Chapter 27 | The Forest's Fury

Mabel chewed on a piece of toast, slightly dejected. Soos had burned the eggs. Again.

As she made her way to the attic, she wondered if Dipper had even slept at all. The last she'd seen him—way past midnight—he was hunched over her journal, scribbling furiously with a second pen clenched between his teeth.

She turned the handle and pushed the attic door open.

Then she froze.

Dipper's side of the room looked like a conspiracy theorist had exploded all over it. Pages were taped to the walls—sketches, equations, diagrams, journal entries—while his bed looked like a battlefield of notebooks, highlighters, and crumbs. Dipper sat cross-legged in the middle of it, furiously writing something in his journal, muttering fragments of thoughts to himself.

Mabel stepped in slowly. "Whoa. Dipper? You, uh... redecorating? It looks like an escape room in here."

He glanced up, barely registering her. "Huh? Mabel—"

He turned toward the wall next to him and then down at the bed. "Oh. Yeah, I... I think I'm close."

"Close?" she echoed, eyebrow raised.

He nodded, flipping frantically through the journal.

"When I went down to the lab, Great Uncle Ford was running a weirdness analysis on the moss. The readings were insane—look."

He pointed to a sketch on the wall. Some kind of graph, jagged with peaks. Around it, he'd taped together multiple pages, each connected by arrows and bits of string like a web.

"The readings were spiking. Not just normal weird, I mean weird weird. And when Ford came back, he wouldn't say anything. Like he didn't want me to know. And it got me thinking. What if the moss is reacting to something in the forest like Steve? What if it's channeling something?"

His words were rapid-fire now—excited, breathless, scattered. Like his thoughts were tumbling out faster than he could catch them.

Mabel blinked, trying to follow. "Okay, whoa. Dipper. Have you slept at all, bro-bro?"

He waved her off. "Sleep's gonna have to wait. I'm close, Mabel—I can feel it."

She lingered in the room, shifting her weight from foot to foot. He looked awful. Pale, heavy bags under his eyes, his voice hoarse from too much talking and not enough rest. He was vibrating with tension—unfocused and fraying at the edges.

And yet...

She looked at the journal in his lap. The one she had given him. The one he hadn't touched in weeks.

Now it was brimming with notes, ideas, possibilities.

Her heart tugged in two directions. On one hand, this felt familiar. The obsession. The danger of getting too deep. She'd seen it before. But on the other hand... he was alive in a way he hadn't been for days. Something had reignited that spark.

Maybe this was what he needed.

Something to dig into. Something his.

She stayed quiet, watching him for a moment longer.

Without a word, Dipper stood and shuffled out of the room toward the bathroom, the floorboards creaking under his feet.

The space felt emptier without him in it. For a moment, Mabel just stood there, her eyes scanning the clutter. She noticed snack wrappers and crumpled pages. She couldn't blame him, who doesn't like the midnight-munchies? But there was something else besides the crumbled-up pages by his pillow.

His phone. Screen still lit, resting near the edge of the mattress.

She hesitated... then stepped closer.

The chat screen was open. Her eyes caught the name instantly.

Pacifica.

Mabel blinked.

She hadn't heard much from Pacifica lately. Not since everything started getting weird again. But here she was, sending message after message. Her words filled the screen. She read over them, completely ignoring that she was probably—no definitely—invading his privacy. Her slight smile quickly faded as she read them.

They were so…

Urgent.

Scared.

Desperate.

She stared at the screen, feeling the weight of silence press between the messages. Something was wrong.

And the worst part?

Dipper hadn't replied. Not once.

It was afternoon now, and the humid hues of the summer sky made themselves known through the windows of the living room.

Ford rifled through a heavy-duty utility bag on the table, the wooden leg nearly buckling under its weight. He checked the equipment inside, making sure he had everything.

"S.E.M.F. sensors, laptop, magnet gun, and just in case—"

He reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled something out.

"A roll of duct tape."

He shoved the roll into his bag and zipped it shut. Then, he sat down at the table, patiently waiting for Dipper to come racing down the stairs.

