigo is spread-eagled a few feet away, facedown. His robes have flapped up to reveal a pair of neon board shorts and his helmet is missing an antler.
"Hey—you're not dead, are you?" Dipper says.
A piece of paper flutters down next to him. He picks it up; it looks like it's from a notebook. There's a name at the top, 'Greg,' followed by a crude drawing of the staff. At the bottom is written 'SUPER TOP SECRET.'
"Uh, is this yours?" Dipper asks, holding up the piece of paper. Although there's no reply, he prudently walks over and picks up the staff. "I'm going to hold on to this."
The rain slows to a stop, though the trees continue to shed drops. Dipper assumes the waterspout is no longer menacing anyone.
The Windigo eventually staggers to his feet with a series of whimpers. "Ohhhhh… Man, where's my other antler?" he whines, feeling for it. "Aw, geez… I look like an idiot."
"It's over, Windigo," Dipper says, brandishing the staff. "Don't do anything crazy, okay?"
The Windigo mostly seems confused. "But, my works, ye mighty. Yeeeeeee. You. …What does a concussion feel like?"
Dipper starts to answer and then pauses, hearing something strange. It's a noise that's growing louder, getting closer. He briefly digs a finger into one ear, wondering if the impact left it ringing.
The Windigo hears it too. "That's not me, is it?"
"raaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" In the middle of a full-throated yell, Grunkle Stan comes plowing through the underbrush with one fist pulled back.
The Windigo points at him with a noticeably wobbly finger. "Oh, hey, it's that guy from the p— OOOOUGH my sack lunch."
Grunkle Stan socks him right in the midsection at full tilt. The Windigo folds up like a wallet and hits the dirt with a thump.
"Got ya!" Grunkle Stan grunts, stepping back. "Guess there's at least one guy around here who hasn't learned not to mess with the Pines. Who is this freakshow?"
"Greg?" Dipper says.
"ATTACK!" someone suddenly yells.
From the other direction comes the sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves and Mabel, Candy, and Grenda jump out into the clearing. They've raided the pool supplies and are covered in various flotation devices as makeshift armor, each brandishing a weaponized pool noodle.
"Come and get it, windbag— oh." Mabel looks down at the limp form of the Windigo. "Sorry, Grenda. He's already been punched."
Grenda looks disappointed. "Should I punch him again? You know, to be sure?"
"Punch out all his evil!" Candy advises.
"Guys, I think he's had enough," Dipper says. "Pretty sure he's concussed, actually."
And then there is yet another crash through the forest growth. Pacifica emerges holding a solid branch like a long sword. "Give me Dipper back, you— oh." She lowers the branch awkwardly. "You're okay."
"Mostly. Turns out he's not so great at flying. Or at least not when I'm tagging along," Dipper says.
"Alright, what's your deal, pal?" Grunkle Stan asks the Windigo. "Give me one good reason to spare the rest of your stuffing."
The Windigo reaches into his voluminous hides. "Spare staff," he wheezes, pulling out a bone wrapped tightly with wicker.
"What? No, I said spare your stuffing. It's a, I don't know, metaphor or whatever. It sounds dumb if you make me explain it!" Grunkle Stan says resentfully.
With a sharp clap, a gust of wind swoops into the clearing and lifts the Windigo back into the air. He vanishes into the dark sky like a ragged raven, and seconds later the clouds begin to lighten.
"Which way did he go? Was it north? Did anyone else see?" Dipper says excitedly, pulling out his journal and a pen. "It was north, right?"
"It looked like he was flying towards the north cliffs," Candy observes.
"Could he be hiding there…?" Dipper mutters, tapping the pen against his teeth. "But why? And how is he doing all of this?"
"He's a wizard!" Grenda says.
"Or a mad scientist," Candy supposes.
"With a killer Summerween costume!"
"Maybe he's not wearing a costume!" Mabel suggests.
"You mean he's actually a bear-owl-deer?" Grenda gasps.
"A browldeer."
Dipper shakes his head. "He's not. I saw his shorts."
"He's a stupid wad and he talks like a dork and he ruined my hair!" Pacifica laments. Her blonde locks are a rain-matted, windblown mess.
"Dipper, make us fly with the staff!" Mabel says. She runs over and wraps her arms around him. "Fly, my pretty! Go! Take off! Up up and away! To infinity and—"
"I don't know how to work this thing," Dipper admits. He gives the staff an experimental shake to no result. "Maybe Great-Uncle Ford will know what it is."
They gather up and head back to the pool. The whole area is more or less destroyed, with several trees knocked down and the water in the pool sitting low, filled with leaves and pine needles. Mr. Poolcheck looks like he's in the midst of a quadruple aneurysm and they quietly file past without drawing his attention. When they get back to the car, they discover that they left some of the windows down.
Grunkle Stan pulls open the driver door and a small wave of brown water pours over his feet. "Aw, come on!"
It's a very soggy ride home. The seats squish beneath them and the whole car smells like chlorine. The only upside from Dipper's perspective is that Pacifica is riding on his lap again. She's fighting with her tangled hair, trying to salvage it with her fingers. He has the feeling she'll be disappearing into the bathroom for quite a while.
He's been looking at the staff more closely. It's made from wicker and bones, though he's pretty sure they aren't human bones. He hadn't seen it before with all that had been going on, but at the top of the staff there's a crystal enmeshed in wire, attached by fine holes drilled through the topmost bone. There doesn't seem to be electronic or mechanical. Dipper is almost certain that it's magical, which is exciting. He doesn't remember anything like it being in the journals.
Well, whatever it is, there's no one more likely know than Ford.