Snow freckled the chilly January day lightly, like powdered sugar over a freshly baked pastry, sticking to each layer effortlessly and creating a blanket that completely covered the woods and the cabin nested between the trees. The atmosphere was still and stiff, like frozen icicles that were not going to start dripping any time soon. The air was bitter and unwelcoming, which was probably why no living thing was outside today. Today was the perfect day to burrow and sleep and keep warm with your own body heat.

A crack through space-time cut through the air. The crushing of tiny ice particles followed as two twelve-year-olds ran, one chasing the other, as the time-tape was heating up and buzzing. "This thing is getting hotter! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!" Mabel attempted to save her palms from burns by bouncing the tiny machine between her hands.

"What are you doing?!" Dipper demanded as Mabel bounced the tape-measure too hard and her twin reached a hand to catch it. He managed to catch it perfectly, like an athlete catching a baseball, and then was gone in a flash of baby-blue lightning.

Mabel's eyes widened in sheer panic and she held her arms as a gust of wind blew and nearly froze her to her core. It felt like her skin was being pricked by mean sewing needles. She looked around wildly for her brother, for him to come back to this time and place immediately, because surely he would use the time machine to come back, but seconds ticked by and she was still alone.

Puffs of smoke decorated the wintry scene as she held her shivering body and looked at the shack. It wasn't as colorful and welcoming and loud as the shack Mabel remembered, but she made herself consider that it was because there was no big sign or tourist-y things, and it was winter. Then a light turned on, the hall if Mabel remembered her summer home correctly, and the door opened.

The hope that Mabel had in her chest of seeing her great-uncle was gone, and replaced with fear and confusion. This man looked very much like Stan, though much younger, quite chubby and youthful, wearing a black t-shirt and blue plaid pajama-pants. He had the same face as a young-Stan, but with a more pink than orange nose, a cleft chin, fluffier hair that reminded Mabel of her's when it was short, and different glasses.

Mabel didn't know what to do or how to react or how to feel. People change a lot when they age, sure, but this much? It was possible this person wasn't Stan, but who else would look so similar to him and live in this house? Maybe this is the guy who lived here before Stan, and they just happen to look very similar. This is Gravity Falls, and though she and Dipper were still new to the town, it was a weird place where something like this could happen.

It also came to Mabel how odd the situation was for the man: a little girl was standing in a sweater and skirt outside his house in the winter. Would he try to send her home? She had no home to go to. She didn't know what year this was, but if it was a time Stan didn't live here, it must have been way before she was born, maybe even before her parents met. She was stranded.

But the man looked at her sympathetically and he seemed kind and worried. He grabbed a trenchcoat and called gently, "Hello. Are you okay?"

Mabel bit her lip. His voice was definitely not Grunkle Stan's. A gust of wind made her shiver and her teeth chatter, and the man stepped into some slippers and walked up to her, draping the trenchcoat over her shoulders. "There there, that's a very nice sweater, but it doesn't seem to be keeping you warm, is it?"

"N-No." Mabel shivered. "I… I used breathable yarn for…" She stopped. She was going to say how she used breathable yarn for the warm California weather, but she decided not to.

"You used?" The man repeated, rubbing her shoulders to try to make the trenchcoat work faster. "You made this?"

Mabel saw his excited grin and she smiled nervously. "Y-Yeah. I knit sweaters."

The man bent his knees in front of her and studied her sweater. She held out an arm so he could see and his brown eyes sparkled. "That's very impressive! I love sweaters!"

Mabel gasped happily. "C-C-Can I m-make you one?!"

The man looked taken back, but chuckled and stood. "Of course, but first let's get you warm. How does hot chocolate sound?"

"Y-Yes, p-p-please." Mabel shivered, and allowed the man to walk her into the house.

It was scaringly like the Mystery Shack, but so much was different. It was the same layout, the same house, but there was so much that was different. A coat rack stood by the door, holding a white lab coat with black rubber gloves in the pocket, some safety goggles like the ones in Mabel's science classes, and Stan's fez. Mabel stared at it. Well, okay it probably wasn't Stan's fez, but it was a maroon fez with a golden fish and a black tassel.