And as if on cue, Dipper bounded down the steps. He flicked his hat on and slung his backpack over one shoulder.

He walked up to Ford, a slight smile on his face.

"Ready."

It had been so long since he'd gotten to go anywhere with Ford. He'd been practically (well, actually…) dreaming about this moment ever since their parents said they could come back for the summer.

For the first time in a long while, that old feeling returned—purpose, wonder, and the thrill of something unknown calling to him again.

Ford nodded, pulling the bag closer.

"I'm certain what I found in the lab is nothing more than residual energy. But just to be sure, a thorough examination of Steve would be very beneficial."

Dipper nodded, falling into step behind him as they headed toward the front door. Ford set his hand on the knob, about to turn it.

"Just remember—it's imperative that we're careful. If what you said is true, Steve is an uns—"

Suddenly, Mabel bounded down the stairs, mid–sweater wrestle. She jumped over the last couple steps, chaotic as ever, pushing her head through her sweater.

"Wait up! I'm coming too."

Ford tilted his head. "This could be dangerous, Mabel. Are you sure?"

Mabel waved her hand. "Pshh. Yeah, and so is leaving me home alone with a crossbow and a haunted ventriloquist dummy again."

Ford gave her a half-smirk, then shrugged and nodded. Mabel planted her hands on her hips, already triumphant.

If anything, she was determined to be involved this time—really involved. No more being one step behind. Especially not after what she earlier in the morning.

Dipper peered around Ford at her.

"Are you sure, Mabel? I think me and Great Unc—"

She marched up and threw an arm around his shoulder.

"Come on, I can't be missing out on all the monster stuff. Also, I don't want to be stuck restocking shelves."

Despite his hesitation, Dipper nodded with a flash of understanding.

"Yep. Completely understand."

Ford chuckled to himself. "Well, it could be worse. I recall Dipper telling me the few times Stanley made him stay in the gift shop for hours on end with no break."

Dipper and Mabel groaned in unison like the pain was still fresh.

Then someone else came down the stairs.

It was Grunkle Stan. The group stiffened slightly as he shuffled downward with a heavy yawn and a solid back-crack. He took a sip from his mug and looked at the three of them, quickly pulling off his glasses to rub them like he was doing a double take.

He deadpanned.

"Three Pines, one moss-man, and a tech bag walk into a forest. I don't even wanna know."

Mabel frowned. "I'm a cute moss-man!"

Stan smirked and ruffled her hair. "Of course you are, pumpkin."

He glanced at Ford. "Thought you said you wanted to take it easy, Sixer."

Ford shifted, adjusting his glasses. "Ah, yes. Well—just like my research, all things are subject to change."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. Don't go breaking arms and legs." He pointed at Dipper with his mug.

"Especially you, Short-stuff."

Dipper scowled. "Short-stuff? I'm nearly as tall as you!"

Stan snickered. "Keep dreaming, pal. If I say you're short, then you're short. Let's keep it that way."

Dipper rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sure."

Ford gave Stan a pat on the shoulder. "We should be back in a couple of hours. Just gathering some readings with a device I'd been meaning to finish."

Stan nodded, though there was a flicker of skepticism in his eyes. Mabel gave him a bear hug before bounding toward the door with the others.

He watched them head out toward the woods.

Then he turned, ready to glue himself to the recliner and watch some baby fights.

But as the door clicked shut behind them, Stan paused.

His eyes lingered there for a second too long.

Then, with a grunt, he turned and shuffled back toward the TV.

The group trekked through the woods. Ford was adamant about avoiding the path by the magical forest—the last thing he wanted to deal with was fairies.

Eventually, they reached the staging area, where the equipment was still scattered across the clearing. Dipper glanced around and noticed something was off. Some of the machines had been moved.

Ford adjusted his glasses. "You said the path was through here?"

Dipper nodded and pointed to a narrower trail near the edge of the clearing.

"Perfect. Lead the way," Ford said. He pulled out a small notebook and began cribbling in it. They started forward.

