"What are we going to tell Ford and Melody?" Dipper asked.

Mabel stopped, her feet sinking deeper into the snow, and turned to him with wide eyes. "What are we going to tell them?" she repeated, a touch of horror appearing in her voice. "Ford will know we came out here, after he told us not to!"

"Maybe Ford won't see," Dipper said, tugging her along gently. "He's holed up in his lab most of the time, anyway."

"But what will we tell Melody?" Mabel suspected she would be the one who would help the twins: She seemed to do most of the jobs around the Museum as it was, and she was there for much of the day.

"That we got attacked by a perfectly normal animal. Like bats!"

"But then she'll think we got rabies," Mabel pointed out. She thought that the fairies hadn't transferred any diseases to the twins. She hoped.

"We can probably tell Melody the truth," Dipper said. "Don't you think?"

"I don't know," Mabel said. Melody was nice, and Mabel enjoyed being around her; her upbeat nature had made the last three days a bit more bearable than they might have been. But did that mean that Melody could be trusted? She might tell Ford that the twins had disobeyed him. She might help Ford keep the twins trapped inside the Museum, so that they couldn't get hurt again. And, yes, the fairies' attacks had hurt — they still hurt — but Mabel thought it was worth it. After all, they had gotten to see fairies — even if those fairies were jerks. The fact that their first supernatural adventure ended in mild injury just made it more exciting.

"We don't have to show her the Journal," Dipper said. "We can just say we ran into the fairies, and they attacked us. That is what happened."

Mabel took a few more steps before answering. "Okay," she finally said. Maybe Melody knew something about fairy bites and how to treat them that the twins didn't. At the very least, they needed an adult's help, even if it wasn't Ford's.

The way back to the Museum seemed longer than the trip out had — probably because the twins were tired, plus Mabel had to navigate with her compass to make sure they were going the right way. Finally, they saw the building through the trees. Mabel had been so excited to leave the Museum this morning; but now that she was tired and cold and injured, she was happy to return to it.

The twins entered quietly, and Mabel hurried up the stairs to hide the Journal in their shared attic room. When she came back down, she found Dipper rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. "Maybe we can find something to put on the bites ourselves," he said. "Where do you think everybody is?"

"Melody is probably running a tour, and I bet Ford is back in his lab," Mabel said. Aside from meals, the twins rarely saw their great uncle. It was frustrating and lonely — although, now that she had the Journal, Mabel thought Ford's absence might work to her advantage.

Maybe, by reading the Journal, she could get to know her uncle the adventurer. The adventurous Ford seemed to be gone now, and all Mabel got were glimpses of her uncle the recluse; but maybe, just maybe, the Ford described in the Journals would live up to Mabel's hopes.

Maybe it would make up for his behavior in real life.

"Here we go!" Dipper pulled out a tube of pain relieving cream and held it up so Mabel could see. "This'll work, right?"

"I think so," Mabel said. The twins rubbed the cream into each other's fairy bites and theorized about why the fairies were so mean. Mabel thought they'd simply had bad experiences with humans coming into their home, but Dipper thought they had once been humans and they were just mad about being so small. With that, the twins' debate turned to what was better: being small, but having wings, or being human size. Mabel thought it'd be hard to be so tiny if everyone else was big, but wings would definitely make up for that. Besides, the fairies handled themselves just fine against the human-sized twins.

"Do you think normal medicine will work against magical fairy bites?" asked Mabel, after they'd finished with the cream.

"I don't see why not," Dipper said. "It already feels good."

True, it did. But, Mabel wondered if they should still tell someone — at least Melody — in case they needed to do more than just rub salve into the bites.

She didn't need to wonder. An object in the shape of Ford suddenly appeared in the entrance to the kitchen. "Did I just hear 'magical fairy bites'?" he demanded.

Mabel squeaked in surprise and stared at her uncle. "Gr-Grunkle Ford!" she stammered. "I thought you were back in your lab!"

Ford crossed his arms. "So," he said, "you went out into the forest anyway."

"Yep!" said Dipper, seeming unconcerned at Ford's disapproval. "You weren't lying when you said fairies were territorial. Those guys are jerks."

There was a moment of silence. Mabel held her breath, afraid of what Ford might do. Finally, he simply let out a breath, entered the kitchen, pulled a chair out from the table, and sat down. "And what did you think of them, Mabel?" he asked calmly — though perhaps it was a forced calm.

"I — um—" She hadn't expected this. "They're really beautiful," she said weakly.

"Even while they're attacking you?"

"W-well. . . it's harder to see them when they're biting your face," she admitted.

Her comment elicited a short laugh from Ford. "True," he said.

Did this mean that he wasn't mad at them? Mabel didn't dare ask. "Is there. . . um, is there anything special we need to do to treat the bites?"

Ford shook his head. "The cream you used should be just fine."

"O-okay."

Another moment was lost to the silence. Ford shifted in his chair, leaning forward. "It's a good thing you got away with only the bites," he remarked.

"They hit us with little wooden swords, too," Dipper said. "It was awesome."

"We ran away before they could use magic on us," Mabel added, though her voice was much softer than her brother's.

"I'm glad they gave you the chance," Ford said. "I've been in some interesting scrapes, trying to research a group that didn't want me around."

Mabel almost asked if he wrote his experiences down in his Journal, but she stopped herself just in time. She would read it and see for herself.

"How'd you get that fossil, then?" she asked instead.

"The one in the Museum? I found it one day. The fairies don't even know it exists, as far as I'm aware."

