Peter and Tony helped the doctor into dry clothes, got his foot wrapped and an instant ice pack from the first aid kit onto it. The wrap job wasn't as smooth as what Stephen was capable of, but it was an awkward place to do it alone so he was pretty much forced to give himself up to their attentions. Then had them seat him at the picnic table rather than a chair near the newly kindled fire with his foot propped up on the back of one of the lawn chairs to keep it elevated.

Peter then watched him while Tony went to change, and then they reversed roles so Peter could change as well. When the boy came out of the tent, he was carrying a sodden mess of clothing that he proceeded to hang over the side of the truck so it could dry in the warm afternoon sun.

"Running out of clothes already?" Strange asked, amused.

"Yeah. If I'm not careful I'll be running around naked."

"We'd think of something before that happened," Stark assured him.

Peter had also dragged their wet clothes out with his own and when he was done hanging them all over the truck, he wiped his hands on his jeans.

"I'm going to go look around, okay?"

"You did that yesterday."

"There's a lot to look at."

Stark shrugged.

"Don't go far."

"I won't."

Peter looked at the cloak, but it was still drying itself out by the fire, and also caressing Strange as it tried to comfort him and his injured ankle. He grinned and headed for the trees by himself, figuring he'd go a different direction this time, just to be able to see something different.

Stark turned to Stephen as the boy walked away.

"I brought a deck of cards, if you're interested."

"Sure."

Even though it was a deck of cards that got him stuck camping in the first place. He was well aware that Tony had included a lot of down time in the itinerary for their trip – and with the canoe gone, there would probably be even more, now.

Obviously Stark was thinking the same thing, since he looked out at the lake once he sat across from Strange with cards and score pad in hand.

"I could probably go Ironman and get the canoe back."

"Or I could do it with magic."

"You're not allowed to do magic."

"Then you probably shouldn't be allowed to go Ironman," Strange pointed out, more than willing to not go canoeing again. "Fair is fair, wouldn't you say?"

Stark hesitated, and then shrugged.

"I suppose."

He could always come back later and get it.

OOOOOOOO

Peter's decision to change directions that he explored didn't really change the scenery. He walked through trees and underbrush that looked exactly like the things he saw last time, including a stream that might even be the same one that he'd seen the skunk by. There were squirrels and other critters – he wasn't completely sure what they were, only that they didn't have claws and sharp teeth and probably weren't predators. At least not predators that would be interested in a fifteen year old boy.

He took pictures of them all, well aware that he had a large memory card in the camera so was pretty much unlimited in the photos. If nothing else, Natasha and Pepper might find something interesting.

Being a city kid, he knew he was probably making enough noise to scare any real interesting creatures away before he got close enough to see them. What he didn't realize, however was that he was a lot quieter than most, and he was startled when he came out of the trees and found a clearing that had a herd of deer grazing in it.

Not that he'd never seen grazing deer; he had. Very close up, even. But he'd been sleepy, then, and they had run away immediately. This time they didn't notice him and he managed to take some pictures. There were several does and a larger buck, with an impressive rack of antlers that were covered in something that looked like fur. Many were younger, and hanging out by the does, but none of them were little enough that he'd call them babies.

He skirted the clearing and checked his watch, but it wasn't too late, yet, so he kept walking. His alert vision caught sight of something decidedly straight in a bunch of brush that was anything but and Peter stopped, waiting for any kind of indication that he should be wary. He didn't feel anything and reached down and picked up what looked like an arrow, but was mangled and had goo on the pointed end.

"Wow."

At first he thought maybe he'd found an artifact from pioneer days – he knew that it happened, of course – but this one was clearly stamped made in the USA and he figured that the Indians in the area back then wouldn't have bothered labeling their equipment. Not to mention, now that he was looking at it, the arrowhead was clearly metal, with a nasty looking barb on it, which was smeared with what might have been dried blood.

He kept it, thinking that the others might find it interesting, and continued his explorations, dodging a dark area that made his senses tingle a little and also avoiding a spot where he was pretty sure he heard something growling in the brush. Of course, as far as he knew, it might have been a raccoon, but to him growling meant teeth, and he was probably pretty yummy to some of the creatures that lived out here.

He turned back toward the campsite, figuring that if he spent much more time out of sight Mr. Stark would think that he was lost and would come looking for him. He was near the clearing that he'd seen the deer, when he realized that something was definitely off. The woods were silent, and his senses were suddenly screaming at him.

Peter turned his head the direction that the oddity seemed to be coming from and realized that there were two men crouched in the brush no more than fifty feet from him, facing away from him, both wearing camouflage clothing and holding bows. One had his drawn, and Peter saw he was pointing his arrow at the big buck he'd seen earlier.

Without hesitation, the boy reached down and picked up a large dirt clod. He chucked it – not at the men – but at the deer. He was strong enough that the distance didn't matter and the dirt clod hit the buck's rear, startling it and making it jump and then flee. Behind it went the rest of the deer, tails flashing white as they left.

"Damn it!"

Both men stood, and Peter ducked behind a tree right as one of them turned his direction. Almost as if the man had a feeling of his own, he started walking toward where Peter was hiding, looking around suspiciously. It was a simple matter for the boy to climb the tree – it wasn't a building but it didn't have to be for him to stick to it – and by the time the man reached the tree, Peter was at the top, hiding in the leaves and looking down at him, quietly.

"Help me find my arrow!" came a command from the other guy, and the one below Peter turned and left.

The boy waited until they were gone before he climbed out of the tree, and then he headed back to the campsite, the arrow that he'd found still clutched in his hand.

OOOOOOOO

"You're sure they were hunting?" Strange asked, looking at the arrow Peter had handed him with interest.

"Pretty sure," Peter said. "I've never seen it done before."

"The poachers the rangers were telling us about?" Stark asked.

Strange shrugged.

"Maybe. They didn't mention bows, though."

"I bet Clint could hunt with a bow if he wanted to," Peter pointed out.

"I'm sure he could. We can tell the rangers about it if we see them," Tony said. "If they don't come by, we can find the ranger's station tomorrow or the next day."

"I wonder what chewed this one up?" Strange asked, looking at the arrow in his hand again.

"Not a person."

"No."

There were definite bite marks in the shaft. Peter hadn't recognized them as such, but Strange had immediately.

"Maybe they lost this one and an animal got hold of it," Peter said. "Like a raccoon or something."

"Or they shot something that got away from them," Stark said, frowning. "We'll keep a watch out – and you don't go back into the woods without one of us with you."

"Okay."

He knew better than to argue, since Mr. stark had that particular set to his jaw just then.

"Good. Let's have dinner."