Dipper walked ahead, his eyes scanning every shadow, every broken branch. The hair on his neck prickled. They'd run for their lives down this very trail just days ago. The air felt heavier here—like the forest was holding its breath.

Mabel edged closer beside him, eyes darting from tree to tree. Even she could sense something was off. She glanced sideways. Dipper's gaze was sharp, locked in. He was cataloging every detail.

He finally spoke again, continuing his earlier explanation. "It was down this path. There was a fallen tree, and when we got close, he started throwing things at us. We hid behind it. Then he just… picked it up. With one hand."

Ford looked up. "That kind of strength in a local biological entity is impressive. But Steve's always come across as docile for a tree-giant."

Dipper hesitated. "Yeah… well, I'm not so sure."

Ford gave a nod without looking up from his notebook. "We may have different interpretations, Dipper. That's what data is for."

The caution tape came into view. Mabel's breath hitched. The same unease from before crept back in.

Ford and Dipper kept talking, a subtle clash of perspectives playing out between their words. Mabel didn't like it. Dipper was throwing himself into this—and Ford wasn't really listening. Neither of them seemed to know what they were actually dealing with.

She reached over and tapped Dipper's shoulder. "Hey. What's going on with you two? I thought we were all on the same team."

"I don't know," Dipper muttered. "He thinks it's just… residual Weirdmageddon energy or something."

Mabel flinched at the word. "Ugh. Don't remind me. But like—how?"

Dipper shrugged. "It kinda makes sense. But it's too simple. Too clean. Like someone scrubbed the weirdness but left the residue."

Mabel poked him in the chest. "And you're convinced it's forest magic or something. Both of you sound pretty stubborn too me."

He rolled his eyes. "Only one of us can be right."

"Or, plot twist: you're both wrong."

He smirked. "Yeah, no way."

She bumped his shoulder. "Also—you left your girlfriend on read this morning. Rude."

His voice cracked. "Mabel! She's not—"

"No whats, no butts, and no coconuts. Did you even read her messages, dummy?"

He looked away. "I mean… yeah."

"Dipper." Her tone softened. "Something was wrong. You know that, right?"

He winced. She was right, of course. He knew that just by reading them. But one thing led to another and before he knew it, he was taping pages together and writing down hypotheses. If he stopped now—if he let himself get distracted—what if they lost the trail forever?

He swallowed hard. "But I'm close, Mabel. I don't need sleep—I need answers."

She crossed her arms and took a step back. "Yeah, well... she might've needed you."

Before he could respond, he nearly walked into the caution tape. Ford was already peering beyond it.

"Ah, yes. This must be the place."

Dipper gently lifted the tape. "...Yeah."

They stepped into the clearing. The remains of a flattened patch of ground marked where the fallen tree had been. Footprints circled the area—ones of the twin's frantic retreat the other day.

Ford stared, blinking. "Interesting…Well, this is the perfect time."

He set his bag down and pulled out four heavy metal disks.

Dipper's eyes widened. Mabel raised an eyebrow.

Ford handed each of them a disk. It was cold and metallic, with a dull screen on its surface. He tapped one, and it came to life with a soft beep.

"These are part of my Specialized Electro-Magnetic Containment Field. Think of it as an array. With them, we can form a containment zone—trap Steve, maybe even communicate."

Mabel tilted her head. "S.E.M… F? Wait, where's the 'C' for containment?"

Ford waved it off. "It's implied."

Mabel hefted one of the disks, almost dropping it. "Oof—like a frisbee!"

Dipper quickly stopped her arm mid-throw. "Nope. This is you not doing that."

"Boooo."

Ford gestured to the woods. "Attach each disk to a tree. Tap the screen, then press the drill icon. It'll deploy barbs into the bark to hold it in place."

Dipper flipped the disk over. "Cool… got it."

And with that, the twins ran off into the trees. Ford waved at them through the brush, pointing to a few nearby trunks. Dipper approached one and held the disk in place. He tapped the screen, watching it flare to life, then found the drill icon and pressed it. The disk vibrated as it burrowed into the bark, letting out a soft chime when it finished.

