Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Crack.

Dipper looked up. He'd been sitting on the back porch, reading over the notes he'd made in his journal that day. Mabel and Stan had been singing karaoke – loudly – so he'd gone out back for some peace and quiet. It was pretty dark, and he couldn't see much of the forest beyond the circle of porch light.

“Hello?” Dipper called.

Silence.

He shrugged and went back to his book. Probably just another stickleg. They looked like sticks, but they were actually little wooden legs. Creepy and annoying, but harmless and surprisingly good at tap dancing. Dipper had even drawn a diagram of it in his book. His theory was that sticklegs used the dancing to communicate in morse code, and if –

Crack. Criiiiick.

Dipper looked up again, but the forest was quiet.

Wait. It was perfectly quiet. No rustling leaves, no owls hooting, not even the tippity-tap of a lone stickleg.

“Who's there?” Dipper said loudly, standing up. “I'm warning you, show yourself or I'll sick my Grunkles on you.”

There came a low, almost inaudible moan.

Oh, man, don't tell me some hiker got lost and hurt?!

He turned and pounded on the back door. “Mabel! Grunkle Stan!” But they were singing too loudly to hear his shouts, and if somebody was really hurt he might not have time to go get them. He dropped his book, grabbed a flashlight and Stan's spare bat from behind the couch, then hurried into the woods.

“Hello?” he called out, sweeping the flashlight from side to side. “Where are you? If you can hear me, please respond! I can help!”

He made it about six or seven yards into the forest before he heard a noise to his right. He froze, listening.

Criiiick.

He turned.

Caught in the beam of a flashlight was a wolf, its black fur mussed and tangled with twigs, its eyes like neon green discs.

Dipper sighed. Wolves could be dangerous, sure, but they rarely bothered humans unless threatened. Heck, the last time he'd been here a wolf had actually chewed on its leg – but it was more or less playful, like a dog with a bone rather than an actual vicious predator.

“Go on, get out of here!” Dipper said loudly, swinging his bat. Harmless or not, it wasn't a good idea to let wolves wander too close to the Shack. Some random tourist might get the wrong idea and try to hurt it.

The wolf shifted. And then it rose up, higher, higher, and Dipper's stomach dropped. The wolf had only been lying down. Now it stood as tall as a car, a shaggy mountain of coarse black fur. Its narrow snout opened. Dull yellow fangs glinted in the light. Its ears laid flat along its skull. A low growl sounded from its throat, so deep it vibrated up through Dipper's shoes. And its eyes had changed, the pupils expanding, glowing a deep bloodlust red.

He ran.

Mabel was halfway through her new favorite song Love is an Unlocked Entry when a weird noise caught her ear, like a possum that had tried to eat a pinecone and was extremely displeased with the ensuing indigestion.

“Hey, Grunkle Stan,” she said.

He was singing much too loudly and off-key to hear, gripping the microphone with both hands. “WE FINISH EACH OTHER'S –”

“Grunkle Stan!”

“THAT'S WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY!”

“GRUNKLE STAN!” Mabel shouted, pausing the karaoke machine. “Did you hear that?”

He grinned. “You mean the sound of me totally owning this song?”

“Grunkle Stan I love you but there is no song that would make your voice sound good. No, I meant –”

“AAAAAAAAAAH!”

The scream came from the backyard. They looked at each other and ran for the door.

Stan reached it first and threw it open. “Agh! KID!”

Dipper was on his knees, trying to fend off a hulking monster of a wolf with a broken bat and a flashlight. He swung wildly with the bat to keep the wolf at bay, shining the light directly in the beast's eyes. The wolf roared with rage and lunged.

“NO!” Mabel screamed, but Dipper rolled just in time. The wolf's claws shredded Dipper's sleeve and bright red blood striped his skin. He went down with a cry.

“KID!”

Stan was sprinting towards Dipper as the wolf spun back to face them. Stan stopped and snarled at it. Somehow in the last two seconds he'd put on brass knuckles and was shaking his fists at the wolf.

“YEAH WHAT'RE YOU LOOKIN' AT, FURBALL?! YOU WANNA PIECE OF ME?!”

The wolf swung its huge head to face Stan, its black lips curled back in a vicious snarl –

– and Mabel saw it.

“Grunkle Stan, STOP!”

“What?” He started to glance at her, confused, just as the wolf lunged. But Mabel had already grabbed the lid of the nearest trash can and flung it like the 1st Place Winner of Piedmont's Semiannual Frisbee Competition. (Which she was.) The lid smacked its lower jaw, hitting its bottom right incisor with a ting. The wolf reared back with a howl of pain.

“Grunkle Stan, get Dipper!” Mabel shouted, sprinting across the lawn.

“Mabel, what're you –”

“Just do it!”

She skidded to a stop on the wet grass, right between Dipper and the wolf. She tried very hard not to think about why the grass was wet. She could hear Dipper gasping behind her as Grunkle Stan hurried to get him on his feet.

The wolf had been pawing at its lower jaw, scraping it so hard it drew long dark gashes in its own flesh. When it couldn't make its tooth stop hurting, it made a horrible wet snarling noise and turned to face them. To her horror, Mabel saw its eyes zero in on something behind her.

It was aiming for Dipper.

“Will!” she shouted up at it. “Will, snap out of it!”

She heard Dipper start to shout when the wolf – Will – lunged again, its paws throwing up clods of dirt as it launched itself into the air.

Instantly Mabel whipped her grappling gun from under her sweater. She took aim and fired. It hit Will's jaw in exactly the same spot – on the same tooth he'd chipped when they'd rollerbladed together last summer.

The impact of the gun snapped Will's head to the side. His own momentum carried him forward and Mabel threw herself out of the way, rolling to a stop at the edge of the forest. Will landed so hard the ground actually shook beneath her feet, and then he just lay there, stunned. Will was now between her and her family, but Dipper and Stan had a clear shot to the Shack.

“Go, he won't hurt me!” Mabel shouted. “That's Will, my ex-boyfriend – he's a werewolf, I can calm him down!”

“That's your ex- whoa!” Stan backed up as the wolf shuddered. “Kid, you and I need to have a serious talk about your taste in guys!”

“Mabel, hurry!” Dipper yelled, starting to run around the wolf. “We have to get to the Shack!”

She started to panic. “I'm telling you it's okay! He only goes after the first thing he smells when he changes, and right now that's –”

It happened almost too fast. The wolf shot forward, jaws open wide, flecks of foam and blood flying from its jowls. Dipper yelled and jerked back, raising both arms, but Mabel could see it happen – the jaws would close – bones snap – blood –

A scream shredded the air.

Stan went white. “MABEL!”

Mabel had slipped between them and the wolf had bitten down, hard, on her shoulder. The weight of it drove her to her knees and she cried out, digging at Will's foaming gums with her fingers.

“Get off of her!” Dipper shouted, punching at the wolf.

But Will's eyes were a crazy red. The wolf in him had tasted blood and wanted more. It bit down harder and she felt her clavicle snap. Lightning stabbed her shoulder and the world spun, tilting crazily.

“Mabel!”

“GET OFF HER!” Stan bellowed.

There was a searing wrench and Mabel found herself on the ground. Or maybe against a tree. It was hard to tell. She moaned.

Dipper's face floated above her, spattered with little red drops like tiny rosebuds. She could hear Stan still shouting, caught the glint of his brass knuckles as he forced Will back into the woods. She was vaguely aware that there was screaming. She wondered if it was her.

Then pure agony swallowed her whole and the world dissolved into the black.

