"RACE TO THAT RED COTTAGE!" Tony hollered, pointing downstream about a mile to where they could barely make out the red of the side of a small house from behind the trees. "…GO!"
Tony took off immediately, the simple flick of a switch on the side of his kayak driving him forward with a sudden burst of speed. This left Peter to clutch onto the sides of his kayak (which was still tethered to the back of Tony's with the web strands) for dear life, quickly jerking him out of what was previously a peaceful doze.
"Hey! That is unjust!" Thor yelled after Tony, swinging his hammer in large circles over his head and pointing it straight out in front of him, which propelled his own kayak forward at what seemed to be an even faster rate than Tony's.
When there was no more immediate movement or shouting, Natasha turned around in alarm.
"Clint? Aren't you going to race? So you can beat Tony's ass into the ground again?"
Clint was sitting in his kayak a few feet back, which was now entirely surrounded by mallard ducks.
"What?" he asked distractedly, reaching out a hand to stroke the feathers of one of the ducks. "No, I'm fine, thanks for asking…" Clint smiled blissfully as the birds fluttered around him, one even coming up to land on his shoulder.
Natasha's suspicion was quickly turning into worry. Clint never passed up an opportunity to beat Tony's ass into the ground.
Steve, to say the least, was frightened.
"Erm…Tasha? Is he alright?" he muttered to Tasha, watching Clint spreading his arms out to either side of him to allow more birds to land on his arms as he turned his face up towards the sky, beaming all the while.
For once, Natasha's cool and decisive demeanor seemed to falter a bit.
"…I don't know," she finally replied softly, watching Clint with wide eyes. "I've never seen it this bad before…Usually, it just wears off after a while, but now it just seems to be escalating…"
"Well, if he tries to tape paper wings to his arms and jump off of a ledge so he can fly, I draw the line," Steve said grimly, sighing.
"No, I think he learned his lesson last time he tried that," Natasha commented, watching Clint sadly. Steve stared at her for a moment, trying to work out if she was serious or not.
"Where should we go next?" Clint asked.
Relieved that Clint didn't seem to be so deeply in bird-mode anymore, Tasha answered, smiling.
"Oh, I was just thinking that we would follow the main river, with the shade from the trees – "
"Oh, sorry," Clint interrupted her, after glancing at her with a bemused expression. "I wasn't talking to you."
"Then who were you – " Natasha stopped talking, watching as Clint turned back to his flock of mallards and began murmuring to them. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Everyone! Look! It's a great blue heron!" Clint cried, pointing at large bird standing primly at the edge of the river about ten yards away. "It's so majestic…"
Clint was staring at the bird in open-mouthed awe, but everybody else was incredibly disinterested. The bird gave its harsh croak, dipping its beak into the water then looking around.
"I think he wants us to follow him!" Clint yelled, waving his arm over his head. "Come on!"
Clint began paddling after the great blue heron, unaware that no one was following him. The bird was moving solemnly to the left into a narrow deviation from the main river, the path thickly shrouded by trees and wildlife.
"Where are you taking me, buddy?" Clint cooed, following the large bird as it waded placidly through the calm waters.
The nature in this part of the river was beautiful, the green-leaved trees creating a canopy over the narrow stream of water that ran slowly and clearly across the rocks and sand underneath. Clint followed the heron past the occasional cottage, past small natural flowerbeds on the side of the river and small turtles flitting about near the surface. Narrow beams of sunlight were filtered through the cover of leaves, illuminating various bits of nature - a moss-covered rock poking out of the water, a brilliantly violet flower at the riverbank, a small break in the rocks to his left...
The heron stopped, giving its harsh croak once again and dipping its beak into the water in the direction of the rocks, where Clint could make out gap that was partially hidden by the brush.
Clint stopped paddling and drifted closer to the gap, noticing that it created what seemed to be a passage to a small cave.
"Is this where you were leading me?" Clint asked, and the bird blinked at him. Somehow Clint translated this as a yes, and slipped out of his boat and into the water. It was warm and about chest-deep in this area.
"Thank you, friend," said Clint, reaching out to pat the heron's beak. The heron croaked once more, then began to wade away through the shallower water near the riverbed.
Clint swam through the hole in the rocks, coming out into a small opening, the top covered in earth except for a small gap where sunlight streamed in so he could see. At first, it looked as though there was nothing of importance here, but then Clint glimpsed something shiny on a large flat rock in a darker corner of the cave. He walked over through the water, reaching out a dripping hand until he felt something soft and heavy, like expensive fabric. He clutched at it, drawing his hand back and discovering that he was holding a large, jade green piece of cloth. A gold broach at one end must have been the shining he had seen.
Where had Clint seen this before? It looked so familiar. It was a cloak, that much he was certain of. But...oh. It was indeed a cloak, an expensive royal one at that. An Asgardian cloak.
The Asgardian cloak, paired with the bottle of expensive strong-hold extra-shine hairspray Clint had just found sitting on the rock, could only point to one person.
The Avengers had a little visitor on their outing today.