“Bill is a jerk clearly uses his abilities unconsciously, but when do they activate? I have two theories, but there’s little data to confirm or deny them.
First, I think I should go into the forest, preferably with Cypher himself uncle Ford will kill me if he finds out. Second, I need to conduct some experiments. I wonder how I can scare a mind demon? Throw out all the tea? Tell him the hat he wore in his old form is long gone out of style? Something tells me that would only make him laugh. Or maybe he’d punch me in the eye. Okay, I’ll try the good old method…”
Dipper put the final period, clicked the pen with invisible ink, and switched off the ultraviolet lamp. Outside the window, it was already deep night; owls hooted occasionally in the forest. The boy got up from the desk, trying not to make any noise — to his great surprise, Cypher was asleep. He had only fallen asleep an hour ago, after winning the battle for the bed and finishing Dipper’s favourite book. The boy couldn’t understand why the demon was so drawn to sleep in his bed, especially now that this brazen blond had been given his own.
“It’s like it’s smeared with honey, for goodness’ sake,” the teenager sighed, looking at Cypher. Bill was lying on his side, facing Dipper, curled up in a ball with his knees drawn to his chest. When asleep, he annoyed Dipper less than usual — simply because he was silent.
“So he’s actually fallen asleep for the first time,” the boy thought, picking up the book from the floor.
“Could this be a side effect of using his powers? He spent a lot of energy creating the pendant, so his body must need recovery now. I should ask him if he slept after the fight with the ghost.”
Dipper froze with the book in his hand, standing over the quietly snoring demon. Right now, Bill looked defenceless and cold — the blanket, wedged between his legs, wasn’t covering any part of his body, and the attic window was open, letting in the cool air. The boy grunted and turned away. He put the book on the desk, opened his journal again, switched on the lamp, and wrote down his recent thoughts about the need for sleep. He thoughtfully gnawed on the cap of his pen, staring at the notes.
“
Taking the demon into the forest is like handing him every opportunity to escape. Should I risk it just to see if his powers work near the statue? I’m not an idiot. And yet, he didn’t run away from Mabel… but that doesn’t mean much — Cypher clearly wants to worm his way into her trust,” Dipper clenched the pen between his teeth more tightly, thinking hard.
“I could pretend I now trust him one hundred percent and see what he does… That’s a sort of experiment too.”
Dipper was pulled out of his thoughts by a faint crackling of plastic. The boy cursed under his breath and unclenched his teeth, releasing the cracked pen from his mouth.
“Alright, tomorrow — I mean, in the morning — I’ll think about it,” the boy whispered barely audibly, hiding his journal under his clothes. After switching off the lamp, Dipper cast one last irritated glance at Bill and flopped down onto demon's bed. Staring up at the dark ceiling, the boy wondered whether he should close his eyes. After all, he was still wary of relaxing too much around Cypher. But just lying there was boring, and three days without sleep were taking their toll — his vision grew blurry, and his eyelids gradually grew heavy.
“Ah, to hell with it,” Dipper decided, pulling a light blanket over himself and turning toward the wall.
“If he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it long ago.”
“This’ll be a great show of my trust to him,” he whispered just before finally drifting off to sleep.
In the morning, both teenagers were woken by Ford’s indignant shout.
“Dipper, are you sleeping?!” the scientist exclaimed, staring wide‑eyed at his grand-nephew, who was sleepily rubbing his eyes.
“Well, sort of,” Dipper yawned. Bill, making aggressive sounds of a broken radio, hid his head under the pillow.
“You do realize how dangerous it is when he’s around…” Stanford glanced at the demon sprawled across the borrowed bed and lowered his voice to a hissing whisper. “What if he’d harmed you?”
“It’s fine, uncle, don’t worry,” the boy made a crooked smile. “I’ve got everything under control.”
He stifled a wide yawn and cast a glance at his worried uncle. It was nice that Ford cared about his life, but lack of sleep could finish Dipper off faster than that pale‑haired, scrawny now-not-a‑demon. Besides, since the boy had decided to pretend he trusted Bill, he needed to show it rather than just say it. Everyone believed in actions more readily than in words.
Stanford adjusted the strap of his hiking backpack and nodded, calming down.
“Are you going somewhere?” the boy asked, noticing the backpack. His uncle nodded again.
“Yes, the locals report that while fishing at the lake, they saw a strange burning bird,” Stanford’s eyes lit up with a thirst for adventure. “Just imagine it, son — a bird that’s on fire but doesn’t burn up.”
“Sounds like a phoenix,” Dipper smiled. Ford nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, yes, exactly! So while I’m gone, you’re in charge.”
Dipper gave a half‑joking salute, and his uncle, giving his grand-nephew a final pat on the shoulder, jumped out the window.
“I hope he’s broken his legs,” Bill grumbled from under the pillow. “Clown.”
“Be envious in silence,” Dipper chuckled, getting up from the bed. The demon’s heavy sigh was partially muffled by the pillow.
“Nothing to be envious of,” he said barely audibly.
Shaking his head, Dipper stared at the open window and sank into thought: should he take advantage of his uncle’s departure and sneak off to the forest with Cypher? Ford would be at the lake all day, if not longer — so there was no need to worry about him finding out that Bill had left the Shack.
Dipper bit his index finger thoughtfully.
“He trusts me, and I’m going to trick him like this?” the young man frowned.
“And for the third time, it turns out… I didn’t tell him about Mabel’s sleepover, nor about that ill-fated pendant… Am I doing the right thing?”
“Hey, Pine Tree, is it tasty?” Bill asked mockingly, peeking out from under his pillow. Dipper glanced at him in surprise.
“I asked, is your finger tasty?” the demon laughed. The boy released his bitten finger, which was nearly bleeding, and nervously shrugged.
“I was just thinking,” he muttered, and then, to distract himself from the moral dilemma tormenting him, he asked, “By the way, why did you fall asleep?”
Cipher groaned in displeasure, throwing the pillow off his head and starting to get rid of the blanket that had tangled around his leg.
“I don’t know, I didn’t notice I’d fallen asleep,” he replied emotionlessly. “I passed out after my walk with Shooting Star, too.”
Dipper frowned intriguedly. The thrill of excitement, aroused by the possibility that his hunch from the night before might be right, overshadowed all his recent doubts.
“Have you ever felt like sleeping?.. Or no, wait,” Dipper began chewing the inside of his cheeks, formulating the question. “Do you even need sleep?” And to avoid Cypher’s favourite 'I’m a demon, Pine Tree, demons don’t need blah‑blah‑blah' line, he added, “Just answer seriously, not like with the food.”
Bill gave the boy an irritated look.