Chapter Text

Mabel felt weird. She woke up slowly, noises and sensations swirling around her like a slow fog. There was Dipper, and Grunkle Stan, and Grunkle Ford. She could hear them talking but she couldn't really tell what they were saying. From the smell of the air, it was early morning. Everything had a fresh clean scent to it. She wasn't surprised to hear the two nerdlings awake, but she knew Stan liked to sleep in as late as possible. Maybe the nerds were planning some science thing and Stan was trying to talk them out of it.

She tried to snuggle further under the covers. Maybe she could sleep for just a few more minutes...

Wait. Her limbs felt kind of funny. Not bad funny, just – different. Her foot was almost touching her nose. She didn't know she could do that. Also, where did the fur blanket come from?

And since when could she smell the air?

She opened her eyes. She was in the den, curled up on Stan's yellow armchair, facing the TV. Her family was sitting in front of her in a semi-circle, talking to each other in low voices.

“Guys – she's awake! Mabel! Can you hear me?”

Dipper's face appeared in front of her.

All at once it came rushing back – the attack last night, Will, getting bitten, Dipper's face swimming over her –

She sat up with a yelp and immediately toppled over.

“Careful, Mabel!” Ford said, appearing next to Dipper. “You might not be used to that new form yet. It appears the instinct for manipulating four limbs at once isn't –”

“Blah, blah, science already, we get it!” Stan leaned over his brothers shoulder and reached for Mabel. “Mabel? Pumpkin? Does it hurt anywhere?”

She opened her mouth to say no, it didn't hurt, when she noticed that her mouth felt funny. And really...long.

She crossed her eyes. Since when did she have an adorable puppy shnozz at the end of her face? And what did Grunkle Ford mean by 'four limbs'?

She looked down.

All three Pines men reeled back, as Mabel launched herself from the chair, barking at the top of her lungs. She bounded around the room, crashing into the T-Rex skull, the aquarium, and the wall, all the while yapping with excitement.

I AM A FLUFFY! A FLUFFY FLUFFINESS WITH COCOA-BROWN FUR AND FOUR FLUFFY LEGS AND A SERIOUSLY POOFY PUPPY TAIL! FLUFFYYYYYYYY!

Stan's hearing aid squealed, cutting through the noise. “AGH! Mabel, we get it! My hearing aid!”

“Calm down for a moment, we need to examine you!” Ford insisted.

ARE YOU KIDDING?!?! I'M GONNA BARK AT EVERYTHING THAT MOVES! I'M GONNA SLOBBER ALL OVER PEOPLE'S FACES! I'M GONNA BEG FREE HANDOUTS FROM RANDOM STRANGERS! GRUNKLE STAN WILL BE SO PROUD!

“I got this!” Dipper shouted, and he ran to the kitchen. Mabel wanted to follow but she was too busy dodging Stan's and Ford's grabby arms. So they wanted to catch her, eh? That sounded like the funnest game ever! She yipped with laughter.

Suddenly a new smell reached her nose, cutting through the pungent old-man smell of the den. The new smell was sweet and buttery and yeasty. She skidded to a stop, knocking into the table and sending the phone crashing to the floor. Her head snapped around and she zeroed in on the source of the smell.

Dipper held a stack of freshly made toast on a plate, each slice slathered with butter, sugar, and cinnamon, her favoritest breakfast in the history of the universe.

She launched herself at him, diving straight through her grunkles' outstretched arms, leaping straight up to get at the plate. At her new height, standing on her hind legs, that put her nose exactly level with Dipper's chin – but he raised the plate out of reach.

No fair! You're the taller twin now!

She barked with frustration, jumping for the plate. That warm delicious goodness was only juuuust out of reach!

“Mabel,” Dipper said sternly. “Sit.”

She whined at him, every inch of her new fluffy self zeroed in on the toast.

“Mabel. Sit.”

She sat.

“Good girl!” He took a piece of toast, ripped it off, and fed it to her. She ate it up in one gulp and then thoroughly licked his palm, just to make sure she got all the sugary crumbs. He laughed.

“Gotcha!”

She jumped in surprise as Stan latched something around her neck. She spun to look at him.

He shrugged. “Sorry, sweetie, but you look like someone's lost pet, and I ain't riskin' ya to the pound if you go off wandering.”

“The collar has a tracker on it,” Ford added, kneeling down to show her a weird blippy screen in his hand. “Just in case anything happens, we'll be able to find you.”

She looked at the TV screen. It was off, so she could see herself in it like a mirror. The collar was thin and black, with a small round tag on it and a metal box the size of a tic tac container attached to the side. Definitely not fashion-friendly. Plus it itched her neck. She whined and tried to get it off, but her front paws didn't reach that far back.

“Don't worry, it's just a simple buckle,” Ford said. “You can take it off yourself the moment you become human again.”

She blinked. Of course. Will had bitten her, so no wonder she was a fluffy – she was a werewolf now! Well, werepuppy, which was way cuter. She closed her eyes and tried to change back.

Nothing happened.

“Um, Mabel?” Dipper asked.

I can't change back, she tried to say, but all that came out was a weird yappy noise. She stood up and shook herself with agitation. Then she shook harder, imagining that she could shake the fur right off and find her human self underneath. But all the fur stayed firmly attached. She whined and laid down, pressing her chin to the carpet.

“I think she tried to change back,” Stan said. He put out a hand and scratched at her ear. “Don't worry, sweetie. We'll figure it out. Mostly Ford'll figure it out, but still.”

“That might take awhile,” Ford said, frowning as he pulled a stack of notes from beneath the armchair. “It appears that the transformation healed Mabel's shoulder injury, but since I wasn't here at the time of the bite, I couldn't observe the original carrier of lycanthropy. I have no basis for comparison, and until I run more tests, no way to help her transform back to her human self.”

Mabel groaned and covered her eyes with a paw. Being a fluffy was a lot more fun before she thought she might be stuck as one permanently.

“Aw, Mabel, don't worry,” Dipper said. “We'll get you changed back. And we can play frisbee at the park today. You can even catch it in your mouth – but this time people won't stare at you funny when you do it!”

She thumped her tail once. That was definitely a plus.

He was just feeding her another piece of toast when the doorbell rang.

“You get it,” Ford and Stan said at once.

“Don't look at me, I have toast,” Dipper said.

“I'm studying Mabel to help her change back,” Ford said.

Stan groaned. “What is it with this thing of opening meat cans and portals and now even front doors? What're you gonna have me open next, my own mail? I have Soos for that!”

Still grumbling to himself, Stan trudged to the front door. Mabel sat back down and poked at Dipper's hand with her adorable puppy nose, trying to ask for another treat. He grinned and was just reaching for a piece when Stan started yelling.

“YOU!”

“Mr. Pines, I –”

“I OUGHTA GET YOU NEUTERED, YOU LITTLE PUNK!”

“I just wanted – ow! OW! Not the rake, not the rake!”

Mabel leaped to her feet and ran for the front door, tiny puppy nails skittering on the wood floor. Dipper and Ford called out behind her, but she ignored them and raced to the porch.

Stan was chasing a very skinny boy around the lawn with a rake, trying to thwack him with the long wooden end of it.

Mabel barked to get his attention. Grunkle Stan, stop it! He didn't mean it last night, he wasn't himself.

“Just a second, Mabel!” Stan shouted, grunting as he took another swipe at Will. “Just gotta hit a teenager in the face!”

Dipper and Ford came up behind her as Will dodged another swing from the rake.

“It was an accident!” he yelped, hands out and pleading. “I never would've OW!”

“Take THAT! And THAT!”

