Mabel woke up with the relieved sigh of someone who got enough sleep. She felt much, much better after last night. She didn't know what time it was; but the automatic lights in the bunker had turned on, so she at least knew it was morning.

She sat up and yawned. It was then that she realized something was wrong.

Dipper had fallen asleep next to her, she was sure of that. But now he was gone. His sleeping bag was all rumpled, and Mabel couldn't see his shoes, either. Huh. How long had she overslept?

She got to her feet, stretching, and padded out from behind the shelf where her and Dipper's sleeping bags were situated. Ford was sitting up on his cot, blinking slowly as if he had just woken up as well.

"Hey, Grunkle Ford," Mabel said softly. She wanted to say something — apologize, or demand an apology from him, or something. But all she could bring herself to say was, "Have you seen Dipper?"

Ford frowned. "No. Wasn't he sleeping next to you?"

"He was," Mabel said. He fell asleep next to me, she thought, like he was protecting me from you. "But he's not there now." She cast her eyes around the small bunker, but the only thing that obstructed one's view was the shelf of food that separated their sleeping areas. If Dipper wasn't on either side of the shelf. . .

She started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Ford asked immediately.

"He's not in here," Mabel said. "I bet he woke up early and is just getting some fresh air."

That was her hope, of course. She was doing her best to hold back the panic that something worse had happened.

"Mabel, you can't just—"

"Then come with me." She pulled the lever to open the door. Ford was glaring at her, but she didn't glare back. "Grunkle Ford, what if something happened to him?" she whispered.

Ford got off the cot and followed after her.

The winter morning was bright and freezing. Mabel shielded her eyes, realizing it had been days since she had seen sunlight. The thought made the cold sunlight feel a lot better.

Once her eyes adjusted, she scanned the area. Ford stood on the stairs, presumably to stop the bunker entrance from closing behind them.

"Dipper!" Mabel called. "Dip, are you out here!"

"Attracting the whole town, are you?" Ford asked from behind her.

She forced herself to ignore him. "Dipper!"

Nothing.

She pushed down fear like it was bile. He was fine; he just couldn't hear her. He was nearby; he had to be, or—

An object in the snow.

Mabel ran over to it, her heart pounding in her chest. She stared down at it. "Grunkle Ford, I found a flashlight!" She bent down to get it, then frowned down at the ground. "And there's something else. . . ." She crouched, looking at the scratches in the snow. They had been done in a hurry, but they looked like. . . letters. "P. . . A. . . Z."

With a gasp, Mabel's hands flew to her mouth, and the flashlight fell back into the snow. "Paz," she whispered.

She sat there in shock, staring down at the message left by her brother. It had to be a message from him. She recognized the flashlight, and there were footsteps she could see now that she was closer to the ground. When he dropped it, he must've had an opportunity to leave this small message in the snow.

"Mabel? What's over there?" Ford called.

Mabel forced herself to her feet, clutching the flashlight to her chest like it was a lifeline. She plodded back through the snow to Ford.

"Mabel?" he asked quietly when he saw the look on her face.

"Pacifica has him." The words were numb and hollow. "He. . . he's gone."

The words hung in the air for a moment before they hit Mabel with full force. She threw herself onto Ford, sobbing into his grimy trench coat. He stood frozen for a minute; then, Mabel felt his arms slowly wrap around her. They were loose and awkward, but they were still there.

Mabel cried. She wished that Ford would do something to comfort her. She wished that Dipper was there to comfort her instead. But Dipper was gone; he was gone; Pacifica took him; he was gone—

"Mabel, we've got to go back inside."

Pacifica came — Dipper was gone—

"Mabel."

She didn't respond; she couldn't respond. She felt herself being lifted into the air, hoisted up by Ford's arms, and she let go of his trench coat just long enough to grab it again once she was up by his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she buried her face into his shoulder, and Mabel continued crying as Ford carried her brusquely down the stairs.

Wait—

Why were they going back down? Why weren't they going after them? Wait — no — they had to go after them!

Ford didn't set her down until the bunker door had closed with a thump behind him. Mabel managed to stay on her feet, blinking up at Ford as her thoughts slowly reassembled.

