Monster Falls

12: Creativity

Dipper huffed, clanging a spoon on the kitchen table. Mabel and Stan were still not back. And it had been--he looked at the clock-- ten hours. Ten hours without even a sight of either of them.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Dipper jerked his head up. Soos had walked in. The man had clearly been worried about him. "Yeah, Soos, I--I'm okay, thanks."

Soos chuckled. "So, we're all monsters now, huh?"

Dipper nodded. "Mmm-hmm," he replied, his brain worried about other things.

"You a deertaur or--or something?"

Dipper smirked. "Cervitaur, Soos."

The man smiled. "Just tryna make conversation, dude," Soos sat down in front of him, sighing. "Who was that guy Dr. Pines was with? He seemed pretty, well, weird."

Dipper huffed, grimacing. Should he tell him? Bill had made it seem like he didn't want anybody to know it was him. He shrugged. "Uh, I--I don't know! Weird, heh-heh, y'know!"

Soos crossed his arms, eyes widening when they got stuck together. "Y'know, dude, being made of clay is not easy, but it does have some perks."

Dipper raised his brows. "Like?"

The clay golem chuckled nonchalantly. "Well, let's just say I can lick my elbow."

Dipper smirked, sitting up straighter. "You can not."

"Here, I'll show ya'," Soos explained, removing his forearm and bringing it up to his mouth, sticking out his tongue to lick it.

Dipper chuckled. "Yeah right," he said, smiling.

Soos attached his arm back on, punching the cervitaur lightheartedly. "There's a smile!"

The boy's grin faded as he remembered his worries. "Sorry, Soos." He stood up. "Gotta go."

Stan huffed, resting on a tree. Ugh. They'd been walking for hours, and it wasn't exactly easy to stay quiet in a danger-ridden forest when you were made out of stone and every freaking step sounded like a boulder. At least to him, anyways.

"Are you okay?" Mabel asked, rubbing her eyes.

Stan smiled. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just--just tired," he explained, stepping forwards.

Mabel trotted forwards, squinting as she noticed something. Pointing in the direction, she looked back at her uncle. "What's that?"

Stan tilted his head, looking at the object. "Let's go see."

Walking closer, Stanley gasped. It was a dead...animal. Mabel looked up at him. "What is it?"

Stan gulped. "Griffin," he rasped, looking at it's bruised neck and scratched up back. Whatever killed it must have been strong, especially to kill a griffin. Walking closer, he saw the twelve deep cuts on his back. Stan squinted. What sort of animal had six--Oh.

Oh.

"Stanford," he whispered, in awe. He couldn't imagine. His brother, who had been immensely terrible at boxing back when they were teens. And now, Stanford had killed a vicious monster. With his bare hands.

"Grunkle Ford--he killed it?" Mabel asked, trotting up beside her uncle.

Stan blinked. "Y-yeah, I guess," he mumbled, still in shock. If Ford could do all that, imagine what he could do.