“Hold on a minute, Stan,” Ford said, eyeing Will's pathetic attempts to escape the barrage. “Are you the werewolf who bit my great-niece last night?”

“I – OW! – I think so! I'm sorry!”

“He was way bigger last night,” Dipper muttered.

“Perfect.” Ford started down the steps, Mabel trailing after him. “Stan, I'll need you to stop attacking him long enough for me to ask him some questions. He might know more about the extent of Mabel's condition, and perhaps how to help her change back.”

Will looked up. “I do! Of course I'll hel-GECK!”

Stan had finally snagged Will by the collar. He loosened his grip but didn't let go of Will's shirt (or the rake).

Panting, Will got his feet under him and rubbed at his left arm. Mabel whined softly.

He looked down and saw her for the first time. His eyes widened and his face went pale. “Oh, man, I'd really hoped that was a dream,” he whispered. “I'm so, so sorry, Mabel.”

Dipper cleared his throat, scowling from the front porch. His crossed arms still bore nasty cuts from last night's Duel of the Doggy.

Will ducked his head. “Sorry, man. I – I don't have any excuse for this.”

“What's going on?”

They all turned at the sound of the new voice. A boy in a soft blue sweatshirt pulled up on his BMS bike, removing his helmet so his blonde hair shone like sunshine.

Ryland!

Mabel let out a note of pure joy and ran straight for her boyfriend. She leaped up before he was even off the bike and began frantically licking his face.

He laughed but didn't really try to push her down until she'd licked both of his cheeks at least five times. Then she gave him some space to dismount but stayed close by – as in pressed right up against his knee, yipping with frantic delight. She'd never tried to lick his face before but dog kisses were fun! She wondered if he'd let her try it as a human?

“Hey Ryland,” Dipper said, stepping down off the porch.

“Hey...uh...everyone,” he said, glancing at the unfortunate Will. “I just came by to see if Mabel wanted to catch a movie later. Is she around?”

“She's around, alright,” Dipper said. “I don't suppose you've met Will, Mabel's ex-boyfriend?”

Ryland looked back at Will, frowning slightly. “Ah. No, I haven't.”

“Will here happens to be a werewolf,” Dipper continued. When Will made a slight choking noise, Dipper shot him a look. “And he decided to come and visit Mabel, too. Last night. During a full moon.”

“And he chomped her like she was a fresh-made candy rock sandwich,” Stan said, scowling darkly.

Will gulped.

Ryland was looking back and forth between Dipper and Will. “He bit – wait – werewolf – Mabel!?”

She yipped and he stared down at her in shock.

“We just need to remain calm,” Ford said quickly. “I'm sure we'll be able to change her ba–”

“Mabel did you just lick my face?! With a dog tongue?!”

Mabel barked with laughter and wiggled her whole body. I sure did! And it was WAY more fun than I'd imagined!

Ford stepped forward eagerly. “Ryland, are you experiencing any unusual physiological reactions? Tingling? Pins and needles? Excessive facial growth?”

Ryland patted his face, looking worried. “I don't think so. Is that bad?”

Stan gave Will a slight shake. “Start talkin', kid,” he growled.

“Ly – lycanthropy isn't contagious like that,” Will managed. “You only get turned if you're bitten by a werewolf during the full moon, and it has to pierce the skin.”

“Well, hello?” Dipper said, holding out his arms.

“Bitten,” Will repeated, looking miserable. “I'm guessing I just...clawed at you...”

“Well can you change Mabel back?” Ryland asked, kneeling to put his arms around Mabel's neck. “Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure Mabel is just as lovably reckless in puppy form, but I think she'd really like to be human at some point. Dogs aren't generally allowed in movie theaters.”

She nodded solemnly. This was a serious point.

Will blinked. “You mean she didn't choose to be a dog right now?”

“No,” Dipper said. “After Stan beat you up – no offense – Mabel just kind of passed out. And then started shrinking into her current form.”

“She slept for about seven hours before waking up with her usual exuberance,” Ford continued. “We believe she attempted to change herself back, but nothing happened. Is there some kind of trigger that allows the transformation to occur outside the timespan of a full moon?”

Will hesitated. “Well...”

Stan snarled.

“Okay, okay, not the rake!” Will said quickly. “I – I think maybe – at full moons we don't really have a choice, but whenever I changed at other times it was because there was something I really wanted to do as a dog. Like sleep all day or get out of school or –” He stopped, glancing nervously at Stan, but he was nodding thoughtfully.

“Makes sense to me,” he said.

Ford muttered something under his breath.

“So what does she have to do?” Ryland said. “Just – try to make a sweater, or something? Mabel loves making sweaters.”

“Close. She has to imagine herself doing whatever it is she does as a human. Don't think so much about what it feels like to have five fingers or five – uh...”

Ford looked up and caught Will staring. Stan shook his collar again.

“Get on with it, kid!”

“Muscle memory is what I'm getting at,” Will said, now looking a little green because Stan was glaring bloody murder at him. “If she – please don't kill me – if she just thinks about doing something she does all the time, that should do the trick.”

Well that sounds easy! Mabel thought, closing her eyes.

“Hang on a sec!” Ryland peeled off his blue sweatshirt and worked it over her head. “Okay, go.”

Mabel sat down and closed her eyes again. It was hard to just imagine what knitting was like by itself, but lots of times she'd sit next to Dipper while he tapped away at his laptop into the early hours of the morning. It was one of her favorite things to do, sitting next to her bro-bro knitting tomorrow's sweater, her hands moving automatically, the click of her knitting needles mixing with the clicking of the keyboard, like little crickets singing them both to sleep...

“She did it!”

Mabel opened her eyes just in time to see Grunkle Stan's shoulder hair and then he was crushing her in a really big hug. She laughed and poked her arms through Ryland's sweatshirt so she could hug him back.

“That was so much fun!” she said, laughing when Stan's hair tickled her face. “Did you know the living room still smells faintly of zombies? It's like a memory scrapbook for your nose!”

Ryland looked relieved, but Ford stepped forward and bent down, clearly fascinated.

“Fascinating,” he said. (Yep, she called it!) “Mabel, do you feel any different? How is your shoulder?”

Stan broke away to check it, but she just shrugged. “It feels totally fine.”

Dipper looked vastly relieved.

She grinned at her brother. “Don't worry, Dipdork, the only thing really wrong with me is my outfit – black collar with a blue sweatshirt? I'm like a walking fashion horror movie!”

“Not so fast,” Ryland said sharply, when Will made to get away. “You owe my girlfriend a serious apology.”

“And I'd like you to stay and write a list of lycanthropic side effects,” Ford added sternly.

“Yeah!” Stan said. “And you'd better scrub this Shack from top to bottom to make up for what you did to my niece!”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Grunkle Stan, you don't even live here anymore, it's Soos' place.”

“Yeah, even better! I can say I cleaned it as an early birthday present!”

“His birthday was in July.”

“Early Christmas present!”

“Mabel, are you sure you're okay?” Ryland asked her anxiously. “You're – you still have pointy ears and teeth...”

She tweaked his nose, grinning. “Don't worry, I promise I am most definitely okay.” She leaned in for a kiss.

“Wh – Mabel! Stop licking!”

Chapter Text

“Mabel, stop wiggling!”

“I can't, it feels too good!”

“Well can you hold it in for like five seconds until I finish brushing?”

“Oooh, that's the spot!”

“No wait Mabel wait –”

She couldn't help it, she stood up on the porch and shook like a maraca owl. Brown fur went flying.