“I haven’t slept in almost a trillion years, Pine Tree,” he sighed. Dipper raised his eyebrows, surprised by the demon’s serious tone.
“Um, okay, but I meant — do you need sleep in this form?”
“I don’t,” Cypher muttered. “But I can feel drowsy.”
“Isn’t drowsiness a sign that you need sleep?” Dipper thought. But looking at the disgruntled teenager, he decided not to ask the question out loud and simply nodded.
“He’s denying the obvious again,” Dipper mused as he opened the closet and caught the clothes that had fallen out.
“He’ll keep denying it like that, and he’ll start hallucinating from lack of sleep… Then he’ll experience memory loss, impaired coordination… Damn, so my theory about him sleeping because he needed to replenish the energy used for creating a pendant is wrong.”
Dipper quickly pulled his T‑shirt over his neck, not even bothering to slip his arms through the sleeves, and pulled out his journal. He grabbed a ultraviolet lamp and a pen from the table and crossed out his nightly conclusions. Feeling immense disappointment, he slammed the journal shut and turned to Bill.
“Here goes nothing” Dipper decided.
“I’ve got a proposal for you,” he said. Cypher snorted.
“I hope it’s not a marriage one,” he chuckled, getting up from the bed and slapping the frowning boy on his bare shoulder. “I’m not ready for that stage of our relationship yet. And you probably wouldn’t want to give me a real heart, anyway.”
Dipper rolled his eyes and suppressed a huge urge to kick the mocking demon.
“No, jerk, I want to suggest we go to the forest today while my uncle’s away,” Dipper said calmly, showing great patience and self‑control. “I’ve got a couple of ideas about your powers, and I want to test something near your statue — you could help me with that…”
“Seriously?!” Bill abruptly grabbed the other’s shoulders, squeezing them, and stared at the boy wide‑eyed. His face showed such genuine enthusiasm and delight that Dipper couldn’t help but smile and even found it a bit adorable.
“What?” Cypher frowned, puzzled by this reaction. He took his hands off the boy’s shoulders and took a step back.
“Nothing,” Dipper shook his head and finally put his T‑shirt on properly. “You just suddenly looked like a puppy that’s been offered a bone.”
Bill clearly intended to express his indignation at such a comparison, but limited himself to merely pursing his lips in displeasure.
“I think we can head out in an hour — we’ll have just enough time to have breakfast,” Dipper pulled on his jeans and took a backpack out of the closet. “So I advise you to hurry up and whip something up.”
The boy could still feel, even with his back turned, the weight of a frowning amber‑eyed gaze boring into him. Ignoring it completely, he started stuffing the backpack with things that might come in handy in the forest: his journal, a pen with invisible ink, an ultraviolet lamp, and a crystal flashlight. He paused for a moment, wondering whether to bring a baseball bat or a crossbow — but then decided against it. If anyone attacked him, he’d simply sic the pesky demon on the brave soul. Pleas for mercy would be guaranteed.
Dipper shot a quick glance at Cypher, who was already rummaging through his own dresser, sorting through clothes.
“I’m downstairs,” the boy grunted, slinging the backpack over his shoulders. “And don’t you dare dump your junk on my bed!”
Dipper left the attic to the sound of the Bill’s mocking laughter. He dashed downstairs and burst into the kitchen. Mabel was already sitting there, looking a bit puffy — either from sleep or from tears. A mug of juice sat on the table in front of her.
“Oh, hi, bro,” she smiled wryly at her brother, who had just rushed in. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
The toaster clicked sharply — Dipper flinched. With a nervous jerk of his head, he opened a cupboard, pulled out a kitchen knife, and immediately hid it under his T‑shirt.
“Morning, Mabel,” he walked up to his twin sister and gently kissed her on the temple. “How are you? Feeling down about that jerk?”
The girl shook her head and gently nudged Dipper in the stomach with her elbow — hitting the knife spot‑on.
“Who are you planning to kill?”
“What’s the name of the guy you were hanging out with?..” the boy asked a bit too cheerfully. Mabel laughed.
“As if I’d tell you! Seriously, Dip, what do you need the knife for?”
“I want to run a little experiment.”
“O‑kay,” Mabel drawled. “You’ll tell me about it later.”
“Will you cover for me and Cypher if grunkle Stan comes looking for us?” Dipper sat down next to his sister and yawned. His twin narrowed her eyes with interest and nodded slowly.
“Are you trying to figure out how his powers work?” she asked. Dipper reached out, snatched a hot slice of toast from the toaster, and took a small bite.
“Yeah.”
“Are you planning to run this experiment on Bill?”
Stuffing the whole piece of toast into his mouth, the boy nodded, then put a finger to his lips. Mabel quietly clicked her tongue and didn’t say anything more. After finishing her juice, she got up and went to make breakfast.
“I hope you’ll learn to cook properly someday, Dip,” she chuckled, frying slices of bacon. “Otherwise you’ll starve to death if I’m not around one day.”
Dipper leaned back in his chair. The cold blade of the knife pressed against his stomach was unnerving, but he wasn’t planning to take it out — he had no other ideas how to confirm or refute his guesses.
“Just don’t overdo it,” he thought, turning his head toward the entering Bill.
“Otherwise, instead of an experiment, I’ll end up with involuntary manslaughter…”
While Cypher had breakfast and poured himself some tea prepared by the caring Mabel — who was cheerfully chirping about her plans for the day — Dipper went and removed the magical barrier. Thoughtfully twirling the moonstone in his pocket, he waited for the demon by the door. The upcoming trip was somehow more nerve‑wracking than exams.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Dipper repeated to himself yet again, nervously tapping his heel against his own ankle.
“Calm down — it’s not like you’re heading to your death.” When Bill finally stepped into the corridor, Dipper let out an impatient sigh.
“Here, Shooting Star gave this to you,” Bill handed over a thermos, from under the lid of which the smell of coffee wafted.
“Oh, thanks,” Dipper grunted, stuffing the thermos into the side pocket of his backpack. “All right, put your shoes on — let’s go.”
Cypher pursed his lips discontentedly and shifted his weight from heel to toe and back.
“You know, Pine Tree, I’m perfectly fine as I am,” he smirked, lightly kicking the boy with his bare foot. Dipper didn’t bother to argue — he just waved his hand. If that blond‑haired fool got something stuck in his foot, that would be his own problem.
“So, before we go, I’m going to make a little speech,” Dipper announced. Bill chuckled and folded his arms across his chest.
“I had no doubt. Go ahead, Pine Tree!”
“I’m sure you understand that I’m taking a huge risk by bringing you to the forest with me. So I expect you won’t try to escape from me or harm me…”
“I won’t, all right.”