Wait!

She didn't even take time to wipe the tears off her face. "Grunkle Ford, we have to go after him!" She lunged for the lever that would open the door.

Ford held her back. "Wait, Mabel. I know you want to get your brother back, but we can't—"

"Let me go! Let me go; I'm going after him! Let me go!"

"Mabel, listen—"

"Move! I have to get to him!"

"Mabel!" Ford shouted, causing her to jump back. He took a breath in the silence. "We have to make a plan."

She stared up at him. Then her head started bobbing. "Right. Okay. Right. A plan. We'll make a plan. Then we'll go get Dipper."

Ford looked concerned as he gazed down at her, but Mabel ignored him. She turned and ran over to her duffle bag, the one she was supposed to use to camp with Robbie three days ago, and rustled through it until she pulled something out of the bottom. The heavy maroon tome wobbled in her arms as she stood and clutched it to her chest. She went back to Ford and started rifling through the Journal. "Maybe we can find something in here that will help save him. I think there's this—"

Her eyes glanced up at Ford in passing, then locked on his face when she saw his expression. Looking at his face was like plunging into icy water. Her frenzied mind, like water particles bouncing around in the air, suddenly froze into solid ice.

"Mabel," Ford said. His voice was deathly quiet. "What is that?"

Her eyes slid from his face down to the Journal.

The Journal!

She was holding the Journal. In front of Ford.

Oh, no.

"Where. . . did you get that?"

How did this happen? In her panic, she had thought it reasonable to bring out the Journal, of all things! Her frozen thoughts were no help; they refused to move into something to say. Instead, she snapped the Journal closed and held it against her chest.

"Mabel, if you're holding what I think you're holding—"

"I-it's mine."

The words were out before she realized what a mistake they were. She held her breath as Ford's face slowly turned purple. "I don't know how long you've had that," he said, "but you must have put it together that that is mine. Where did you find it?" His voice was nearly monotone. It was terrifying.

Mabel shied back. "I-I just—"

"Where did you find it."

"O-out in the woods! But I—"

"Give it to me." He reached for it with a six-fingered hand, nearly touching the similar hand engraved on the cover of the Journal.

Mabel jerked it away from him. "I-I know I should—"

"Give it to me."

"But we can use this to help Dipper!" Mabel pivoted out of the way as Ford reached again for his Journal.

Ford's voice was getting more and more angry. "Give it to me!"

Mabel's thoughts unfroze. He was going to take it. He was going to take the Journal and never give it back and never go after Dipper, and Mabel had to save Dipper, and she needed the Journal to save Dipper, and—

She had to keep it safe.

She ducked under Ford's outstretched arm and lunged for the lever to open the bunker door. She backed up against the wall and pulled the lever. Ford didn't seem to notice.

"Mabel Pines! Give me my Journal, now!"

The bunker started rumbling as the machinery kicked in. Ford looked around, his eyes falling on the thrown lever.

Mabel couldn't risk him shutting the door. If she ran to the other side of him, maybe he would think it was an accident. The other option was defending both the lever and the Journal at the same time.

"Grunkle Ford, please," she said as she circled carefully around him, the Journal still clutched tightly to her chest. "I-I know it's yours, a-and I can give it to you once we s-save Dipper—"

"You will give it to me now!" He lunged at her, but she had made it all the way around. The lever was behind him now. As she danced out of his reach, the bunker door opened with a thud of finality.

Something dawned in Ford's eyes as Mabel stepped backwards onto the stairs. "No," he said. "Mabel Pines, don't you dare—"

His face was livid. Mabel forced herself not to cower under his gaze. "I-I have to save Dipper," she said weakly.

Then she turned and ran up the stairs, throwing the external lever (which was disguised as a tree branch), on the way.

The machinery rumbled again as the bunker started to close with Ford inside. The vibrations grew further and further away as Mabel raced through the snow, away from the bunker and away from her great uncle. It wasn't until she could no longer feel the mechanical tremors that the reality of her situation fully hit her.

She had run away. Dipper had been captured. All she had was her Journal and her love for her brother. Ford likely hated her now.

Mabel was on her own.