“Aggh, Mabel!” Dipper spat fur out of his mouth. “Can't you change back to human yet?”

This close to the full moon, it was harder and harder for Mabel to shift between her forms. Yesterday she'd finally gotten stuck as a human-dog hybrid, complete with wolf ears, paws, tail, and a lot of fur.

“Hmm, lemme see...” She scrunched up her doggie nose. “Nope! Can't switch back!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you.”

“YOU ARE CORRECT, SIR DIPPING SAUCE! Being a werewolf is so much fun! My shedding powers have increased exponentially! Soon I shall have enough puppy fur to create A LIFESIZED PLUSHIE OF MYSELF!”

“Don't make me get out the cone.”

“I'll take over, Dipper,” Ryland said, coming around the corner with a brown paper bag in his arms. Stan was right behind him.

Stan laughed. “Whoa! Mabel, how are you not bald? There's three inches of fur all over the porch!”

“Perfect.” Dipper stood up and a small avalanche of brown fur rolled off his shoulders. “Ryland, you're the boyfriend, you brush her.”

Ryland shrugged. “I've done weirder things.”

Dipper handed him the brush and made to go inside.

“Whoa, kid, where do you think you're goin'?” Stan asked.

“To find like, ten lint rollers. And velcro.”

“Good! You're not busy! Help me carry these groceries inside. That little rich kid's comin' over and I wanna make fake vomit to hide in her purse!”

Ryland sat down next to Mabel and started brushing her fur. He ran the brush down her back, and then ran a hand through her fur right after the brush, so he was simultaneously brushing and stroking her. Her eyes closed and her head tipped back.

“Ooooh, that feels so gooood...”

Ryland grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It feels sooo, sooooooooOOooOOoooOO!”

The howl rose right out of her throat and spiraled to the sky, scattering the birds through the treetops. Wow, she didn't know she could sing a note that high! She tried it again, this time for longer. It was even better the second time!

Ryland was yelling something.

She let her last howl end on the highest note she could reach, then glanced back and grinned at Ryland.

“You like? I can sing soprano!”

“You sound like an angel, babe,” Ryland said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

She beamed at him. “Awww, you're so sweet! Guess what? I'll come sing outside your window every night to lull you to sleep!”

“That's – that's great. One sec.”

Ryland got up and stumbled into the Shack. She heard a few bumps and bangings.

“Mr. Pines, you gotta help me!”

“SORRY KID, TOOK MY HEARING AIDS OUT! CAN'T HEAR A THING!”

More banging.

“Dipper! Dipper, you gotta help me, man!”

“WHAT?”

“Howling! Window! I need help, man! I'm not gonna sleep for a friggin' week but I don't want to hurt her feelings!”

Mabel felt a shiver go up and down her spine. That was so sweet!

“WHAT?”

“Dipper are – are you wearing headphones?!”

Loud clattering.

“HEY! Give 'em back before –”

She couldn't hold it in any longer.

“OOOOOOOoooOOOOOOOooooOOOOOOOO!”

She was vaguely aware that Dipper and Ryland had come back to the porch to beg for mercy, but she was having too much fun to listen. And then when they huddled behind her, heads crammed together to share a pair of earphones, she took that as permission to sing as loud as she could.

Then a new scent reached her nose – the scent of hair spray, Italian leather, and golf trophies. Mabel's ears perked up. A certain snobby rich girl was walking towards them, swinging Lexus keys from one finger and checking her lipstick in a compact mirror.

Mabel stopped howling. “PACIFICA!”

“Oh thank Einstein,” Dipper said, sagging to the floor.

Ryland collapsed next to him in a puddle of boyfriend cuteness. “Still sounds great, babe,” he gasped, giving her a thumbs-up.

She laughed and leaped off the porch, making a beeline for her best friend. “PAZ MY RAZZLY DAZ! DID YOU HEAR ME SINGING?!”

“Not through my diamond earplugs(TM), I didn't,” Pacifica said smugly.

“DIAMONDS?!” Mabel shouted. (She might've made herself a little deaf.) “I WANNA SEE!” She jumped on Pacifica and sniffed vigorously at her ears. There really were diamonds in there! “WOW PAZ IT'S JUST LIKE A JEWELRY STORE IN YOUR EAR!”

“Ugh, get off, you're gonna get pawprints all over my cashmere sweater!” Pacifica swatted at Mabel, smacking her lightly with her silver-and-diamond tennis bracelet.

Instantly Mabel screamed and threw herself on the ground, writhing in the dirt. “AAAH! AAAH! SILVER EARRINGS! I'M DYING SOMEONE HELP!”

Paz turned white. “OH MY GOD MABEL I'M SORRY I FORGOT WHAT DO I DO –”

Mabel burst out laughing. “Haha, I'm joking! Silver doesn't kill werewolves like that!”

“I – what?”

“Yeah, I thought it was silver bullets?” Ryland asked from the porch, still in puddle form.

“I think it's just the 'bullet' part,” Dipper said.

Pacifica's face turned red. “You – you – I'M GONNA STAB YOU WITH AN ENTIRE COLLECTION OF SILVER CUTLERY! EVEN THE SPOONS!” She grabbed her earrings and started chasing Mabel around the lawn, yelling at the top of her lungs. Mabel yelped and raced around the grass, laughing as she dodged.

“Should we, uh, should we do something about that?” Ryland asked. “Pacifica looks like she's actually gonna murder her this time.”

Dipper shrugged. “Nah. That's how Pacifica shows affection.”

“I'd hate to see how she shows enmity.”

Mabel heard them and laughed, dodging another swipe of Pacifica's diamond danglies. Yes, being a werewolf was definitely a buttload of fun!

Chapter Text

His brother, Ford decided, was out to get him.

He'd been studying his old lycanthropy texts in the basement for quite some time, trying to get a more accurate understanding of Mabel's condition and how to help. Stan had suggested that he study Mabel directly, since, as he put it, 'Those musty nerd books ain't gonna say squat that Mabel can't tell you yourself. Also, you're a nerd.' Ford had agreed (on the first part) and brought Mabel down to the Portal room. He wanted to record her howling and compare it to the howls of native wolves in the area, and the basement was where all of his equipment was located, anyway.

At which point he realized two things: One, the basement had almost perfect acoustics. And two, Stan was going to wake up the next morning with all his spare change permanently glued to the floor.

“OooooOOoooOOO!”

“Mabel...”

“OOOOoooOOO!”

“Mabel!”

“OOOOooOOOOOOOOoOOOOOoOOOOO!”

“Ma –”

“WHADJYOU SAY GRUNKLE FOOOOOOoooOOOOOORD?”

“Would you please lower the volume!”

Mabel put her paws up on the desk and grinned at him, wagging her tail. She could now control her shifting enough so that she could speak even in wolf form – and howl for two minutes straight. “But I thought we were recording my singing?” Mabel said cheerfully. “I bet I could go even higher!”

“Wha – no, no, that's fine! We finished recording an hour ago and I can hear you through three pairs of headphones!”

“Can we add sound effects to it?” she asked eagerly. “I'm thinking explosion-y noises, squirrel chitters and the sound of someone slurping spaghetti!”

He eased off the headphones. “I'm afraid we'll need an unedited version for me to make accurate comparisons with – but I'm sure I can make you a copy,” he said hastily, when he saw that her eyes had gone wide.

“Oh. My. Sprinkles. Grunkle Ford, I just had the best idea! I'll call Grenda and Candy and we'll make our own all-howling girlz band! We could even do a sleepover! This is gonna be AMAZING!!!”

