The orchard still smoked behind them as they walked back to Bart's house. A few stubborn tufts of steam clung to the trees, curling in the late afternoon light like breath from an exhausted beast breathing in the harsh winter air.
Joren walked at the front, quiet, arms shoved into his pockets. Willow followed, brushing globs of cheese off her sleeves with a distant, tired look. Gus trudged behind them, muttering under his breath every few steps.
Bartholomew stood near the front with Joren, completely unbothered, whistling.
It was Gus who finally broke the silence.
"Alright. I have to ask," he said, squinting at Bartholomew over his shoulder. "What was that thing? Like actually."
"Ah," Bartholomew said cheerfully. "Fon-Doom."
"Yes," Gus deadpanned. "We gathered that much so far..."
Willow slowed her pace just slightly. "You said you'd made him before, didn't you?"
Bartholomew nodded. "Indeed I did. Well... not exactly made, more like created accidentally."
Gus frowned. "That sounds worse."
"It depends on your threshold for accidents." He waved a hand airily. "He began as a preservation experiment, believe it or not. As you saw, I have a perpetual fondue fountain, and for whatever reason, he gained life one day."
Willow narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, 'for whatever reason'?"
Bartholomew shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. The heat differential in the brie chamber, maybe. A cheese wheel left too close to the lunar calendar. Maybe it saw a portrait somewhere. Hard to say, really."
Willow gave him a long look. "That last one sounded real."
Bartholomew's eyes twitched sideways. "Did it?"
Gus snorted. "Don't play dumb. You said it like you've been thinking about it."
"I say a lot of things," Bart replied, picking up his pace slightly. "All of them are brilliant, but sometimes they are just guesses."
Joren spoke quietly. "You think it saw a Portrait?"
"I doubt it, but sometimes objects or animals can gain powers from portraits by seeing them." Bart said.
Willow frowned. "You're saying cheese can just... change? Just from looking?"
"I'm saying anything can," Bart replied, giving that cowboy laugh again. "If the timing's just right, all sorts of things can happen."
Bart said with a shrug. "It's just how it is. You spend enough time around strange things, and you start realizing how many rules are actually suggestions."
Gus shook his head. "You say that like it's normal."
"Of course it is." Bart kicked a stone off the path. "I spent two months in a cell being told everything I made was impossible, but sometimes things just happen."
The words hung in the air a second longer than they should've.
He cleared his throat. "I mean... cheese happens. You leave enough warmth and mold in a closed system, and well, spontaneous life. It's not that odd."
Willow frowned. "Wait. Back up."
Gus squinted. "Did you say you were in a cell?"
Bart gave a dismissive wave. "It was temporary. Holding facility for terrorists or something another..."
Joren spoke quietly. "Why didn't you tell us that before?"
"I didn't think it was relevant," Bart said. "Also, you never asked."
Willow stared at him. "A holding facility for terrorists? Bart, that's not nothing."
"It was just a wing," he said, picking up his pace. "I wasn't, you know, in with the violent ones. Being suspected of creating portrait monsters is a little harsh in my opinion. Especially when it's just one cheese glob with a curious personality. "
Willow stared at the back of his head. "You were locked up with people who leveled cities."
"And I was the only one in there for dairy," Bart shot back, like that somehow made it better. "Which makes me either completely harmless or the most creative person in the room."
Willow didn't look amused. "That's not a spectrum you want to be on, Bart."
"It's not a spectrum I chose," he replied. "I made fondue with feelings, so I guess the spectrum chose me."
Joren finally asked, "Why keep it secret from us?"
Bartholomew glanced back at them, then ahead again. His voice, when it came, was lighter than it should've been.
"Because if I told you I used to be locked up in a containment wing designed for people who can turn towns to rubble, you probably wouldn't have let me serve you grilled cheese."
Gus snorted. "You never served us grilled cheese."
Bartholomew pointed at him without looking back. "That's because you just wanted the toast. It's not my fault you couldn't appreciate true craftsmanship of the highest caliber in the dairy world."
Willow folded her arms. "And yet you didn't mention any of this while your cheese monster was rampaging through a fruit grove."
"Timing is everything," Bart said. "Besides, technically, you were the ones rampaging. Fon-Doom was just exploring the world."