"Hmm. That was easy."

Mabel jogged up to a tree a few yards away and mimicked the process. She ooh'd and ahh'd as it clicked into place, then stood back with her hands on her hips, thoroughly pleased. They shared a glance and a nod before Dipper turned and waved at Ford with a thumbs up.

Ford, visible just beyond the tree line, nodded back. He quickly began setting up the remaining disks, tapping their screens one by one. Once they were all in place, he dropped his bag onto a log and pulled out a weathered laptop. He powered it on, launched a program, and started typing furiously.

Suddenly, all the disks began to vibrate. A soft hum filled the forest air, barely audible but distinct.

Dipper and Mabel paused, startled by the noise. They walked over to Ford, who was now perched on a log, eyes glued to the screen.

"Everything's working as planned," he said. "Now comes the hard part."

He gave them a grim look. "Now we lure him in."

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a nervous glance.

Mabel shrugged. "Well, that sounds hard. Good thing I have this!"

She pulled her grappling hook and held it up triumphantly.

Dipper whipped around. "How did you…You've had that the whole time?!"

"Yep. Why wouldn't I bring this?"

Ford rubbed his chin, intrigued. "Excellent. That might work better than the magnet guns I brought."

CRACK.

All three turned at the same time.

Something whipped through the forest—just a blur of movement between the trunks.

"Uhhh…" Mabel laughed nervously. "Heh. He's fast."

The underbrush ahead rustled violently. Dipper squinted, barely making out legs moving in the shadows. They were massive, shrouded in moss and lichen, each step creaking like old timber under pressure.

Ford stood slowly. "We don't have much time. I need to finish booting up the program to activate the field."

Dipper nodded. "We'll bring him to the trees."

Mabel pointed her grappling hook ahead and fired it with a click, zipping forward.

"Grappling hook!"

Dipper sighed and sprinted after her, cupping his hands to his mouth.

"Steve! Hey!"

Another loud crack echoed to his right. He turned just in time to see a rock hurtling through the air. He ducked, the stone missing his head by inches.

He grinned. "Come on, Steve. Round two!"

Something like a tree trunk moved in the distance. Its leg crashed down, splitting a rotting log and shaking the ground like a small explosion.

"Mabel, this way!"

She swung between branches above and landed next to him, a gleam in her eye. "I see his leg!"

"Good. This way, you piece of driftwood!"

Mabel frowned. "Dipper! That's mean."

A giant log slammed into the earth just ahead of them, missing by a hair.

Dipper froze, panic flashing across his face.

"Aaaand I think I just made him mad."

They bolted. Steve's massive footsteps pounded the ground behind them, each step rattling their bones.

Ahead, Ford glanced up from his laptop, still typing.

"Don't stay in the perimeter when it activates! I'm not sure what it will do to your body!"

Dipper shuddered. "That's… great."

He turned to Mabel. Their eyes locked for just a second—and in that instant, time seemed to slow. No words. No hesitation. They never really had a 'sibling' moment. But here, it was just understanding. Like they were on the exact same wavelength.

They nodded. Then ran.

The woods thundered with each step behind them. Branches cracked, leaves scattered. The twin titanic legs of Steve emerged through the brush, coated in twisted moss and vines. His bark shimmered where sunlight touched it. Ferns grew from the cracks in his limbs like veins. He looked like a creature grown from the forest's wrath.

One, two, three, four…

Dipper counted the trees. This was the spot.

Steve was closing in, his massive silhouette cutting through the shafts of light.

Closer.

Closer—

"Gotcha."

Mabel grabbed his arm just as he shouted, and fired the grappling hook backward. The line snapped tight, and they were yanked off the ground as a massive, clawed hand swiped through the air where they'd just stood.

The wind whipped past them as Dipper clutched Mabel and his hat, heart pounding. Below, the forest blurred. He searched for Ford—

There. Just past the trees, hunched behind his laptop, finger hovering over a single key.