Stan got up from the breakfast table and started for the Gift Shop, before he remembered that he didn't have to go to work anymore. And that Soos had closed the Shack anyway to take Melody out to lunch.

He leaned on the doorway, looking over the place. Soos hadn't changed it much, but there was a life size statue of Stan in one corner scary enough to make small children cry. He smirked.

He'd just turned away when Ford burst out of the vending machine and slammed it shut behind him, gasping.

“Whassa matter, Ford? We got a monster problem?”

Ford glared at him. “You knew that room had perfect acoustics, didn't you?!”

He grinned. “Weeeell, I may have listened to a few Johnny Cash CDs down there...”

“Down – wait, all my notes are down there!” He pulled open the vending machine –

“OOOOOOOOooOOOOOOOOO”

– and slammed it shut. Stan clapped a hand to his ears as his hearing aids screeched. “OW! Warn a guy!”

Before Ford could answer, Dipper walked in, followed by Soos and Melody. “Hey, guys! Guess who's – wait, where's Mabel?”

A very quiet howling noise drifted up from the basement.

“...Ah.”

Stan shrugged. “Just leave her down there until she howls herself out. Or knock her out with a chew toy! It's nature's snooze button.”

“I'm afraid it's worse than that,” Ford said grimly. “Mabel said something about inviting her friends over.”

Soos blanched. “Oh no...reinforcements.”

Melody rolled her eyes. “Don't you think you're overreacting a little? I can barely hear Mabel at all! How loud can three girls possibly be?”

Unfortunately, Candy, Grenda, and Mabel howling in stereo was still so loud that it echoed all through the Shack, even with the vending machine closed tightly. With the sofa shoved in front of it. Plus all the Mystery T-Shirts piled on top.

Dipper, Ford, Stan, and Soos had retreated to the middle of the front lawn, exhausted from the noise. Dipper had flopped over the natural pillow of Soos' belly, while Stan kept flopping one arm over Ford's face.

“Stan, geroff,” Ford grumbled, shoving him away.

“'S comfortable.” He flopped back. “I'm old, my joints hurt.”

“Your arm is making my face hurt.”

“Well that's just a perk.”

“Uuuuugh,” Dipper groaned, hands over his ears. “Too loud.”

Soos, still lying flat on his back, waved a pair of headphones in the air. Three spools of duct tape and several broken headphones were piled next to him. “Hang in there, Dipper, I've almost got this one fixed...”

Ford winced. “I didn't think headphones could shatter from high-pitched girlish screams.”

“She is the god of destruction,” Dipper pointed out.

“How are you guys doing out here?” Melody asked, coming over and bearing a tray with hot chocolate and a bowl heaped with marshmallows.

“I have literally no idea how you're still sane,” Dipper said, taking a mug. “Thanks, Mrs. Ramirez.”

She grinned. “I'm treating it as baby-training. So far I've set a record – 20 straight minutes in there without losing my mind.”

“You are a strong in many ways,” Soos intoned solemnly. “Thanks, honey.”

She set the tray between Stan and Ford so they could help themselves, then bent and kissed Soos' head. “Enjoy your male bonding time, sweetie. I'm gonna go inside and eat all the ice cream while you're stuck out here.” She walked away.

Stan sat up, looking impressed. “Soos, that woman is impressively devious.”

“Thanks, Mr. Pines!”

“'Male bonding time'?” Ford repeated, sitting up and adjusting his glasses. “Is that some sort of social ritual?”

“You know,” Dipper said slowly, “we all have been really occupied with helping Mabel transition into being a werewolf. This is actually the first time in weeks that we've just had time to...hang out as guys.”

“It's almost like she planned this,” Ford grumbled.

“You think?”

Soos grinned. “Well, since we're out here anyway – wanna get Ryland and go bowling?”

Stan jumped to his feet sloshing hot chocolate. “Oh, I'm gonna smoke you! Can we bet money? I'm betting money!”

“Where'd you get – Stan did you pick my pockets?!” Ford demanded.

Stan chucked the mug and sprinted for the Stanley Mobile, laughing as they all gave chase.

Candy wiped a tear from her eye. “I can't believe it! We formed a band, broke up, had solo careers, and got back together all in less than an hour!”

“WE'RE A REAL GIRLZ BAND NOW!” Grenda pounded the floor and shouted with enthusiasm.

Mabel laughed and reached up to push back her bangs, shifting as she did so so that she actually had bang to push back. She reached out and grabbed her friends hands. “I'm SO glad we did this, girlz! Thanks for coming!”

Candy squealed and held up her phone. She'd connected it to Ford's control panel and rigged it to get free internet for the next twenty years, even through the basement's cement ceiling. “Girls, look! We already have 23 hits on our first song! And someone even left a comment!”

“Ooooh, what's it say, what's it say?!”

“'I'm using this to scare away raccoons from my trash cans.' We're helping people with our music!”

Grenda scooped them up in a crushing bear hug. “BANDMATES FOR LIFE!”

Mabel laughed, shifted into fluff form and licked her best friends' faces. Then she licked their necks and hands and had them rolling on the floor, laughing and begging her to stop tickling them. Finally she relented and shifted back, grinning as her friends sat up.

“So what do we taste like?” Candy asked, still grinning as she gasped for breath.

“Like bubblegum and lizard food! And for some reason tree sap?”

“Resin from cello.” Candy's voice grew suddenly serious. “The cello demands complete discipline from its disciples.”

“Welp, you still taste way better than Dipper!”

“Where is your brother, anyway?” Grenda asked.

Mabel checked the clock on Candy's phone. “Probably bowling by now!”

“He doesn't want to test the frequency of our howling against yours?” Candy asked, adjusting her glasses. “I thought he and the hot uncle were still helping you identify your werewolf abilities!”

“They were! But they've been so busy helping me that they're not spending time with each other. Dipper takes me on walks, Stan's taught me how to con using my fluff form, Soos snuck me age-inappropriate werewolf romance novels, and worst of all, Ford's been holed up down here doing science stuff for the past two days, just studying magic!” She grinned mischievously. “So I had to work a little werewolf magic and mayhem of my own!”

Grenda smiled. “MABEL, YOU'RE A GENIUS!”

“Thank you, thank you!” She stood up, bowed, and then shifted back to fluff form. “Now – who's ready to do a second album?!”

“WE ARE!!!”

Chapter Text

Stan poked his head out of the Shack. Mabel had curled up in dog form on the porch, her paws over her nose.

“Uh, Mabel? Are you coming in for the Ducktective marathon or what?”

“I can't, it smells so bad in there!”

“It's just old man funk, sweetie. When you live in it you can't even smell it unless it gets too hot out.”

“Not you, it's Dipper!” She rolled her head up slightly to glare through the ceiling. “He's up there stinking up our room because he hasn't showered in six days! I can smell the sour cream and onion yogurt he ate on a dare last Tuesday!”

“I smell fine!” Dipper called through the window.

“You do not smell fine!” she called back angrily. “A fly flew into our room, buzzed around you for a second and dropped dead! Your sweat has been weaponized!”

“Well at least I don't reek of wet dog fur! Just shift back to human form!”

Mabel jumped to her feet, growling, the hair on her back raised.

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Uh, Mabel? Your back's getting pointy.”

She took a deep breath, sang a bubblegum jingle in her head, and then shook herself all over, covering the porch in a very light layer of fur.

Stan spat some out. “Has Ford been able to explain how you're not bald yet? Because I really don't know how you're not bald yet.”

Mabel sighed. “I'm sorry, Grunkle Stan. I don't know what's got me in such a funk today.”

