Wybie was the first to wake up, finding himself curled up against Norman for warmth during the night. Slightly embarrassed, he eased his way out of the bed and, finding everyone asleep, made his way out to the hallway. Being the lightfooted boy he was, he walked all the way down the stairs and out the front door without anyone waking up. Barefoot and wearing his pajamas, he made his way to the opening of the woods behind the house that he and Coraline had cut through the night before to get to the Bluebird Inn as quickly as possible.
They both had ran as fast as they could in fear last night, despite the actual woods not giving off any ill-intention. Now, though he couldn't see the woods, he got an eerie feeling in that direction. Putting his relaxing outdoor excursion behind, he stepped into the lush grass.
The grass smelled strong and the dew soaked the bottoms of his pants legs as he walked. The sun had risen at least a few hours ago but everyone was exhausted from the night before, and rightfully so. However, Wybie had never been one to sleep very well.
At this time of morning he usually took a walk but with the danger going on he settled with staying in the yard. The closer he got to the woods, the heavier his feet felt and the more he wanted to go back inside.
At the treeline of the woods his hair stood on end, a primal instinct that something was inside the woods. He could practically feel it watching him. Whatever it was.
When he took another step forward he paused at the sight of a boy about his age walking with purpose away from him through the brush and disappearing in the thicket.
Wybie thrust ahead to pursue the figure, wanting to demand why he was spying on the inn. However, upon seeing thick tendrils of poison oak and thorned vines in his path, he returned towards the house.
He wondered after the boy deeply enough that when he walked back in through the front door he bumped into the guests as they prepared to leave.
"Sorry," he muttered, helping them right the suitcase he nearly knocked over. He held the door open as they left and closed and locked it quietly behind them. All the guests gone. Just Wirt and all the kids left.
He turned his head towards the direction of the woods, body still facing the door.
"Up and out already, Wybie? You should be staying in the house." Wirt chided, leaning his temple on the check-in desk. "What's that spacey look for?"
"Saw some guy watching the house from the woods, or least I think it was a guy. I didn't see their face." Wybie whispered, "But I don't wanna jump to conclusions."
Wirt's face grew serious, "Don't go outside again. We can't take any chances. The second you cross that threshold all the talismans and charms I have guarding the house are useless to you. Anything you need from town I can bring to you."
Wybie nodded, more out of habit than actually listening to what Wirt said. He was irritated he was going to lose his freedom to roam around like he was used to, but remembered that odd figure again and laid on the couch prepared to take a nap. Wybie's body felt heavy from the adrenaline kick he got at the treeline.
The more he tried to remember the features of the person he saw, the more the colors and shapes in his mind seemed to lose form. He couldn't even remember the shade of their skin, or the color of their hair, or even if it really was a boy.
"I'm going to go in the book mobile and get some books from the library," Wirt handed Wybie a cordless landline phone and checked his pockets for his wallet and keys. "Any emergency, call me. Even if it's about Gregg trying to sneak out to catch frogs again, I wanna know about it, okay?"
"Yeah," Wybie sighed, his nap was going to have to wait until Wirt returned. "Thanks."
"I really am sorry about you guys having to stay here, I just want you all to be safe."
"I know," Wybie muttered, scratching his ear. "Mind if I call my grandma?"
"Call whoever you need to, just minimize 800, 900, and international calls."
"Right," Wybie half-smiled, rolling his eyes. "O-kay."
"Good boy," Wirt clicked his tongue with a wink and finger-pistol.
"You're turning into a middle-aged-dad overnight." Wybie advised, "You might want to regain your youth before everyone wakes up or you'll never hear the end of it."
"Right," Wirt nodded curtly, "be back in a bit. Don't leave the house."
"I won't." Wybie assured. "Now go- unless you want me to make charred eggs for breakfast."
Wirt shuddered, muttered an assurance and left through the back door.
Wybie made the call to his grandmother who answered on the second ring, assuring her he was safe and telling her about how the house was warded.
"Warded?" she asked, "What the hell does that mean?"
He surpressed a laugh, he rarely heard his grandmother curse anymore.
"Like, enchanted objects with protection spells cast on them- you know, like Great-Aunt Ninny's rosary."
"That's a Catholic thing, it's not 'enchanted'. Her priest gave it to her when-" Wybie could practically see her doing air-quotes as she pattered on with her story.
"It was just an example," Wybie grumbled, cutting her short as he rubbed the bridge of his nose to satiate his irritation.
He loves the woman but it's hard to explain the unexplainable to a woman that spends all day cleaning, cooking, or watching reruns of stand-up comedy routines.
"Anyway, Coraline and I are safe, we will be fine so make sure you don't go out at night. If you go at all, use the car and stick to well-lit roads. If you need anything, I'll head over."
"Be safe Wyborn, okay? I don't wanna lose you like I lost your mama. I can't go through that again."
"Of course, Grams... If I died I couldn't eat your cooking anymore." he joked.
"WYBORN PACHU'A LOVAT, WHY I OUGHTA-" Mrs. Lovat screeched.
"Bad joke," Wybie giggled. "Yeah, yeah, I know..."