Steve's hand was still tracking them, rising—

"We're clear!" Dipper yelled as they soared upward. "Now!"

Ford didn't wait. He hit the Enter key.

The disks vibrated in perfect sync, pulsing with pale white light. The trees around them hummed and shimmered as an invisible field snapped into place, forming the edges of a glowing square.

Steve's arm froze mid-motion.

The light grew brighter, solidifying. The air around the trap buzzed like static.

And then—Steve stopped moving.

Ford stared, barely breathing. He double-checked his laptop.

"…It worked," he said softly, awe-struck.

Dipper and Mabel dropped down from a nearby tree, landing beside Ford. Dipper took one look into the glowing field and stared up at the towering silhouette.

"Woah…" His jaw slackened.

Ford placed a hand on his shoulder. "Woah indeed. But first, we need our data."

He returned to the log and resumed typing at his laptop.

"I'm running the same program used by the valley sensors. It'll give us a baseline for typical weirdness patterns in the region."

Dipper leaned over Ford's shoulder as a graph began to form on-screen. With a few clicks, a single line crawled its way across the display.

While they focused on the data, Mabel drifted toward the perimeter of the field. For the first time, she was able to see Steve up close—or at least, from the knees down. Her eyes slowly tracked upward, following the contours of bark and patches of moss and leaves embedded in his skin.

"Woahhh…"

Something was off. His legs weren't just shifting—they were shaking.

Above the trees, a groaning sound creaked through the forest. It was uneven, like something inhaling too sharply, then straining to exhale. She listened, brows furrowed.

The noise sounded almost... human.

Wait.

It was human. Groaning. And it was getting louder.

"Uhhh… Dipper?"

Dipper looked up from the laptop. Mabel stood frozen near the edge of the field, body angled like she was halfway between staying and bolting. He walked over.

"What is it?"

She pointed upward. "Do you hear that?"

The groaning swelled—guttural, strained, and now louder than the hum of the field. Dipper's eyes darted to Steve's legs. They were trembling violently, unstable.

He wasn't just groaning.

He was hurting.

Dipper's stomach dropped. "Great Uncle Ford—I think he's in pain."

Ford glanced up from his laptop. "Hmm. He may be reacting to the magnetic field. Possibly an adverse effect of the interference patterns."

Mabel looked again at Steve, her voice softer now. "It looks pretty bad…"

Dipper's pulse picked up. As angry as he'd been after the attack, watching Steve writhe didn't sit right.

"Great Uncle Ford, shut it down!"

Ford slowly rose from the log he was sitting on, analyzing the situation in front of him. He gripped his laptop in both hands, a thin line forming on his lips. He hesitated.

"We…We need this data. We need to know."

Dipper stared wide eyed. "Didn't you say it's just residual energy? Isn't that enough?"

Steve thrashed again—one massive leg knocking into the base of a nearby tree. The tree shuddered, threatening to tip over.

Everyone froze.

A massive arm tore through the canopy, sweeping down in a blur and ripping the tree out by its roots. It launched backward with terrifying force. The field flickered. Ford's laptop pinged wildly.

Field Obstruction Detected.

Sensor 12.3B.Z9 offline.

The glowing light dimmed, shrinking to a dull shimmer. Then the hum vanished.

Ford's voice dropped. "That is… problematic."

Steve let out a guttural roar, limbs slamming into nearby trees. Twigs and splinters rained down, missing Dipper and Mabel by inches.

"What do we do!?" Dipper shouted, panic rising.

"I can try rebooting the field using just three disks," Ford muttered, typing furiously. "It'll be tricky, but—"

A large limb crashed beside him, splintering against the earth. He shielded his face, grunting as small shards struck his arm. Steve had become completely erratic, his groans echoing like cries of pain across the forest.

Dipper ducked behind a tree, branches raining around him. The ground trembled beneath them.

High above, Steve clawed at himself. The sound of bark tearing echoed overhead. Chunks of wood, vines, and moss tumbled down.

Dipper scanned the clearing. Something was wrong. Someone was missing.