“…because if anything happens, Ford will track you down in no time and bury you alive. And I just hope you’re not a complete jerk, Cypher.”
“Hope dies last, as mortals say.”
“Stop interrupting me!” Dipper exclaimed, outraged. Bill laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “Damn it, Cypher, you made me lose my train of thought,” the boy pursed his lips in annoyance. “Ah, whatever — just stay close, don’t dodge my questions, and don’t tease the forest monsters. Got it?”
The demon nodded vigorously.
“That’s easier than beating the Time Baby,” Bill assured. “Don’t worry, Pine Tree, I’ll be a good boy!”
Bill, of course, was anything but a “good boy”. Clearly delighted to be spending the day outside four walls, the teenager chased after birds and butterflies, so much so that Dipper nearly lost sight of Cypher once. He argued with gnomes and tried to climb a tree three times. Watching the excited demon, Dipper compared him to a puppy taken out for a long‑awaited walk — for the second time.
“Hey, Pine Tree, look!” Bill ran up to the boy, holding his cupped hands in front of him — something was clearly inside. Dipper frowned as he noticed a drop of blood seeping through the gaps between Cypher’s slender fingers.
“Well?” Dipper asked a bit nervously. “What is it?”
Bill opened his hands. Perched on his torn palm was a ruffled three‑headed bird with blue plumage. Before flying off, it pecked the hand that had held it captive one more time, then blinked its three pairs of eyes and swiftly darted up toward the tops of the trees. Cypher smiled contentedly, watching the bird go, seemingly not at all bothered by his wounds. Dipper shook his head, feeling sympathy for the poor creature that had been ready to peck its way to freedom, and sighed.
“I don’t have a first‑aid kit with me, be careful… What are you doing?!” he exclaimed, noticing how Bill was wiping the blood on his own jeans. “Cypher, you idiotic fiend! Nobody does that!”
“Oh, come on, that buzzing machine of yours washes everything out,” Bill brushed it off. “And I’m not a fiend, I’m a demon!”
“Maybe I should just punch him after all?” Dipper wondered, watching the restless blond try to catch a venomous snake.
“Or leave him be? At this rate, he’ll kill himself…”
When the snake, its fanged mouth wide open, hissed discontentedly and was about to strike, the boy couldn’t stand it anymore; he snatched a flashlight with a magic crystal from his backpack, quickly shrank the reptile and grabbed Cypher’s wrist.
“That’s it,” Dipper grumbled, gripping Bill for his arm. “Otherwise we’ll never make it to the statue. Do you have any sense of self‑preservation at all? It’s like I’m babysitting three‑year‑old Mabel.”
Bill’s ringing laughter startled several larks from the nearest tree.
“All right, all right, Pine Tree, I’m walking calmly by your side,” he said, grinning broadly. “I’m just a bit excited that I’m finally going to figure out why I’m trapped in this pitiful mortal body instead of my own matchless, magnificent, perfect…”
Dipper didn’t bother listening to Cypher’s self‑glorifying rants. Still dragging the demon by the hand like a misbehaving kid, Dipper began scanning the forest for any new anomalies. Unfortunately, the anomalies showed no desire to reveal themselves. Apart from the bird Cypher had caught, the boy hadn’t spotted anything. Not even the gnomes had shown their pointy hats again. Dipper sighed in disappointment and resigned himself to the fact that today he’d only get to study one anomaly — the one walking beside him, kicking the grass with bare feet.
“I wonder if demons get bitten by ticks?” Dipper thought, watching Bill curl his toes around some flowers and rip the poor plants out by the roots.
“An almighty demon felled by tick‑borne encephalitis… That would be a comedy.”
“Hey, Pine Tree, what do you want to check near my statue?” Bill asked, tossing aside the crumpled flowers.
“Well, first I just want to examine it,” Dipper replied. “After that, I need to copy down the symbols you carved into the stone, and then I want to run a certain experiment…”
Once again, the boy felt uneasy.
“Cool!” Bill smiled, having apparently missed everything except the last word. “I love experiments!”
“You’re not going to like this one,” Dipper shook his head, trying to ignore the knife pressing against his stomach.
“Then again, neither will I.” Noticing he was still gripping Cypher’s wrist, the boy finally let go. For some reason, he felt awkward — the demon hadn’t even tried to pull away all this time. To keep his hands busy, Dipper started fiddling with the neck cord, from which the presidential key hung.
“Hmm, that’s strange,” Bill suddenly declared, looking around. Dipper shot him a surprised glance, then also started looking around warily.
They finally reached the clearing where the statue stood. Unlike the night Dipper had found Cipher there, the clearing was now full of sounds: birds chirped loudly, a deer munched nearby, hidden behind some bushes, and a clump of frogs scurried around the statue itself.
“Looks like they’ve found a new home,” Dipper chuckled as one of the amphibians leaped right into the bisected statue and let out a loud croak. To Dipper’s surprise, it sounded exactly like a line from the chorus of one of Aristophanes' comedies. This brought a smile to his face. Bill, however, was clearly not pleased by the amphibian invasion.
“Hey, get lost!” he shouted, running up to the stone statue to scare the frogs. They obediently hopped away, cursing the demon loudly in their frog language. Dipper barely suppressed a chuckle.
“What are you laughing at, Pine Tree?” Cipher grunted, turning to the teenager. “I’d love to see you if those green creatures suddenly started living inside
your body.”
“If I had frogs inside me, I’d probably die,” Dipper declared with some horror. “And this isn’t really
your body anymore, Bill. More like an empty shell.”
Bill crossed his arms over his chest. He chewed on his lip, clearly feeling displeased, but stayed silent. He turned back to the statue, crouched down, and started grumbling something incomprehensible under his breath, occasionally snapping his fingers and frowning. Dipper, meanwhile, shrugged off his backpack and froze a few steps away from the deep in thought demon.
“Now’s probably the time to do it, while he’s distracted,” Dipper thought uncertainly, fumbling for the knife under his T‑shirt.
“Or… Ah, whatever. Now.” He wanted to say something like “Just don’t get mad or take offence, okay?” to Bill, but Dipper stubbornly pressed his lips together and pulled out the knife. Trying to tread silently, he slowly edged closer to Cypher until he was almost right behind him.
“It’s just an experiment,” Dipper thought, trying to calm himself. After all, it wasn’t every day that he threatened someone with a knife — even if not for real.
“Bill,” Dipper called out. Cypher shifted back slightly, clearly about to stand up and turn around, but only pressed his back against the boy’s arm, which had wrapped around his shoulders, preventing him from moving aside. The blade, warmed by the heat of the human body, pressed against the pale neck, just below the sharply defined jawline. In a split second, Dipper could see a whole gamut of emotions on the demon’s pale face: surprise, despair, fear, anger.