“Why don't you take yourself for a walk or something? Go eat some squirrels or dig up bones. Work out the cranky.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” She rolled to her feet, leaped up, and licked him on the cheek. “Mm, aftershave.”

“Hey!” He swatted at her but she dodged away, laughing, then trotted into the woods.

First she just walked through the woods. Then she ran for a while. Then she found a really pretty clearing full of tiny yellow flowers where she chased her tail until she was too dizzy to stand up. She collapsed and rolled around on the grass until her fur was sprinkled with yellow petals and a couple of very confused field mice.

“Awww, aren't you cute!” she squealed, then stood up and shook vigorously to free them. They landed on the ground looking rather dazed, then scampered away. She lay back down with a sigh, burying her face in the fragrant green grass. “Grunkle Stan was so right, I really needed this.” She closed her eyes and listened to the bird song. She could smell everything – the robin ten feet over her head, the tiny mice in their burrows, the sweet delicate scent of the flowers. It was wonderful.

And then suddenly an odor hit her smack in the nose and she yelped, leaping to her feet, fur on end. It was awful! Like Grunkle toejam, rotting eggs, and cut-up ghost peppers all rolled into one! She actually gagged and shifted back to human form so fast some of her fur fell off, clapping her hands to her face. (She'd finally learned how to shift with her clothes now, thank goodness.) But the smell was still bad, and getting worse.

A crackling noise made her look up. The bushes in front of her parted, and out stepped...

“Ugh! Dibber!”

“Mabel? What're you doing out here?”

She stood up, glaring through watery eyes. “I leb the Shack to ged away frob your sdink! Now eben the woods sbell bad – and how do you sbell way worse than before!?”

He grimaced. “I was studying this flower patch where the barf fairies hang out, and they sort of nailed me with vomit.”

“Dat's it! When we ged hobe you are jumbing STRAIGHT into the shower! AND washing your clodes!”

He glared back. “Well, duh, I was going to shower? I'm not going to leave vomit on me! What is your problem?!”

“My probleb is dat you sbell bad all the time and I can't eben breathe in by owd Shack!”

“So just shift back to human, it's not hard!”

“Norbal hubans do not sbell dis bad!”

“How would you even know?! There are no normal humans around for miles! Everyone in town smells like glue and Greasy's Diner food, everyone at the Shack has officially soaked up Stan's old man stink, and you smell like someone glued an arts-n-crafts kit to a wet dog!”

She stepped towards him angrily. “I'b the one who stinks?! You barely eben know how to work a shower!”

“I shower when I need to, it's fine! Besides, since you turned wolf you just switch on the garden hose and use that as a shower, which is NOT the same –”

“AaOOOOOOOO!”

“Mabel –”

“OOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Agh! Mabel, cut it out!”

“Just put your hands over your ears, it's not hard!” She mimicked, then shifted just her vocal cords and howled with all her might.

Three things happened at once: every bird took flight so fast the sky went dark, there was a very loud shriek, and both Mabel and Dipper were suddenly covered in a pack of very fluffy huskies.

“What – what?” Dipper sputtered, spitting out mouthfuls of hair.

“PUPPIES!” Mabel shrieked, laughing and rolling over and over. They covered her in kisses and she hugged and petted and cooed at each one of them. “Look at them, they're so precious! There's a brown and white one and a brown and gray one and another brown and white one –”

“Yesss and get your handsss off!”

Mabel jumped. “Hey, who – whoa!” She tried to sit up and realized that all the rolling around had gotten her stuck tight in a bunch of ropes. Wait, the ropes weren't ropes, they were some kind of harness...?

She finally managed to sit up, caught in a net of husky puppy love, only to come face-to-face with a lizard in a top hat.

“OFF!” she shouted on reflex, swatting at him. He yelped and leaned back, rubbing his scaly cheek. “Oh – sorry! The top hat scared me.”

He glared at her. His glare was quite impressive, since his left eye was cybernetic and glowed an angry red. He had sharp teeth that hung over his bottom lip, a stick-out lizard tongue, and a tuxedo jacket that went very stylishly with his top hat.

“The top hat ssscared you, did it? How do you think it feelsss to be practisssing toboganning only to be pulled off-courssse?!”

“What course? Practicing where?” Dipper asked. The dogs had given him a wide berth (for obvious olfactory reasons) and he was finishing a sketch of Mr. Lizard in his nerd book. He snapped it shut and gestured to the forest. “I mean, there's no actual snow around here for miles.”

“I was practisssing up on the mountain!” Mr. Lizard jabbed at the one just visible over the treetops. “There'sss plenty of sssnow right up there!”

“But – I mean, no offense or anything, but lizards and snow don't exactly mix.”

Mabel flicked his leg. “Dipper! Don't be rude!”

“Everyone alwaysss sssaysss that! 'Lizardsss can't live in the sssnow! Ssstay down in the tunnelsss with the other dinosaursss! You can't even yell muthsss!'”

“Was that 'mush'?” Mabel asked.

His glare intensified. “Well I COULD tobogan just fine, but I don't have a lead dog and sssomething jussst pulled my dogsss off courssse for the tenth time today! They heard some measssley howl and sssuddenly –”

She brightened. “You liked it? Thanks! That was me! I'm the lead singer in an all-girls band!”

“That wasss you?” His tongue flicked in and out a few times and an odd look came over his face. “A werewolf. Interesssting...”

Dipper frowned. “Um, what're you –”

The lizard whipped out a silver whistle and blew, hard. The sound sent a fork of white lightning straight down Mabel's spine and she shrieked, instantly reverting to dog form. Before she could so much as shake the fur from her eyes, the lizard threw a collar like a frisbee. It whizzed through the air, swooshed over her head and tightened around her neck.

“Hey!” she barked – or tried to, but what came out of her mouth was an actual wolf bark. She tried to shift back, but nothing happened. And even worse, Dipper's smell was now hitting her full in the olfactories and she gagged, trying very hard not to throw up. The other dogs whuffed and nuzzled her eagerly, quite pleased to have another furry friend in their number.

Ack! Dipper! I need help and for you to take a shower like NOW!

“You can't just kidnap my sister! Dognap! Whatever! Let her go!”

Mr. Top Hat completely ignored him and blew the whistle again. The pain zinged down her spine and she shook herself, whimpering.

He grinned. “That'sss right, you're ssstuck, aren't you? Sssilver whissstlesss will do that. Now turn around, howl, and muttthsss!”

“Wait, WAIT!”

Dipper threw himself at the dogs to stop the sled, which worked beautifully because the dogs fell over themselves trying to get away from his S.B.B.O. (Seriously Bad Body Odor).

“I said you're not taking my sister! Gimme that whistle!”

“Nope!”

Mr. Lizard deftly untwisted the harness and snapped it, cracking it like a whip over Dipper's shoulder. He yelped and Mabel snarled.

Hey!

“MUTHSSS!”

The other dogs had apparently learned enough to obey, and they all started running forward, shoving Mabel along. It didn't even help that they were mostly running in different directions – all of the directions were forward, and they were too fast and strong for Mabel to pull away. In a second they'd be deep into the woods –

“HYA!”

“SSSTOP IT!”

Mabel twisted to look over her shoulder as she ran. Dipper had jumped onto the sled and hung on. Mr. Lizard wasn't even trying to shove him off, just leaning as far away as he could with one hand over his mouth. She grinned.

Ha! For once Dipper's stench is working for 'im!

“Look, you can run your dog team without my sister. Or just try asking her! She'd probably love it! No one ever has enough time to walk her anyway!”