There was a wood-burning stove alive in the living room, with a small box full of wood by it and a tiny stool. Instead of Grunkle Stan's armchair, there was a red-velvet couch, a large writing desk, and the room was decorated with books, desks, papers, and jars and experiments. It was all strange, but warm and cozy with the fire going.

Mabel smiled as the man pulled out the tiny stool and gestured for her to sit by the stove. She obeyed and the coat was removed from her shoulders, but quickly replaced with a dark-green blanket.

"There, do you mind warming up here while I make your hot chocolate?" He asked, draping his trenchcoat over his arm.

Mabel shook her head and held her cold hands in front of the stove. "Thank you."

The man smiled. "You're welcome." And he turned and left for where Mabel knew the kitchen was.

Sitting alone and feeling better as her body was getting warm, Mabel thought it all over. This man was clearly not her Grunkle Stan, but that didn't mean he wasn't nice or couldn't help her. Any minute Dipper was going to come back for her, but until then she had to stay where she was. That's what grown-ups told her to do if she was ever lost. Stay where you are until you're found.

By the time Mabel was very comfortable, the man returned with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and handed one to the girl. "Here you are, my dear."

"Thank you, sir." Mabel sipped and hummed in delight as the man sat on the floor next to her.

"You're very welcome." He sipped his drink and added, "Now then, I have to ask, what were you doing out there? Did you get lost?"

Mabel's face dropped and she nodded. "Uh, huh."

"Hm, very well. That can easily happen when playing on a snow day." The man said with a smile. "Why don't I call our parents and we can arrange to have you back home safe?"

Mabel swallowed nervously. She bit her lip, looking down at her mug. She didn't know what to say to that.

The man looked at her and noticed how scared she was. "Is something wrong?"

Mabel looked up at him, was met with a kind face, and whimpered, "I can't call them."

The man smiled sympathetically. "I'm sure you won't get into too much trouble. Maybe a little, but it's for the best to call them so we can get you home soon."

Mabel shook her head and squeezed her stinging eyes shut. "They're… not around."

The man's face dropped as Mabel scrubbed at her eyes. "Oh. I'm so sorry."

Mabel only replied with a sniff and she sipped her hot chocolate.

"Is there someone I can call for you?" The man asked. "I'm sure there's someone out there worried about you."

Mabel bit her lip. "M-My brother… He's still out there…"

"Is he lost, too?"

Mabel shrugged.

"Well," The man held his cleft chin in thought. "I'm sure he's out there looking for you. Perhaps then you should wait here until he comes here, and then we can send you to your guardian."

"It's just us." Mabel muttered. "Just us."

The man smiled. Mabel hoped he believed her brother was much older than her, or at least old enough to take care of her. That way she wasn't really lying, just letting this man believe what he wanted to believe. Nothing wrong with that. "Okay. Still, you may stay here until he finds you."

Mabel sniffed and wiped her nose with her sweater sleeve. "Thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Ford." He said and held out a hand to her.

Mabel smiled and shook his hand. "I'm Mabel."

"Mabel, huh? That's a beautiful name."

"Thanks." She looked down at their hands and her eyes widened. One, two, three, four, five, s-...

Ford pulled his hand free, his cheeks reddening as he sipped his hot chocolate, but Mabel was grinning at him happily and she gasped with joy, "You have six fingers?!"

Ford blinked at her, reminding Mabel of a startled owl, and he cleared his throat. "Um, y-yes. It's a birth defect."

"Nuh, huh! It's cool! Can I see, please?" Mabel sat her mug on the floor by her feet.

The researcher didn't like people staring at his hands, but this young girl wanted to look, it appears, in admiration, so Ford hesitantly gave her his hands and she held them lovingly, her eyes sparkling like stars.

"Wow! That's neat! No wonder your hand shake was so friendly! It's a whole finger friendlier than normal!" Mabel was then reminded that Dipper's journal had a six-fingered hand on it.

The girl's eyes widened as she wondered if she was meeting Dipper's idol. It was possible. The journal Dipper had dated it in the 80s, and Dipper said that the author mysteriously disappeared. As exciting as it was to meet the Author of the Journals, all it did was put Mabel more at ease. If anyone can help her, he can.

Ford laughed and gave her hands a soft squeeze. "I like you! You're weird."

Mabel grinned, distracted from her thoughts and grateful for it. "I like you, too, Ford!"