Both twins were determined to get away from the Museum and go out into the forest. They couldn't escape, however, for quite some time. After their chores, on that first day, was dinner. Melody stayed past the closing of the Museum, prepared the meal, and ate it with them; she didn't seem to understand why the air between Ford and the twins was suddenly so frosty. But Mabel couldn't bring herself to look at the man, much less talk to him.

The next day — their first full day in Gravity Rises — was far too busy for the twins to sneak out. A huge busload of tourists arrived that morning, and Mabel and Dipper were forced to act as crowd control for the masses. (Mabel discovered that she would rather clean a thousand museums than have that responsibility ever again.) Then, once the chaos had finally died down, the day was practically over.

The day after that was more chores. It wasn't until the third day of the twins waking up in the Museum attic that Melody declared they'd had more than enough, and they deserved to actually enjoy their winter break, don't you think?

Finally. Finally, after three days of mind-numbing work — three days of torture as they longed for their chance to explore — the twins could leave. They could get out of the Mystery Museum (which quickly ran out of mysteries if you were stuck inside of it for three days) and blaze a trail through the forest.

So they blazed away.

They didn't dare tell Ford what they were doing or ask for supplies. Instead, they bundled up as best they could in their winter gear and, with the loud swishing of their snow pants in their ears, slipped from the Museum.

Once outside, they felt an immediate chill from the winter air, but this did little to dampen their enthusiastic mood: Both Dipper and Mabel felt better than they had in days. "Let's go find a fairy!" Dipper crowed, and Mabel was too happy to even shush her brother. With a quick glance back at the Museum to make sure they hadn't been overheard, she followed Dipper to the back of the building and into the forest beyond.

Soon, the twins found themselves in deep snow that took a lot of energy just to walk through. Energy was something that, in the present moment, both of them had in great supply; still, their progress was slower than Mabel had expected.

Dipper practically bounded through the trees, seeming uninhibited by the deep holes of snow that formed with each step. "What else do you think we'll see, Mabes?" he asked, turning around and attempting to walk backwards and falling on his backside.

Mabel helped him back to his feet (which was not an easy feat in this snow). "Anything," she said with a grin. "We could see anything out here."

Despite this optimistic reply, though, they didn't see anything supernatural. Not for a while. Mabel tried not to get anxious, for there was still plenty to see. The surrounding forest was beautiful: The mid-morning sunlight slanted through the trees and formed dappled shadows on the undisturbed snow. But there were no magical creatures or even normal animals. The winter forest seemed as empty as it was beautiful.

"Where do you think everything is?" said Dipper. Mabel winced a bit at his volume — probably, everything was hiding from them, because they were being so loud.

"Maybe if we're quiet, we'll see something," she said. Dipper pouted at this, but Mabel wasn't paying attention to him. Instead, she looked down at the compass in her hands. The compass — a must-have for any adventurer — was a birthday present from her parents last summer, and she was glad to have it with her. As beautiful as this forest was, it was also cold, and she had no desire to get lost in it.

The morning passed. The twins continued through the trees, their enthusiasm slipping a bit with each labored step. No creature, magical or mundane, showed itself. It wasn't too long before Mabel, making her way over to a nearby tree, called for them to stop.

"This is exhausting," she said, glancing balefully at the snow around them.

"Aw, Mabel, don't give up!" said Dipper. "We gotta find a fairy!"

She waved a hand. "I just need a minute." She leaned her back against the tree, pulled off her sweaty woolen hat, and took deep breaths. Dipper joined her.

Mabel turned her head to look at him. "Dipper," she said, "do you think we'll actually find anything?" Voicing her doubts — which had been growing in her chest all morning — was painful. But she had to face reality sometime, didn't she?

"We've already found stuff," Dipper replied. "I mean, look at this place!" He swept out an arm and gestured to the forest around them. "So cool."

"I know, but do you think we'll find the supernatural? Are the fairies anywhere near here?"

Dipper shrugged. "We'll just keep looking."