"Mabel!"

No response.

Then—he saw her. She was walking toward Steve.

His heart stopped. "Mabel, what are you doing!? Get back!"

She didn't stop. She moved forward steadily, debris falling all around her. She took a breath, closed her eyes... and began to hum.

Dipper froze.

"That song…"

Mabel's voice trembled at first, but it was warm. The simple melody floated through the clearing, steady and familiar.

She kept walking, reaching the base of Steve's feet. The tune evolved, weaving into a lullaby Dipper knew well. Her voice rose—fragile but determined—as she pushed toward the chorus.

Steve slowed.

The branches above grew still. His movements stopped.

She hit the crescendo. Her voice cracked slightly, straining for the high notes. It wasn't perfect—but it was enough. Enough to reach him. She didn't know why she was doing this. She just remembered how this song always made the monsters under her bed go quiet. How it made the bad thoughts go away.

Steve's legs bent. Two massive hands emerged from the canopy and planted themselves on either side of Mabel. Slowly, he knelt. From the shadows, a long beard of leaves unraveled, and a face emerged—shrouded in vines, his expression cautious.

Dipper stepped from behind the tree, watching. Mabel opened her eyes as she sang the final note.

Two reddish-brown eyes stared back at her. His brow twitched slightly—but beneath the leaves and bark, something in his expression… softened.

Her breath hitched. She raised a hand, slowly brushing his cheek.

Steve closed his eyes.

For a moment, the forest was still. Then his expression twisted, discomfort returning. Mabel's hand lingered on the bark.

He spoke—his voice cracked and ragged.

"Voices… in head. Hurt… hurt…"

Dipper's mouth fell open. Ford stood stunned.

Mabel didn't move. Beneath her hand, she could feel his skin shift—warm, alive. This wasn't just a creature. He was a person.

She opened her mouth to comfort him—but Steve backed away, unsteady. Slowly, he turned and lumbered off into the trees, disappearing into the underbrush.

The three stood in stunned silence. Ford lowered his laptop like it weighed a thousand pounds.

"That… shouldn't have worked." Even he didn't sound convinced by his own disbelief.

Mabel walked back, shrugging with a small smile. "Worked on me when I was little."

Dipper stared at her. That song… He recognized it. A lullaby their mom used to sing to Mabel when she had nightmares. From an old cartoon they watched as kids. He could still remember her voice—clear, angelic, full of love.

His chest ached. He turned to where Steve had vanished, staring at the broken trees and deep footprints. His thoughts churned, spinning with new questions.

Ford shut his laptop and knelt to gather the remaining disks, most intact—except one.

"I think I have enough data to analyze," he said. "But that was… peculiar." He ruffled Mabel's hair gently. "You did well, Mabel. Thank you." She smiled.

Ford looked around at the crushed underbrush and fallen limbs. "It's been a long time since I've felt like science can't explain what's right in front of me."

Dipper's eyes narrowed. "…Or chooses not to."

They packed up in quiet, Ford inspecting the shattered disk from the fallen tree.

Mabel gave a sheepish grin. "Nothing a few late nights and Mabel Juice can't fix, right?"

Ford gave a soft smile. "Perhaps. But still—disappointing." He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Any injuries?"

They both shook their heads. Mabel flashed a thumbs up. Dipper wiped dirt from his mouth. "All good."

Ford nodded. "Glad to hear it. That's enough fieldwork for today."

They set off down the trail. Dipper led the way, quiet, lost in thought. He was even more confused than before. He thought he was so close after he stayed up for hours coming up with all kinds of theories. But now? It felt like he was miles away from figuring it out. Mabel brushed off dirt from her sweater as she followed. Ford trailed behind, glancing one last time at the forest—uncertain—before turning away.

Behind them, in the clearing, a pile of bark and moss twitched.

Something inside moved.

A strand of moss convulsed. Then, something black oozed out of it, thick and viscous. It pulsed once. Then again.

It began to roll forward—slowly, silently.

Following the path of footprints down the trail.