And in the next moment, there was a bright blue flash — and Dipper crashed into a tree with his back. The blow made his head spin.
“WHAT THE HELL, PINE TREE?!” Bill roared, jumping to his feet. He pressed his hands to his neck — which had just narrowly escaped being scratched by the kitchen knife — and stared at the teenager with wild fury. “YOU DRAGGED ME OUT HERE TO KILL? DID SIXER PUT YOU UP TO THIS?!”
Dipper rubbed his bruised nape and stared at the outraged teenager, now separated from the boy by at least ten metres.
“I’m sorry,” the boy replied curtly.
“SORRY?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”
Nodding, Dipper started searching for the knife that had flown off. He found it in the grass, very close by. But he wasn’t planning to pick it up just yet.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, standing up and casting a guilty look at Bill. “I just… It was an experiment. I didn’t mean to harm you — I only wanted to check whether your powers would manifest when your life is in danger.”
“An experiment,” Bill muttered. The anger on his face eased, giving way to irritation. Cypher rubbed his unharmed neck, looked at his clean hands. Taking a deep breath, he assessed the distance now separating the two of them and shook his head. Then he closed his eyes and laughed. He laughed long, unnaturally and frantically, slapping his knees hysterically. Dipper coughed nervously into his fist, watching Bill fall onto the grass, still laughing raucously.
“Uh…” the boy shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.
“Are you all right?” was an extremely silly question in such a situation, but as he watched the demon thrashing about in what looked like a fit, Dipper couldn’t think of anything more sensible.
“I wonder, if I start describing Cypher’s reaction in my journal right now, will that make me look like a total unempathetic jerk?..” the boy thought, feeling that he probably needed to do something — comfort the raging Bill somehow, calm him down.
“I just don’t know what to do. Should I apologise again?”
Deciding to simply wait for Bill to calm down, Dipper leaned against a tree. After what felt like an eternity, Cypher stopped laughing and, wiping away the tears that had welled up from laughter, took a deep breath.
“Yeah, didn’t expect this from you, Pine Tree,” Bill said in a casual tone. “Just yesterday you were telling me that… what was it you said? You’re against scientific violence, and now…”
“I wasn’t going to… I wouldn’t have hurt you! But I needed to scare you! And how do you imagine that if I’d come up to you and said: ‘Hey, Cypher, I’m about to put a knife to your carotid artery, so please get scared, would you? I want to test a theory of mine.’”
“All right, don’t get hysterical,” Bill smirked. “I’m not angry. Probably.”
Dipper ran a hand through his hair, tousling the chestnut locks.
“I won’t do it again,” he mumbled childishly. Cypher laughed, but this time genuinely.
“I believe you,” he nodded at the sulking boy. “You should see your face right now, Pine Tree — you look like your dad caught you masturbating or stealing cigarettes and made you stand in the corner.”
“Hilarious,” Dipper snorted, peeling himself off the tree and picking up the knife from the ground. Surprisingly, he actually felt exactly as Bill had described. The boy tossed the knife into his backpack, then pulled out his journal, lamp, pen, and the thermos of coffee.
“Want some?” he offered the thermos to the demon. Bill raised an eyebrow mockingly and shook his head.
“I’m not drinking that. I’ve had enough of that when Shooting Star slipped me that bitter junk.”
“But then she mixed the coffee from whatever she had on hand, so to speak — and this is regular,
normal coffee with sugar and milk.”
Bill stubbornly pushed the offered drink away. Shrugging his shoulders, Dipper set the thermos down near the statue and sat down next to Cypher. He stared at the stone statue and tried to push away the guilt and confusion lingering after the experiment.
“But now I can say with certainty that your powers are acting as a defense mechanism,” Dipper said, trying not to sound defensive as he began scribbling in his journal. “It’s like one of the human reactions to fighting off an irritant — and I don’t mean the kind of irritant I feel when you, for example, plop on my bed, Cipher. Your magic is now like a shield and sword, allowing you to avoid mortal danger.”
Bill nodded.
“I figured that out myself when you went flying away from me,” he smirked. “But that doesn’t explain the pendant’s creation. I didn’t sense any threat from Shooting Star back then.”
“Well… I have a hypothesis here, but…” the boy scratched the back of his head with the non‑writing end of the pen and forced a smile. “It’s unfounded and completely illogical.”
The amber eyes stared unblinkingly at Dipper — it seemed that just a little more, and they’d burn a hole right through the boy.
“Speak, O Wisest One.”
Dipper rolled his eyes.
“Remember when you said you wanted to make Mabel happier? Maybe…”
“I changed my mind, don’t speak,” Bill waved his hand and sprang up briskly. He brushed off the grass from his clothes and straightened his T‑shirt. Dipper, out of sheer stubbornness, kept talking:
“…that is the answer? It’s just that all your attempts to use the powers — when you’re angry and want to harm us — have failed, but it worked that one time. Well… Okey, I don’t know how it works. We need more experiments.”
“Are you going to scare me again?” the demon grinned, placing two fingers to his neck, mimicking the recent incident. Dipper flinched nervously and waved him off indignantly.
“No, I won’t!”
“At least now we’re kind of even, Pine Tree,” Bill said, leaning over and poking at the bandage on Dipper’s left arm. Beneath it, a deep, diagonal cut, just beginning to heal, ran from the inside of his elbow to the middle of his forearm.
“But I’ll end up with a scar, and you didn’t even get a scratch,” Dipper grumbled, shaking off the demon’s finger and covering the bandage with his hand. Cipher only laughed.
“But that won’t stop me from teasing you and bringing up today until the death!”
The boy didn’t bother to specify whose death exactly. He brushed a small insect from the pages of his journal and began to copy the magical symbols with which the statue was covered.
The statue itself looked, to Dipper, as if it had been caught in the eye of a tornado, barely managing to retain any remnants of itself. The two halves into which the statue had split were deeply cracked, obscuring some of the carved symbols. But, surprisingly, there were no traces of the blood with which Cipher had generously poured his stone figure. The surface of the statue was light gray, not a single brown spot, and only a few moss growths had grown here and there, close to the ground. The stone was hollow inside, and Dipper, as he traced another symbol, made a mental note to look inside and inspect the statue.
“Don’t just copy them, Pine Tree,” Cipher chuckled, leaning over Dipper and resting his chin on the top of the boy’s head. “The symbols aren’t just randomly scattered, each one has its own place.”
The boy didn’t even try to shake off the insolent demon from his head — he just hummed quietly to himself, indicating that he’d understood, and began redrawing not only the symbols but the statue itself as it appeared before him now. Bill nodded in satisfaction.
“Good boy.”