Mabel sighed. This was a huge forest. Maybe they were looking entirely in the wrong place. She rested her head against the tree trunk and closed her eyes.

They snapped open again as she jumped away from the tree.

"Mabes? What's wrong?" Dipper moved to her, looking confused.

"That tree," Mabel said. Her scalp still tingled with the sudden cold, which had instantly seeped through her hair. "That's not — what is that?"

Dipper's confused look deepened. "Huh?"

Mabel pulled off one of her gloves. "I don't think that's a normal tree, Dip." Slowly, she reached out her bare hand and touched the area where her head had just been.

It was cold — which wasn't surprising, but. . . it was a strange form of cold. It didn't feel like wood at all. It felt like. . . like frozen metal. The cold radiated out from the metal; Mabel had been startled by the feeling of it on her scalp.

"Dipper," she breathed, "this is a fake tree."

"Woah, really?" Dipper leaned in, pulling off his own glove and touching the tree trunk. "It is!" He pulled his hand away. "That's cold."

Mabel pulled her glove and her hat back on. "Why do you think it's here?" she said, knocking on the metal with her newly gloved hand. "Who would build a metal tree?"

Instead of answering, Dipper squinted at the tree, brushing Mabel's hand away so he could get a better look. "Mabes, I think this is a compartment."

"What?" Excitement surged through her. "Really?"

"Yeah, it sounded kinda hollow when you tapped on it." He pointed to a small line on the tree. "That looks like a door, doesn't it?"

Mabel looked closer. "Yeah, it does!" she whispered.

Dipper tried to stick his gloved hand into the crack and pull on it, but the space was too small. He pulled off his glove and tried again. This time, he could get his fingers in the crack, but he couldn't get a good grip on it. He frowned. "Hmm." He turned away from the tree and started looking around.

As Dipper searched (though Mabel didn't know what he could possibly find that would help them), she tried herself to open the compartment door. When, with stinging fingers, she found this too difficult, she looked around for some kind of external mechanism that could open it. But she didn't find anything. "Any luck, Dip?" she asked, turning around.

Dipper stood with his back to her; he didn't seem to be looking at all. "Dipper?" Mabel asked again.

He leaned forward, peering into the distance. Then he whipped around, his eyes shining with excitement. "Mabel!" he whispered urgently. "I think I saw something!"

Mabel frowned. "Something that can help us open this door?"

"No, something else! I think I saw a fairy!"

Mabel's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah! C'mon, we gotta follow it!"

"What about the tree?"

"We can come back." Dipper grabbed his sister's hand, pulling her along. "Hurry!"

Mabel looked hurriedly back at the tree, trying to commit its appearance to memory so they could return to it. She pulled out her compass and marked the direction they were going — but Dipper pulled her rapidly behind him, and it was hard to see the compass face clearly. Looking up, she tried to see what Dipper saw. A shimmer in the distance? A colorful flying creature? But she couldn't make anything out. She had to trust that Dipper knew where he was taking her.

Suddenly, Dipper pulled her to a stop. Mabel pinwheeled in the snow, almost falling over, but managed to stay upright. She opened her mouth to ask what was happening, but Dipper put a finger on his lips.

When Dipper was telling her to be quiet, Mabel knew it was serious.

The twins stood behind a cluster of trees. Mabel peered between the trunks and pine needles as Dipper furtively pointed to what he saw. Following his finger, Mabel found. . . a boy. A human boy, by all appearances, who looked to be about her age. He was a strange boy — white hair, formal clothing, blue stone fastened to his lapel — but he was a boy nonetheless. Mabel felt a rush of disappointment, until she realized that the boy was looking at something else. She followed his gaze.

And saw a fairy.

Excitement and nervousness and fear and exhilaration rushed through her all at once. She looked with wide eyes to Dipper, who grinned back. Mabel wanted to scream out in jubilation, but she managed to stay quiet, and so did her brother.

Mabel looked back to the boy and the fairy. They were having a conversation, and she tried to focus on the words through the pounding in her head. (Her excitement, when it found itself unable to express itself verbally, decided to express itself physically.) It was hard to make out the fairy, since it was so small; but she could hear its female voice when she listened hard enough.