...
Norman walked in the living room quietly to see Wirt but after taking a look around and noticing Wirt's van gone and Wybie- the only other person awake- on the phone, he figured now would be a good time to catch up with Gregg.
He opened the door with an obnoxious squeak, causing Gregg to bolt upright in bed with a giant, inflated baseball bat in his hand.
"I'll get you cloud ma-!" Gregg yelled, bat at the ready. Realizing who had entered the room, though, lowered the bat. "Oh, hi, Normie. Had a dream about the cloud again."
"You okay, Gregg? You seem different since I saw you last." Norman asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Gregg set the bat down on the floor next to the bed, "Lived with mom and dad when you saw me last."
"Right, sorry." Norman cringed.
"I almost died in The Wood, Normie, it's weird."
"Yeah, that's a traumatic thing."
"What's it feel like, for people to believe you?"
"What do you mean?" Norman shifted his feet, his cousin's sudden seriousness offputting.
"Believe you see ghosts, believe about the zombies, the witch... How does it feel?"
"I don't know... exactly," Norman leaned back into the wall, "most of the people that believe me were there, except for you guys, that's why I moved to California. I had a target on my back worse than before. Became a sideshow attraction. I just... I missed being invisible."
"I miss not knowing things," Gregg whispered, "I miss being dumb."
"You've never been dumb, Gregg, maybe ignorant or naïve..."
"Well, that, then..." Gregg paused, glancing at a stray shoe in the corner of the room. "I miss Jason Funderberker."
"Your frog?"
"Mhm," Gregg smiled, "he left to go be in a kid's movie somewhere. He said he could sing in it, Jazz I think. He had a nice voice, so that's good."
"Gregg?"
"Yeah?"
"You know what me and the others are doing, right?"
Gregg nodded, "None of you are good at talking quiet."
"So will you promise to stay here in the house and stay safe when some or all of us leave to go take care of that Thing?"
"I promise. I have had enough of 'Beasts' for this lifetime. Maybe the pale one and the slouchy one need help looking up stuff."
"Yeah," Norman sighed, relieved he didn't need to convince Gregg, for what it was worth. "You're a good help."
"Thanks, Normie, I try." Gregg then paused, stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Norman. "Everyone's awake now, I hear sets of feet on the stairs."
"Good hearing." Norman praised.
"One of them steps like an elephant."
Norman laughed then listened, hearing loud thumps. "You aren't wrong. Think that's Coraline and her combat boots."
Leaving Gregg's door open, Norman peered into the hall to see Mabel trying on Coraline's heavy boots and, based on the sound of them clomping around on the wooden floor, were clearly too big for Mabel's feet.
Gregg laughed, peeking out from behind Norman, "She looks like a duck."
Mabel waddled, lifting her feet a little too high with every step to get used to the weight of the boots.
"I heard that!" Mabel yelled, causing Gregg to laugh even more.
They all made their way to the kitchen, Wirt walking through the back door with large brown paper bags, one with grease seeping through the side.
"Got everyone some breakfast at the diner and got about 7 books, all I could really find. Sorry, guys." Wirt set his keys on the hook and set the food on the counter, the books on the coffee table. "Dig in."
Apprehensively, everyone took food from the large portions stored in styrofoam to-go containers, the books in the corner of the room weighing down the otherwise pleasant mood.
Eventually, as they ate, they all loosened up enough to talk amongst themselves with varied degrees of attention and mood. Gregg was sneakily picking food off Wirt's plate. Wybie occasionally leaned in to Coraline's ear to whisper over the noise of various conversations. Mable was eating her pancakes into the shapes of woodland creatures then laughing as she'd eat various "limbs".
Norman and Dipper sat beside each other, not really talking to the others outside of occasional comments about the food. Dipper was watching his food as if it held clues. Norman picked and played at his food, only eating a few bites here and there.
Norman and Dipper made eye contact, a heavy sigh and a weak smile being shared. Danger or not, small moments of false security were nice.
The Beast awoke to the chirping of birds outside the opening of the cave. Growling, he buried his head in his arms, nails digging into the dirt floor, coarse hair standing on end. Too loud. Everything was too loud.
The body of the Beast was large and imposing, hunching so its back did not reach the roof of the cave. Hunger ripped at its stomach, pain aching through its body. Opening its mouth to yawn, its yellowed teeth bared wide with gums pink and saliva dripping from its mouth. When stretching its back, it noticed blood coating its paws where it tore into its last victim, brown flakes coating his claws. It licked at the blood, helping to minimally reduce the evidence of its kill.
Soon, it gave up, comfortable by now of the feeling of being caked in blood.
On the other side of the cave, hiding in the shadows from the light of day was a fire that had long since burned to ash. Coating a nail with ash, it drew small images in the ground. A reminder.
"Dead," it growled, the guttural voice vibrating in the quiet cave. "All dead."
A.N.
I am basing Mrs. Lovat on my own grandmother. Although my gran is very fond of calling me... creative names when I'm being ornery ^w^; hehehe
Also the movie Jason Funderberker is in is a reference and if you get it, I will be super proud.