“Sssorry – ugh – but I'll train my dogsss my own way, thank you very much. I finally have a lead dog and I'm not giving it up. Now bug off!”

He tried to kick Dipper off but he ducked. “Wait! You – you don't need Mabel and I'll prove it. We'll race down your dumb mountain. I'll run your team of dogs, and you run Mabel. Whoever wins gets to keep her.”

WHAT?! You can't just BET me! What has Grunkle Stan been teaching you?!

“I already have her! And the collar won't come off without my key, ssso she'sss not going anywhere. I don't need to agree to sssome foolish bet!”

No wait, take the bet, take the bet!

Dipper set his jaw. “Well, I'm not going anywhere without my sister. And you just pointed to where you live, so I WILL keep coming back for her no matter what. The only way to get rid of me is to win Mabel fair and square. Plus,” he added, “there's not much point practicing tobogganing if you don't have anyone to race against. This could be your chance to prove that your goal is worthwhile.”

The lizard accepted the bet.

He led them up the mountain (although he insisted Dipper stay at least 15 feet away at all times). His home was near the top of the mountain; he'd carved a tunnel deep into the heart of the rock, where it was much, much warmer than the surface. Little coal-like thingies with glowing crystals sticking out of them kept the place warm and well-lit. Mabel batted one back and forth with the other huskies while the lizard got out a second sled for Dipper.

“And maybe a couple of coats, or something?” Dipper asked, shivering from his walk up the snow-covered mountainside. “Seriously, how are you not a lizardsicle right now?”

“Cathmere-wool-manotaur blend,” the lizard said proudly, adjusting his cuffs. “Handmade. Now here'sss the harnesss. Leath them up and – no, no, not like that! Haven't you ever tobogganned before?!”

“Um...no?”

The lizard grumbled under his breath.

When he was done with Dipper's sled and harness malfunction, he gave him two fleece-lined coats and a pair of boots. Then he led them all back to the tunnel entrance, where they lined up the sleds to start the race. Mabel hadn't even bothered trying to escape – one look at that nasty silver whistle made her whole tail droop. She didn't even scratch at the harness the lizard put on her, even though it kind of itched her tummy.

She glanced at Dipper and caught his eye. He looked about as worried as she felt. They both knew it would be better if she lost – but with that whistle raking claws up and down her spine, she wasn't sure if she even could disobey. It was a scary feeling. And the puppies, cute as they were, had completely ignored Dipper so far – except for trying to get as far away from his stink as possible. Things were not looking good.

“We'll ssstart the raccce from here and do a loop there,” Mr. Lizard said, pointing to a pine tree with a thick yellow ribbon tied around its trunk. It was about half a mile away, downhill. “Whoever wins gets the lead dog, and this shiny participation trophy I stole from a picnic table!” He pointed to a very realistic-looking gold trophy with “#1” on the front and “participation” scrawled in tiny lettering underneath.

Dipper swallowed. “But – how are we –”

“MUTH!”

He blew the whistle and Mabel gave a shriek, leaping forward. Her paws were so big they barely broke through the snow's crust and she tore off down the mountain, snow flying behind her.

“YEEEEEAAAAAH! NOW THIS IS HOW YOU MUTH!”

Mabel tried to slow down, but the slope was so steep that she had to go fast enough just to stay on her feet – she did NOT want to trip and get that whistle blown at her again. She risked a glance over her shoulder.

Dipper was frantically yelling 'Mush', and half of the sled team was definitely going forward – but the other half closer to Dipper were going in totally random directions. It looked like they were panicking and trying to get away from the horrible smell that was trying to follow them. Mabel growled.

Come on! You can hardly smell anything in the cold and the snow! Just run to the front and –
Wait. I'm in front. If I howl...

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The huskies snapped to attention and shot towards her so fast Dipper nearly fell off. She yipped with excitement. Perfect! He was catching up!

The lizard frowned. “What're you AGH!”

Dipper's sled pulled even and then shot past them – and kept going, straight past the pine tree.

Mabel wasn't even worried. The lizard yelled 'haw' and yanked the harness, signaling her to turn left. She dug into the snow, struggling not to tangle the sled as she slung herself and the lizard around the tree. As soon as she'd managed the turn she howled again.

“Hey – HEY! SSSTOP IT!”

He blew the whistle hard and she yelped, shaking her head frantically as pain zinged through her skull. She kept running. The entrance was only a dozen yards away. But already she could hear Dipper's sled fast approaching, the eight huskies yipping as they tried to catch up.

“Yeah!” Dipper shouted. “MUSH! MUSH! MUSH! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!”

Maybe it was the fact that he was losing. Maybe he was trying to get her to run faster. Maybe he was just really mad at hearing 'mush' pronounced correctly so many times. But the lizard blew so hard on that whistle that for a second Mabel felt like her skin was on fire. A terrible shriek tore out of her throat and her legs spasmed. She collapsed into the snow.

That's when she felt it – a low, deep rumble from the ground up, vibrating into her belly. Even over Mr. Lizard's whistle. She looked up, neck muscles jerking with pain, just in time to see a massive sheet of snow shift ever so slightly away from the top of the mountain.

AVALANCHE!

She barked frantically, but Mr. Lizard was still focused on the race and Dipper was struggling too hard to control the dogs. As his sled past she jerked suddenly and tried to bite his ankle.

“Hey! Mabe– OH NO!”

It was too late now. The snow had begun to roll down the mountain, gaining speed, a clean white wave. The sound of it cracked all around them like a thunderstorm, like ten thunderstorms, a soft white pillow of suffocating death.

“GET TO THE TUNNEL!” Mr. Lizard shrieked, snapping at her harness. But Dipper's sled team was careening to the right – he'd never make it –

She twisted sharply, snapping her jaws at his hand. He jumped back with a yell and she landed on his chest, forcing the breath out of him and making him let go of the whistle. She grabbed it in her teeth, flung it, and then took off, sprinting for her brother. The way the sled swung she could feel how Mr. Lizard had grabbed it at the last second and was hanging on for dear life.

Dipper looked back, his eyes huge with fear, and saw her coming. “Mabel, no, he's right! The tunnel! Get to the –”

“OOOOOOOOOOOOO!” she howled. The dogs, which had been running parallel to the oncoming wave and away from the tunnel, immediately crashed into each other trying to about-face and follow her. She dashed back the way she'd come, leading everyone behind her and howling for all she was worth. The snow was coming fast, faster, it was seconds away. But Dipper's sled team had finally noticed that the Big White might be just a little scarier than the bad smell behind them and they were running full tilt for the tunnel. They passed her, red tongues lolling. Yes! They were going to make it! They were going to make it!

She dashed in after the team just as the wall of white slammed down. She jumped away from the entrance as snow showered her tail – and was immediately knocked over as the eight huskies practically bulldozed her, all trying to get to the lizard, frantically licking him and nuzzling his hand and curling up over him like shaking balls of pure cuddle goodness.

She laughed shakily and got to her feet, shaking herself. Then she realized that the whistle was gone and she shifted back to human form, shivering as the cold sank into her skin. “That was so close! Huh, Dip...per?”

She looked around. She poked through the literal dog pile, right down to where the lizard lay under them (“Geroff me, ya mangy mutts, geroff!). She double-checked Dipper's sled. She even lifted it up and looked underneath it.

He wasn't there.

“Oh, no...”

She looked at the entrance with mounting horror. The snow had finally slowed, and she could hardly hear the sound of thunder, but the hole leading out was still blocked with a solid wall of white.

“No, no, no, no, NO!”