"I haven't found any information," the fairy was saying. Her voice was lilting and melodious, but also serious. "I don't think it's anywhere near here. We had no idea that yours was buried here until you found it."

The boy sighed and nodded. "I know," he said, his voice glum. "What about the Northwest's Relief? Have you found anything about that?"

Mabel couldn't tell, but she thought the fairy shook her head. "Nobody that I've spoken to has heard of it. If we do know about it, we know it by a different name. Or, perhaps, it's not a plant in our forest at all."

The boy ran an aggravated hand over his hair. "Okay," he said, though his tone didn't match the word in the least. "Thanks for your help. Keep an ear out for me." He turned to leave.

The fairy was silent for a moment. Then, "Northwest," she said.

The boy turned back.

"Is there a reason you can't just ask him?"

The boy grimaced. "Cipher won't let me," he said. He added, "And he says I can't ask you to ask him for me, either."

"I wasn't offering," the fairy said coolly. "You do understand, I hope, that if this Northwest's Relief turns out to be dangerous, or can otherwise help Cipher, then I will not tell you what I discover."

The grimace tightened. "I understand."

The fairy flew a little higher in the air, and Mabel watched in awe as her dragonfly-shaped wings buzzed back and forth. "Farewell, then."

The boy nodded silently, then jumped into the air. A blue glow sprang up around him; he flew away, borne on the blue light. Mabel froze, her eyes huge. She looked back to the fairy and realized that she was about to leave, too — if Mabel and Dipper didn't go and talk to her now, they would miss their chance.

Dipper seemed to realize this, too, because he burst out from the trees.

"Hi!" he said to the fairy, as Mabel watched in mild horror. "I'm Dipper! You're a real fairy! We've been looking for you all morning — well, not you specifically, but—"

"Human," the fairy said; she sounded startled, but she pulled herself together. "Human, you need to leave."

"My name's Dipper, remember? And anyway, we just wanted to meet you. Right, Mabel?"

Mabel cringed but stepped out from the trees. "Hi," she squeaked out.

The fairy did not seem impressed. "You are not welcome here," she told the twins curtly. Then she flew away.

Mabel's heart sank — then plummeted with fear as Dipper ran after the fairy. "C'mon, Mabes!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Dipper, wait!" Mabel ran after him — what choice did she have? — but she didn't want to follow a fairy who clearly didn't want them around. Part of her was disappointed, since books and movies showed fairies as benevolent and friendly, but most of her was just anxious.

She didn't want to run through this deep snow, either. Somehow, Dipper managed to keep up with the fairy, despite the huge steps that he had to take; but Mabel fell behind. Finally, Dipper and the fairy stopped, and Mabel hurried up to them. "Dip, let's go," she hissed.

"Yes," the fairy said, "you need to leave. You are not welcome here," she repeated. This time, she glanced to the trees, which formed an encircled clearing around the fairy and the twins. Mabel followed her gaze, and her stomach flipped when she saw more fairies hovering near the trees.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "We just — we just wanted to—"

"It doesn't matter what you wanted. You need to leave."

Dipper drew himself up indignantly. "Well, that's not very nice! We're people, too!"

"We do not converse with humans."

"You were just talking to that white-haired kid!"

"He is an exception," the fairy said. "You are not."

People made Mabel feel small all the time; she was used to it. She wasn't used to feeling small because of someone who was no taller than her boots. She found herself getting angry, too, although she didn't say anything. But she felt a strong desire to stay right where she was, simply because this fairy told her she couldn't.

The fairy's eyes narrowed. "Last warning," she said.

"And then what?" Dipper challenged.

"Then this," said a voice from the trees. Mabel's stomach flipped again as she saw the dozens of fairies that had left the trees and were now gathered around the twins.

"Attack," the first fairy said calmly.

The fairies rushed them, and Mabel wondered if this was what Ford meant when he said they were territorial.