"Tell us a story about the fairies, Grunkle Ford," Dipper said. "Did they attack you with swords, too?"

Ford shook his head. At first, Mabel thought he was saying that no, they hadn't attacked him with swords; but then he said, "I'm disappointed in you kids. I told you not to go looking for the fairies."

"You actually said you wouldn't take us to see them," Dipper said. "Not that we couldn't go ourselves."

For that comment, he got a glare from Ford. "It was implied," their uncle said stiffly.

"So are you going to keep loading us down with chores so we can't go exploring?" Mabel asked. "Or are you going to come with us?"

As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. Or, a part of her did — most of her was glad she'd finally said something.

Ford turned his glare on her, then closed his eyes. "Neither," he said, "though I still expect you to help out around here." He opened his eyes and fixed them with a firm stare. "And I do hope that your experiences today have taught you to be more careful. If those fairies had used magic, you might not be back here to tell the tale. The forest is dangerous, kids, and I don't say that lightly."

Mabel's gaze slipped to the floor.

"I don't want to force you," Ford said, "and I don't want to make this trip a miserable one for you. But I also don't want to have to supervise you at all times."

"So. . . we'll just go exploring by ourselves?" said Dipper. "As long as we're careful?"

Ford put a hand to his head. "No. I don't want you to go out into that forest at all."

"But you won't stop us," Dipper finished.

"I don't get it," Mabel blurted. "Why won't you come with us? You can supervise us and show us all the cool stuff out there!" If he did, she could give him the Journal.

The hand on Ford's head moved to rub at his eyes. "I don't go out into the field anymore," he said.

"Why not?" Mabel insisted.

But Ford wouldn't answer. "I don't go out into the field anymore," he repeated, "and I hope you'll have the sense to follow my example." With that, he stood up and left the kitchen.

"What's with him?" said Dipper.

Mabel poked her head out of the kitchen just as Ford disappeared down the hallway. "Maybe it has to do with the last page of that Journal," she said quietly to Dipper. "I guess he ran out of people to trust."

"What about us? Why not trust us?"

His words brought back her guilt. "We did just break his trust," she said. "And we're keeping the Journal from him."

"If he's not going to take us exploring, I don't think he deserves it back," Dipper said stubbornly.

Mabel shrugged half-heartedly.

The twins made themselves lunch from what they could find in the kitchen. Ford came back into the kitchen partway through ("I forgot to get my food," he said gruffly) and left after grabbing a container from the fridge. Mabel glanced up at him but didn't say anything.

After eating, the twins went to hang out with Robbie in the gift shop. The rest of the day passed languidly; by the time they finally had dinner with Melody and Ford, Mabel was bursting to escape upstairs and read the Journal. Melody asked about the still-visible fairy bites on their faces, and Ford gruffly explained their disobedience. It made Mabel feel guilty, but she was mostly focused on getting out of there.

Dipper offered to help with the dinner dishes; Mabel excused herself and hurried up to the attic. Fifteen minutes later, Dipper came upstairs and found her reading the Journal. She didn't stop until she'd read the whole thing through; by then, it was late, but she didn't feel tired. Dipper was long since asleep, leaving Mabel to read with a pen light, turned so that her body blocked the light from the rest of the room.

The Journal was amazing — and confusing. There were ripped-out pages, pages with unknown and strangely labeled diagrams, and unknowable codes littered throughout. Mabel wanted to ask Ford about it, but she knew she couldn't. There was still plenty that she could understand — and all of it was exciting.

She glanced over her shoulder at Dipper, who seemed deeply asleep. She'd sleep soon, she decided. But not yet. She flipped back through the Journal, rereading pages at random. The words started to swim before her eyes, but she kept reading — until she arrived at a page near the end of the Journal that was different from all the rest.

Half of the page was ripped at the binding, as if someone had stopped partway through tearing it out. Dark reddish-brown splotches were scattered across the page, and Mabel thought they were drops of blood. The most intriguing part about it, though, was the one-eyed triangle drawn at the top of the page. It looked like the symbol of the Illuminati, but the Journal labelled it as Bill Cipher.

"Cipher won't let me," the Northwest boy had said earlier. Was this what he was talking about? The Journal page described this Bill Cipher as a dream demon. Whatever that was, Mabel didn't like the sound of it. Who was Bill Cipher, and what did he have to do with that strange, white-haired boy? Did Mabel want to know?

It was late, and the house creaking in the wind gave her chills. She decided that she probably didn't want to know — at least, not this late at night.

She closed the Journal and slid it under her bed. Her penlight clicked to darkness, and she lay back on her pillow. Everything she had read over the last few hours — every amazing thing — swam in front of her eyes when she closed them. She felt exhausted but exhilarated. Ford was right when he said the creatures around here were dangerous — but they were also beautiful and exciting. Once again, Mabel wondered where the adventurous Ford had gone — the one that had drawn all those pictures and researched all those creatures. Deep down, was her uncle still the excited explorer that Mabel had dreamed of meeting; or did that man live solely in the pages of his Journal?

With a sigh, Mabel decided she wouldn't know unless she told him about the Journal. And that wasn't an option. The Journal was all she had of her uncle's field work, and she couldn't risk losing it. Not when she had so many possibilities ahead of her.

She let herself get lost in sleepy fantasies about the wonderful creatures found in the Journal; whatever guilt she had over hiding the Journal was quickly lost to her imagination. Soon, Mabel fell asleep with a smile on her face.

END OF EPISODE ONE