“Back off,” Dipper grunted. “Better explain their meaning to me.”
“Nah,” Bill smiled smugly. “You need it, not me.”
“But isn’t…”
“No. The symbols themselves are correct — they ensured the return of my powers, as we’ve found out, so I’m no longer interested in these scribbles. Probably I messed up the spell itself — and i think it’s your fault, by the way.”
“Fine, I’ll find out myself,” the boy rolled his eyes.
“I think I’ve seen similar magical markings in some of uncle’s books.” Dipper finally shook the other’s chin off the top of his head and shifted slightly to the side.
“Tell me about the spell,” he asked. Bill, not at all upset about losing his comfortable headrest, knelt down in front of his own statue and peered inside.
“Why tell you when I can just write it down for you!” Cypher’s cheerful voice echoed off the stone walls. “And even translate it into English.”
“What’s the catch?”
“None!” Bill pulled his head out of the crack and smiled at the teenager. “But in exchange, you’ll let me read all your notes about my beloved self. By the way, could you shine some light in here? I think there’s something.”
Dipper crawled over to the demon and, giving him a gentle nudge in the thigh to make him move aside, shone the UV light into the crevice. In the beam of the lamp, a set of perfectly ordinary English letters appeared, and next to them — a miniature schematic drawing of an axolotl’s face.
“Nrosa otf ieyr nuso?” Dipper read, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Does that mean anything to you?”
While Bill, groaning in displeasure, crawled away from the crack, Dipper examined the rest of the statue’s interior. Besides the inscription and the drawing, there was nothing else inside.
“Damn him…” the demon began making angry hissing sounds and kicking the grass.
“So you know what this is?” Dipper asked again, quickly copying his findings into his journal. The jumbled letters were probably a cipher, and while Cipher was tormenting the innocent grass, he was running through possible encryption schemes in his head.
“That doesn’t mean anything to me, Pine Tree,” Bill muttered. “I can’t imagine what the hell this is.”
“Mm, I don’t think so,” Dipper drawled, not looking up from his journal. “Then why are you so angry?”
Cipher gazed at the thoughtful boy with an expression that seemed to threaten an impending strike to the forehead. Finally, the demon sighed three times loudly and said:
“Axolotl,” he pointed his finger at the approximate location of the image. “I’m angry because of it. Or more accurately, at it.”
Dipper finally tore his gaze away from the written pages and looked at Bill the way you look at children afraid of tiny toy spiders: with a mixture of sympathy, affection, and irritation.
“An axolotl is, if I’m not mistaken, just an ambystoma larva…”
“No!” Bill interrupted. “An axolotl is a huge, puffed-up turkey… argh, I mean, if you’re explaining it to dumb humans…”
“Well, thanks,” Dipper interrupted, rolling his eyes.
“…then it’s an immortal being, possessing such power that even I can’t say exactly what he’s capable of.”
“So, he’s a demon?”
“He’s an asshole, not a demon!”
“Okay…” Dipper sighed, looking at Bill, who was seething with indignation, and silently added,
“Well, you’re definitely an asshole.” Aloud, he asked, “So how is he involved in all this?”
He gestured toward Cipher himself and his triangular statue. Bill abruptly brushed his blond hair back from his forehead and snorted, calming down.
“Like I’d tell you,” he grinned wryly. “So, what about translating the spell — do you agree?”
Dipper was so taken aback by this abrupt shift in topic that he couldn’t react properly — he just nodded, flustered.
“But you can only take the journal when I explicitly allow it,” he quickly added. “And no drawing any indecent stuff in it…”
Bill let out a mocking chuckle and, leaning forward, plucked a crumpled daisy and tossed it into the boy’s face.
“Admit it — you liked my artwork! By the way, I studied, so to speak, under Cimon of Cleonae. Oh, you should see his sketches…”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” the boy grumbled, brushing the flower off his nose. It smelled sweetly of apples, the teenager thought, and he buried himself back in the journal again. From the outside, it might have seemed that not a single entry had been added today — the pages, not illuminated by the UV lamp, were white, save for a few greenish spots left by grass stains.
“All right, I won’t draw in your little diary anymore, Pine Tree,” Cypher condescended, plopping down beside him. Dipper nodded without even listening and finally finished copying the statue and the magical symbols on it. He closed the journal, leaving the pen between the pages, stood up, and walked around the statue, occasionally shining the lamp on certain spots. When nothing new turned up, the boy nodded to himself, cross‑checked the symbols, and put the journal back into his backpack.
“Well, that’s about it,” he said. “We can head back.”
The boy glanced at his wristwatch, which read five to three.
“We’re fast, that’s good,” Dipper sighed.
“Uncle Ford wasn’t supposed to be back yet.” Cipher, stretched out on the grass and turning his contented face to the sun, said pitifully:
“How about we sit a little longer? Maybe the statue will light up or talk, you never know…”
Dipper turned sharply to the demon basking in the sun.
“You think it can?” he asked with some excitement. Bill laughed.
“Of course not!” he declared, narrowing his eyes sarcastically. “You said yourself it’s an empty shell. There’s nothing inside it. From now on, it’s just a soulless stone. A broken monument to my former perfect form…” Bill glanced briefly at the statue and spoke in a more serious tone."But, you know…”
“…I miss my top hat!” finished he after a little pause.
The boy rolled his eyes. Cipher’s constant jokes were starting to get a little tiresome, even though they were funny — but Dipper wouldn’t crack a smile, no matter how much he wanted to. Hefting his backpack, he walked up to the statue and picked up the thermos from the ground. Then he kicked the demon sprawled on the grass in the knee.
“Get up,” he said, removing the lid from the thermos. “We need to get back before uncle Ford.”
Dipper put the vessel to his lips, but before he could take a sip, something rustled in the nearby bushes. Bill sat up abruptly and whispered to the boy who had turned in the direction of the sound:
“Hey, Pine Tree, we’re about to be chased away.”
Dipper didn’t answer. He slowly closed the thermos and stuffed it into his backpack. Something large and white was clearly lurking in the bushes. “
With that colouring, the greenery and the ground are clearly not the best place for an ambush”, the teenager decided, frowning, and took a few slow steps forward. The white bundle immediately shifted to the side.
“Wait,” Dipper said in surprise — the meaning of the other’s words had only just dawned on him — and he glanced sideways at Bill. “How do you know it wants to
chase us away?”
The demon shrugged. He shifted, about to pull his legs up to himself, when suddenly a pillar of fire flew straight at him from the bushes.