She leaped for the snow, changing mid-air into wolf form, and began digging frantically. He had to be in there! He had to be okay!

The lizard finally managed to sit up and readjusted his top hat, looking around. “What did – did we win?”

Mabel spun to face him. “You'd better help me find my brother now or I'LL EAT YOUR STINKING HAT!”

He yelped. “Alright, alright! Er – find?” He looked at his team and pointed to the snow.

The dogs wagged their tails.

Mabel wanted to cry in fear and frustration. Of course he couldn't help, and she did not have time for this! Dipper did not have time for this! She couldn't even smell him anymore and he could be miles down the mountain or right under their feet and suffocating with every second that passed and –

She broke into a fit of barking.

Instantly every dog's ears went up on high alert. One of them, with a white face and black fur everywhere else, jumped to his feet and leaped over the other dogs. He stuck his whole face in the snow and started wiggling frantically. Mabel realized he was trying to help her dig their way out.

She joined in, and the rest of the team soon followed, carving out a three-foot-wide tunnel until they reached the surface.

The snow had covered the mountain in pristine white, and only the top of the yellow-ribbon pine tree was visible. Mabel immediately put her nose to the ground and started sniffing. Even if Dipper was covered in snow, she'd be able to smell him if she got close enough, right? He smelled like a whole dumpster rolled into one! She'd be able to find him and she wouldn't give up until she did!

The other dogs took her lead, sniffing frantically at the snow behind her. They spread out in a ragged line with Mabel and the black-and-white dog in the lead, zig-zagging back and forth as they worked their way down the mountain. A couple of them started to roll around and play, but the black-and-white dog growled sharply at them and they kept sniffing.

The lizard poked his head out of the tunnel. “Er...any luck, then?”

Mabel didn't bother to answer. Her nose was getting numb from the cold and she could feel the seconds ticking by. How long could Dipper hold his breath? How long had it been since he got buried? What if he'd been hit against a tree or something? What if he was unconscious or bleeding or –

No, no, think positive! I'm gonna find him! We're GONNA FIND HIM!

Suddenly the black-and-white dog circled, then whined, pawing at the ground. Mabel darted toward him, barking, and the other dogs quickly converged and started digging.

The lizard scowled. “Ssstop that! Come!”

The dogs instantly raced towards him, and Mabel spun on the spot, snarling. But the lizard just waved her aside.

“You go, go on, git!” He reached up and tapped his electronic eye.

A red spot sizzled at her feet and Mabel yipped, scrambling back. His eye shot lasers!

She shifted to human. “Wait, Mr. Lizard, stop! Yyou'll burn a hole in him!”

“Exssscuse me, I know what I'm doing! Now go on!”

He twisted something on his eye like he was turning a dial, and the red beam grew wider and paler. She tried to step back and her human hands and feet punched through the snow, so she crab-crawled back instead as the wide beam swept the snow. Spread out like that, it wasn't nearly as hot, and it slowly melted down the snow where the dog had been digging. Mabel hovered at the edge of the beam, still in human form, just in case Dipper needed CPR.

Suddenly a big chunk of snow crumbled like a melting icee and Dipper fell forward, gasping and coughing.

“DIPPERRRRR!”

She launched herself at him and they collapsed in the snow. She squeezed him as tightly as she could.

“Dipper Dipper Dipper Dipper Dipper –”

“Mabel! I can't breathe!”

She squeezed him one more time and then sat back, laughing and gasping from sheer relief. “We couldn't find you and then we were sniffing but I couldn't smell you and then the black-and-white dog found you and then the lizard zapped the snow and I'm so happy you're okay!”

“Yeah, but you're shivering,” Dipper pointed out. “And wait – you're human! But the whistle?”

“I grabbed it and threw it in the snow,” Mabel explained, as Dipper took off his outer coat and draped it around her. She struggled to get her arms and head through the holes. She could switch back to her wolf form, but somehow Mr. Lizard's threat to keep her as a dog had made it temporarily lose appeal.

Speaking of which –

“If you're done, then, I'll be taking my lead dog now,” Mr. Lizard announced, from the mouth of the snow tunnel. He stood with his arms crossed and his dogs at his feet.

“But I won,” Dipper said, standing up. “My team crossed the finish line first!”

“Yes but you didn't,” the lizard pointed out. “And I'll have you know I've got spare silver whistles, so don't think you can trick me out of my prize!”

Mabel scooted closer to Dipper.

“I'm not tricking you,” he said confidently. “I won. But I'd like to point out that the only reason I won in the first place was because I had your dogs. Dogs that you trained so well that I could win even though I'd never even been on a dog sled before.”

“Yeah,” Mabel said, standing up. “And! That black-and-white dog –” She pointed to him. He was sitting at the lizard's right foot, panting. “He's really smart. He figured out that I was looking for Dipper and helped me. He even made the other dogs look for Dipper, too! I think he's been the middle the whole time, but why don't you make him the lead dog? I'm sure he'd do great!”

“It'sss a her,” the lizard snapped, but he seemed to be thinking it over.

“If you want, we could come up here to race you again,” Dipper offered. “Not to win anything, just for practice. That way you could train your new lead dog.”

The lizard grumbled under his breath.

“Oh...fine,” he finally sighed. “You win. Keep the werewolf. But I expect you to make good on your offer.”

“Oh, we will,” Mabel said. “But first...”

A slow grin was spreading over her face. She'd made new puppy friends, she was definitely not going to be stuck as a sled wolf forever, the lizard turned out to be sort of nice for helping her find Dipper, and best of all, her smelly Dip Dop was safe and sound.

This called for just one thing:

“PICTURE TIME!”

She whipped a camera out of her sweater.

Dipper blinked. “How did – I thought you could just morph clothes?”

“I AM A SCRAPBOOKING QUEEN AND NOTHING SHALL STOP PICTURE TIME!”

He sighed. “Of course. Why not.”

Since she'd been stuck as a werewolf the whole time, she hadn't had the opportunity to take pictures of the adventure as it had been happening. So she asked Mr. Lizard to pose for them in his snow-tunnel cave entrance (he did, after a little architectural sculpting); then she took a picture with all the other puppies (the black-and-white dog sat next to Mabel's right hand); and then they made Mr. Lizard squish himself into the snow while she and her brother held the participation trophy in the background (one of the dogs took the picture for that one).

Eventually Dipper finally persuaded her to leave before the lizard lost his patience with them and chased them off the mountain himself. The two of them slid carefully down the mountain, still in their borrowed coats and boots. When they reached the forest floor, Mabel skipped in a happy circle all around her brother. He laughed.

“My gosh, Mabel, how did you run a mile in the snow and still have energy to spare?”

“Are you kidding?! Except for the forced-doggie part, this was SO MUCH FUN! I can't believe there was a whole pack of fluff pups nearby that I never knew about! Can we go tobogganing tomorrow? And the next day? AND THE NEXT DAY?!”

“Alright, alright! At least we've got the coats for it, anyway.”

She stopped skipping and hugged him extra-tight. “Thanks for rescuing me, Dipper. And I'm really, really glad you're okay.”

His arms came up around her and squeezed back. “You're welcome, Mabel. Thanks for saving me, too.”

Mabel felt like wiggling with joy and throwing glitter-confetti and howling, all at once. Stan had been right, getting out in the forest had definitely worked out the cranky. And now she'd get to go tobogganing with her best bro whenever they wanted! Only one thing would make this day perfect...

“Before you ask, yes, Mabel, I am still going to shower when we get home.”

She pulled back and grinned at him. “You better, or I'll chew up your shoes. Only the left ones.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”