Willow stared at him. "He was glowing. And roaring."
"He glows when he's excited," Bart said. "And that wasn't a roar, that was his happy noises."
Willow blinked. "Happy noises?"
"Like a baby goose," Bart nodded, like it was so obvious.
Gus looked horrified. "There was nothing happy about that sound. It shook the ground."
"Well, he is a bit large," Bart admitted. "Joy echoes differently when you weigh hundreds of pounds and are composed of aged dairy and existential confusion."
Willow dragged a hand down her face. "You're describing a walking trauma case made of cheese."
Bartholomew sniffed. "I prefer the term sensitive artisan construct."
Gus muttered, "It tried to eat me."
"And yet it didn't," Bart said, as if that proved something. "What he exhibited was restraint. That's what I call growth."
Willow gave him a flat look. "Ok buddy..."
Steam hissed from the crooked pipe up ahead. The cheese house leaned comfortably against the horizon like it had always been there. Bart jangled his keys.
"Anyways, we lived, so you're welcome. I'm making soup tonight, so who wants a tasty dinner and a fresh start?"
Gus groaned. "As long as it doesn't come alive halfway through, I'll take two bowls."
Willow brushed a strand of cheese from her sleeve. "Make it three. And don't put anything in it that can growl."
Bart shot her a wounded look. "You act like I have no standards."
"You don't." Willow and Gus said in unison.
Joren chuckled, just once.
They reached the door. The warmth inside was already seeping through the frame, thick with herbs and something creamy. Somehow, even after all that had happened today, it still smelled like home.
Night – Bart's House
They finished dinner with quiet plates and tired shoulders. Steam clung to the edges of the soup bowls, rising like thin ghosts before vanishing into the wood-beamed ceiling.
Joren leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Bartholomew scribble something incomprehensible on a napkin. Gus had fallen half-asleep against the back wall, and Willow sipped slowly from her third cup of tea, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
"Bart," Joren said at last, his voice cutting the quiet.
The scribbling stopped.
"People are going to come looking here since Fon-Doom was spotted, won't they?"
Bartholomew looked up, eyes blank for a moment like he hadn't processed the question. Then he shrugged. "Probably. He wasn't exactly subtle, was he?"
Willow leaned her elbow on the table, resting her cheek against her palm. "You said you were trying to lay low. This isn't exactly… low."
Bartholomew swirled his spoon through the remains of his soup. "Well, I was doing a decent job. Until someone incinerated my boy with a baby star."
Joren didn't flinch. "What do you plan to do now? You can't exactly stay in Gloryhollow after that happened."
Bartholomew let the spoon clink against the bowl, then tapped it twice more for emphasis, like it might summon clarity.
He sighed. "Well, originally I was going to fortify the cellar and build a tunnel under the conservatory, spending the next two decades inventing dairy-based camouflage."
Willow raised an eyebrow. "You mean like... cheese ghillie suits?"
"Exactly," he said proudly. "Melt-resistant and very fashionable."
Joren leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. "But hiding here won't work anymore, will it?"
Bartholomew shrugged. "Maybe for a little while, but eventually someone's going to ask why the orchard exploded with cheese covering the whole thing."
Willow gave a dry smile. "And the crater. And the screaming."
Gus mumbled from the corner, "And the smell."
Bartholomew sighed, swirling the last of his soup. "Yes, yes. It was dramatic. But also educational, now I know what improvements to make if I create Fon-Doom version two."
Willow leaned forward. "Then come with us. You already know too much to pretend you're just a strange guy."
Gus raised a hand lazily. "And you owe us for saving you from a cheese massacre."
Bartholomew set his spoon down, but didn't look up right away.
Joren watched him closely, waiting.
Bartholomew gave a small breath through his nose, the kind that tried to pass for casual but came out thin around the edges.
"I liked it here," he said. "Gloryhollow fit in with my tendencies just fine. Oh well, I guess."
Joren responded. "So is that a yes?"
"Sure. I could use a little bit of an adventure." Bart replied, his eyes still looking two different directions as always.
They let the silence settle again. This time, it was a quieter kind that didn't need to be filled with words.
My world just keeps growing, now there are four of us...