“What the—!” Bill jumped up at once and dodged, but the flames still grazed his jeans a little. A huge snow‑white cat leaped out of the branches. Arching its back, it hissed furiously. And Dipper realised the hissing was directed solely at Cypher — the eyes, in which the pupil filled the entire field of vision, stared unblinkingly at the blond. The cat opened its mouth, revealing a black palate and white fangs. A glow appeared inside its throat.
“It’s a Maine Coon,” Dipper said in amazement. The white ears with long tufts, resembling those of a lynx, twitched in his direction.
“I don’t care what it is — let this furball stop trying to burn me!” Cypher protested, sticking his tongue out at the cat. “And this is my territory, got it?
You should get out of here!”
The cat swished its hindquarters from side to side a few times — Dipper couldn’t help but smile fondly — and then pounced on Bill.
“Pine Tree, you’re my shield!” he shouted, and at the last second, dodging the sharp claws, he hid behind the boy. Gripping his shoulders, he pushed Dipper toward the cat.
“Nobody likes me here at all!” he declared right into Dipper’s ear. “Although everyone should be crawling before me!”
The cat clearly didn’t agree with his last words. Hissing, it tried to circle around Dipper to get closer to It's enemy.
“Why does It attack only you?” Dipper asked, surprised, not even trying to be outraged by the fact that Cipher, holding him by the shoulders, was actually using the boy as a shield.
“I don’t know, It’s clearly mad,” Bill grumbled. The cat spat hot sparks at him.
“I think it senses that you’re a complete jerk,” the boy snorted. “It’s a good kitty, smart. And beautiful one.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?..” the demon hissed, frowning in displeasure. “Continue that way and I’ll draw such a huge dick in your journal, you’ll never be able to erase it!”
Dipper laughed. He crouched down, forcing Bill to follow him, and extended an open palm to the cat. He wasn’t scared, just curious.
“Hello,” he smiled, trying not to show his teeth, just in case. The cat arched It’s back and backed away slightly.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” Dipper drawled soothingly. “Few people could hurt such a beauty, especially one that breathes fire, right?”
“Flatterer,” Bill breathed out indignantly when the cat, having stopped hissing, came a little closer and carefully sniffed the tips of his fingers.
“You’re the flatterer, Cipher, I’m just telling the truth.”
He didn’t want to scare the cat, so he didn’t pet the animal even when its pinkish nose nuzzled the center of his palm. While Bill puffed irritably in his ear, Dipper held back a squeak of affection and studied the snow-white creature.
She (and the boy noticed that it is a girl) looked like a true Maine Coon: a large head with a massive muzzle and the longest whiskers Dipper had ever seen; large, round, yellow eyes, set wide apart, scrutinized the boy’s face, and her white fur looked more luxurious than the hair in those expensive shampoo commercials; every squirrel in the forest was sure to envy this cat’s long, fluffy tail. With a short purr, the cat stood on her hind legs, resting her front paws on Dipper’s shoulders. Her head rested just above boy’s. Looking him straight in the eyes, the cat let out a thin, even pitiful, “mrr-rah.” Her voice made his insides clench.
“I died,” Dipper suddenly declared, addressing no one in particular. “I died of cuteness.”
“Seriously?!” Bill protested. “She just picked a good position for a fire attack!”
To confirm these words, the cat blew a few sparks in the demon’s face, and then, purring so loudly it sounded like a tractor had started right under Dipper’s ear, she rubbed her forehead against his chestnut-brown hair.
“You just got seduced, Pine Tree,” Bill shook his head disapprovingly, watching the teenager’s brown eyes light up with admiration. “Seduced, and you don’t even mind… traitor.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Dipper smiled and gently ran his fingertips down the cat’s fluffy back. The fur felt smooth and soft, like the finest silk.
“G-o-o-od girl,” the boy whispered, stroking the purring cat’s back. “You’re treating that demon right, he’s a real pain in the ass.”
“Hey!”
“I wonder if I can take her home?” Dipper suddenly asked himself.
“I’m against it!”
“It’s unlikely that uncle Stan will allow it, but Ford, when he finds out that she breathes fire, definitely won’t mind.”
Meanwhile, the cat had jumped right onto Dipper’s shoulders and, still purring, began to twitch her front paws as if stuffing a pillow. She no longer paid attention to Bill, who was glaring at her, and contentedly dug her rounded claws into Dipper’s skin.
Feeling the long fur tickling his neck and cheeks, and the paws kneading his shoulder, the boy pressed his lips together and, closing his eyes, let out a soft squeak.
He loved animals terribly. The thing was, not all animals loved him back. Their house cat, who lived with his mother, always preferred Mabel to Dipper, even though the boy was the one who fed him. The cat responded rather stubbornly to all attempts to pet him, digging a claw deep into outstretched palm. Over time, with at least two scars appearing on each finger, Dipper gave up trying to befriend the wicked cat and switched to birds. But getting a parrot when there’s a predator in the house is clearly not the best idea.
Having buried the remains of the poor bird, which didn’t even live three days, Dipper resigned himself to it, no longer trying to get a pet, and contented himself with the occasional cuddles with Waddles.
“Stop it, Pine Tree,” Bill grumbled, watching the delightedly squealing boy. “Seriously, it’s just a cat. A brazen, huge cat, very good at manipulating people.”
“Yeah,” Dipper nodded, ignoring the other’s muttering. “I’ll name her Ignis. What do you think about that?” he turned his head toward the cat’s face. A snow-white paw with soft pink pads and tufts of fur between them rested right on the boy’s nose. Dipper sighed loudly.
“Okay, let’s go home then.”
“It feels like I’ve suddenly been forgotten,” Bill continued to whine all the way to the shack. “If I left now, would anyone even notice?”
“Enough already, you’re grumbling like an old man,” Dipper clicked his tongue and grabbed Cipher’s wrist. “And you’re not going anywhere, don’t even think about it.”
Surprisingly, uncle Stan didn’t object to the cat. He merely cast a condescending glance at his grand-nephew and apparently decided that seventeen was a perfectly appropriate age to take care of an animal.
“You’ll clean up after her yourself,” he grumbled and turned his attention back to the television.
Dipper nodded dutifully and, while everyone else — except Bill, who only stopped glaring angrily at the cat the moment he stepped through the Shack’s door — heaped Ignis with compliments, he sketched his beauty in his journal.
“I take it you don’t need the spell anymore?” Cipher asked, crossing his arms and sitting down next to Dipper.
“Yeah-yeah, just a moment,” the boy replied, listing Ignis’s peculiarities: her enormous size, unusually large for a female, and, of course, her fire breath. “Do you think her palate is black because of the fire, or is it just a natural color?.. I’ll have to ask uncle Ford.”
Dipper bit his pen thoughtfully, ignoring the demon’s irritated sigh, and turned his gaze to the cat, who gracefully flicked her long, fluffy tail and stared at Bill with an unblinking yellow eye. Her left ear twitched slightly.
“It’s you who is like this, not me!” Bill hissed under his breath, looking at the cat.
“Wait,” Dipper perked up. “Do you understand her?!”
Cipher pursed his lips with some annoyance and nodded.
“Well, sort of,” his answer almost completely drowned out Mabel’s delighted laughter. She was playing with Ignis and shoelace, laughing heartily every time the snow-white huntress stood on her hind legs to catch the end of it. To keep the cat from snatching it, Mabel had to raise her hand very high. Soos kept clicking his camera all this time.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Dipper was indignant. Bill frowned and lightly flicked the boy right over his birthmark.
“Your brain has completely switched off from affection, hasn’t it, Pine Tree?" he drawled mockingly. “I told you, actually. Just not directly.”
Swallowing the indignation that was threatening to burst forth, Dipper sighed and automatically smoothed his bangs, letting them cover his forehead.
“So, you’re literally reading her mind?” he asked. Cipher rolled his eyes.
“I can’t read minds now, Pine Tree,” the demon snapped. “And I certainly don’t read the mind of that stinking awful…”
“Bill!”
“…cat. It’s just understanding. Just like you humans can tell what someone is feeling by their facial expressions, I can tell what this lump is thinking. I don’t know how best to explain it,” the teenager waved his hand. “And she, in case you were wondering, doesn’t think the way you do.”
“I honestly don’t quite understand what you mean,” Dipper said, scratching his temple with the writing end of his pen. Bill, looking at the ink lines on boy’s skin, chuckled.
“You’ll understand, when your brain turns back on.”
“It
is turned on,” Dipper whispered, a little offended. Handing the journal and pen to Cypher, he said, “Here, write your spell. And God forbid you draw something indecent — I’ll ask Ignis to fry you until crispy and feed the resulting mess to Waddles.”
Dipper ignored the compliments to his threats. He grabbed his sister, who immediately made a disgruntled face at being interrupted from playing with funny, adorable cat, and dragged her into the hallway. Two pairs of amber eyes followed the twins until they disappeared around the corner.
“What?” Mabel smiled.
“Here,” Dipper pulled a moonstone from his pocket and showed it to the girl. “I want to show you how to remove and restore the barrier.” And in response to his sister’s skeptical look, he added, “Just in case you need it and I’m not around. You’re not going to ask uncle Ford, are you?”
Ford, returning late that evening, overwhelmed his grand-nephew with vivid details of his research. He showed Dipper a picture of a huge bird, very similar in appearance to an eagle, if you ignore the spontaneous combustion issue, of course, and spent three hours passionately describing how the Phoenix had nearly burned him once, almost pecked him to death a second time, and how its piercing scream had left him deaf for an hour.
"Tomorrow morning, I want to go back to the cave behind the waterfall; it's clearly got a nest there; it would be wonderful to see it. It's surprising that it's nesting near the water... I need to find out why."
Ford flipped through a slightly scorched page of his notebook, and it took all of Dipper's self-control not to stand up and slap the demon, who stood behind the scientist, covering a sly smile with one hand while giving Ford a horns with the other.
"Like a little child," Dipper thought, managing to keep his face perfectly neutral.
"Why did he even come down?"
"It feeds on fish, which is why fishermen see it most often," his uncle declared. "I've seen it steal their freshly caught fish. It looks like a little sun diving on the boat."
"But It doesn't attack the fishermen themselves?" Dipper asked, trying not to glance sideways at Bill, who was actively pretending to be a bird, waving his arms.
"What's gotten into him?"
"Witnesses say there were no attacks," Ford nodded. "But I think that's because none of them tried to get close to the Phoenix or, even more, harm it."
"Yeah, only a fool would attack a burning bird," Dipper said with a sigh. He managed to cast Cipher a disgruntled glance when his uncle looked down at his notes, and Bill, biting his lip as a smile spread across his face, went to the kitchen cabinets to make himself some tea. Stanford, noticing movement off to the side, looked at the demon and frowned.
"How was your day?" he asked, fixing Bill with an unreadable gaze. Dipper perked up immediately. Before the scientist's arrival, he'd managed to persuade everyone in the house to stick to the story that Ignis had come to the Shack herself — well, maybe she was attracted by the smell of food, and anyway, she's a cat, they go where they want — so he'd lied to his uncle without much fear of being discovered.
“Mostly, we spent the whole day at the shop,” the boy ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the fringe on his forehead. “Mabel decided to play ball with Soos when there were no visitors, and they smashed one of the exhibits. You know, the one with a fish head and a monkey body.”
Ford gave a faint smile.
“Stanley probably yelled at them for three hours,” he suggested. Dipper nodded vigorously.
“Yes, yes — we even had to escape to the porch, otherwise our ears would’ve gotten curled.”
Bill loudly snorted into his tea mug, but since he was standing with his back to the speakers, he didn’t see how both Pines shot him angry looks.
“And that’s when we noticed someone, uncle,” Dipper quickly said, pulling out his journal and showing Ford his notes about his new pet. “I named her Ignis.”
Stanford pulled the journal toward himself, and the boy thought that he’d have liked to show the actual cat instead of just a picture. But Ignis had gone into the forest a few hours before Ford’s return, and Dipper hadn’t stopped her: let her roam wherever she wanted — she was, after all, a free animal.
The old man carefully read through his grand-nephew’s uneven handwriting, occasionally nodding at the recorded assumptions.
“Amazing!” the uncle exclaimed a few minutes later. “Another anomaly that appeared after Weirdmageddon. Does she look like…?”
“A Maine Coon, yes,” the youth confirmed. “She’s so huge! I haven’t measured her yet, but roughly, if she stands on her hind legs and stretches up, she’d reach my waist.”
The demon’s noisy sigh didn’t stop Dipper from enthusiastically describing every second of his encounter with Ignis. He wasn’t planning to lie much here — he just changed the location: instead of the clearing near Bill’s statue, Ignis had tried to roast Cypher on the Shack’s porch.
Dipper didn’t mention that Bill could understand the cat. Instead, he shared a story about how Ignis had tried to catch Waddles, chasing him all over the house and knocking everything over in her path — even uncle Stan.
“Yeah, the old moron got quite a beating today,” Bill chuckled, closing his eyes and replaying in his mind the spectacular moment when Stanley had fallen. “And the way he swore… Even I heard some words for the first time!”
Ford cleared his throat into his fist, ignoring the demon’s words. Dipper just shook his head.
“You got your share too. Wanna show off those burns on your backside — you know, the ones you got after nearly sitting on Ignis?” he smirked. Cypher whirled around and stared at the boy in indignation.
“That never happened!” he lied, and instinctively reached to rub his scorched buttocks. Ford and Dipper burst out laughing. Bill narrowed his eyes in annoyance but didn’t say anything. He just place a finger across his throat when Ford turned away and, obviously hinting at something, winked at the suddenly nervous teenager.
Dipper genuinely didn’t see the point in nagging about that experiment — sure, it wasn’t a great thing to do, but Bill hadn’t been hurt, right? At least he now knew for certain that his powers were with him and protected him from dangers.
“Cut it out,” Dipper muttered quietly when his uncle said goodbye and went to his room.
“Cut out what?” Cypher grinned. “I’m not doing anything right now, I’m just drinking tea.”
Dipper’s heavy sigh only earned a broad smile from the demon.
“Till the death, Pine Tree!” he sang out.
Dipper just waved him off and left. On his way to the attic, he popped in to see uncle Ford and borrowed a few of his books that might help decipher the magical symbols. Of course, the boy didn’t tell him why he needed those books. He spread the heavy tomes out on his bed — which the cheeky demon hadn’t yet managed to claim — then pulled out his journal, a can of energy drink, and got ready to study all night.
He woke up to a strange sensation: something incredibly heavy was pressing on his chest and making it hard to breathe. Dipper, who had never experienced sleep paralysis before, tried to take a breath to quell the rising panic and opened his eyes. Ignis was looking at him, her golden irises shining with thin lines of pupils. As soon as the young man opened his eyes, her heavy paws immediately started kneading his chest. The cat let out a soft, high‑pitched meow.
“Oh my God…” Dipper covered his eyes with his hand. “I thought some kind of fiend was strangling me.”
A quiet snort came from the left.
“I hope you weren’t calling
me a fiend just now,” Bill said.
Ignis meowed again — this time louder and more insistently. Dipper sighed, removed his hand from his face and lifted his head slightly.
“What is it?”
The cat, clearly delighted by these simple movements from the human, immediately jumped onto the floor and started meowing even louder. Her huge eyes stayed fixed on the sleepy guy. Dipper yawned.
“I don’t get it,” he mumbled indistinctly through a yawn. Ignis immediately rose onto her hind legs, propped her front paws against the edge of the bed, and gently bit Dipper’s ankle.
“Ow!” Dipper exclaimed, jerking his leg. “What now?”
Ignis dashed toward the door.
“Do you want to play?” the guy glanced at the alarm clock and marveled. “But it’s only four‑thirty!”
“She wants you to go with her, you dimwit,” Bill rolled his eyes. On his bed stood a desk lamp lighting up the book Cypher was reading. “And I also want you both to get out of here — you’re being a nuisance. Silence, as it turns out, is such a delight.”
Ignis immediately hissed at him. Bill didn’t let it pass and stuck his tongue out at her.
“All right,” Dipper rubbed his sleepy face and got up. Books immediately tumbled off his legs and the bed. Ignis jumped in place and dashed downstairs.
“So this is what it’s like to have a pet,” the youth sighed resignedly and trudged after the cat, whose whiteness stood out brightly in the dim light.
“Where are you leading me?” Dipper asked, climbing out the window after the cat. Ignis meowed and ran on.
“All right, I get it,” the boy nodded, not really understanding what was expected of him, but kept going — Ignis had already disappeared behind the trees, only occasionally meowing to hurry up the lagging teenager.
Walking through the forest in just slippers wasn’t very pleasant: the morning dew had soaked his feet, and now they were sliding inside the rubber soles. On top of that, the slippers themselves kept slipping on the wet grass, making Dipper nearly fall twice. Ignis had already vanished from sight, leaving the boy alone with the sleeping expanse of trees. A fresh wind lazily stirred the fir branches, which sometimes touched Dipper’s head. He brushed a spider off his shoulder — it had fallen onto him from a tree — and sighed heavily, then sat down on the nearest rock. He immediately fell over, having slipped on the wet surface.
“Great,” he smiled stiffly, feeling his T‑shirt getting wet on the back. Blades of grass tickled his skin. Tucking in his chilled toes, Dipper propped himself up on his elbows — and right away heard a thunderous purring nearby.
“Ignis, why did you call me?” the guy asked, falling back onto his back. “It’s still so early…”
The purring now sounded much closer and louder.
“And I’m glad to see you too,” Dipper smiled weakly, hearing the grass rustle under the cat’s paws. The cat sat down right next to the teenager’s face. Something small and grey fluttered in her teeth.
“Good job,” Dipper praised her, recognizing a mouse as the prey. “You're the deadliest predator…”
“But why did you call me anyway?” he thought, closing his eyes slightly, a bit annoyed, and let out a long yawn. And then he suddenly felt something rough, faintly moving and with a nasty metallic taste land on his tongue.
Dipper’s eyes flew open in horror, he jumped up and spat it out. A small half‑alive mouse fell to the ground. The guy froze above it, tongue sticking out of his mouth. Ignis meowed discontentedly and covered the mouse with her paw. Dipper slowly brought his hand to his mouth and looked at the cat — her gaze clearly showed disapproval.
“You…” he whispered, stunned. Then he started wiping his tongue on his T‑shirt, shouting through the whole forest, but the bitter taste of mouse fur and blood seemed to have seeped in and refused to go away.
Dipper ran all the way home and headed straight for the bathroom. He used up the entire tube of toothpaste cleaning his teeth and tongue that had touched the mouse — which later earned him Mabel’s indignation.
“Did you eat the toothpaste or what?” she asked displeasedly at breakfast. Dipper raised a hunted look to his sister.
“Never mind,” he muttered. The half‑alive mouse Ignis had shared with him still lingered in his mind. Unintentionally replaying the incident, he recalled how the animal had faintly stirred in his mouth. Dipper shuddered.
“What’s wrong?” Mabel asked, gently patting her brother’s shoulder. Dipper shook his head.
“Hey, Pine Tree, your white furball’s complaining about you,” Bill’s mocking voice came from the living room. “She says you rejected her gift.”
“Gift?..” Dipper repeated in a half‑whisper, then burst into a shout. “GIFT?! She put a mouse in my mouth! Alive one! That’s
not a gift!”
Mabel and Bill — who had just walked into the kitchen — stared at the guy as if he were crazy.
“What’s wrong with mouse?” Cypher didn’t get it.
“Well, what did you expect — her to put a pizza in your mouth?” Mabel asked. “She’s a cat — she offered you what she loves herself.”
Ignis, now hiding under the sofa in the living room, let out an angry meow across the entire ground floor, confirming the girl’s words. Dipper let out a pitiful howl and dropped his face onto the table. It seemed he had just acquired a new lifelong psychological trauma.
