"Are you sure about this?" Pepper asked Natasha the next morning.

"Someone has to do it. If we let them go alone, Tony's the next to fall, you know? It comes in threes, they say."

"That's a lot of testosterone in one small tent."

"I'll have Stephen magic me up my own tent."

Pepper smiled and then shrugged.

"Try to keep them out of trouble, will you?"

"If anyone can, it'll be me," she assured her, picking up her bag and opening the trunk of the car and then waving to Pepper as she got in.

Peter had been bundled into the back seat of one of Tony's cars, since Natasha's sports car wasn't as suitable for carrying the four of them – especially since Strange was better off stretching his injured foot across the back seat when possible. In her car it wouldn't have been, but with the sedan that wouldn't be an issue. One of them would have to drive it home – Tony couldn't drive it and the truck, and since Strange had sprained the wrong ankle, it would probably be her. She didn't mind.

"This is crazy," Tony said when they were all in the car, he had kissed Pepper goodbye – again – and got behind the wheel. "Stephen can wave his hand and we'll be there in ten seconds."

"And if someone is at the campsite and sees us?" Strange had pointed out. "Then what? I spend the next several hours explaining that I'm a master of the mystic arts and hope they don't have something recording at just the wrong time?"

"Or worse, they start shooting, thinking you're aliens or something," Natasha added.

Stark supposed that made sense, but he didn't want to admit it. He was in the front with Natasha, Stephen was in the back with his foot up on Peter's thigh – the left thigh that wasn't sporting a bandage and stitches under his clean jeans. The cloak was draped over Peter's shoulder, crooning a cheerful lullaby in his mind and once more trying to put him to sleep. The doctor's ankle was far less sore that morning – thanks to constant icing and elevation – but keeping it up was better, and Peter didn't mind being used as a footstool.

Besides, Strange wanted to be close enough to Peter to keep an eye on him. The boy had been stiff and sore when he'd woken, although he hadn't complained at all about it. Strange assumed the Peter wouldn't say a word that might jeopardize his chances of continuing the camping trip and he'd carefully checked for any swelling around the neat rows of stitches he'd put along the claw marks – both on Peter's side and along his thigh.

They were red enough that he ordered up a prescription of antibiotics to avoid any infection, but he couldn't honestly tell Natasha or Tony that Peter was hurt so badly that he needed to stay in bed.

So after breakfast they headed north once more, this time with a little more company and far less equipment.

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time the car pulled into the campsite late that morning, Peter had fallen asleep, using the cloak as a pillow, Stephen had dozed off using a jacket for a pillow, and the green truck parked beside Tony's proved that they had been wise driving into the site rather than just popping in using magic. Both of them woke up when the car stopped, and the arrival brought the two park rangers from the other side of the tent.

"Mr. Stark," the older man – the one who had been driving before – said, holding out his hand when Tony got out of the car, followed by the others, who were moving much slower. "We were a little worried about you guys."

He looked over at Natasha, who gave him a smile as she was helping Peter out of the back seat. The boy and Strange both asked the cloak to stay in the car for the moment, and it didn't even twitch, much preferring the car to pretending to be a blanket.

"We're okay," Tony told him, shaking his hand. "We just had a bit of a problem last night."

"Bear, from the looks of the tracks," the younger ranger noted, pointing at the obvious signs of scuffle in the dirt and gravel near the truck.

Natasha wasn't any kind of tracker when it came to wildlife, but even she could see the bear prints, and the blood when she walked over with Peter. The prints were impossibly large, making it all that much more remarkable that Peter had escaped with relatively so little damage.

"Yeah, Peter here got between a bear and a cub in the dark last night," Tony told him. "Pretty scary."

The older man looked at the boy.

"Are you alright, son?"

It was obvious that he'd been injured, just by the way he was walking.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"Forty-two stitches," Tony said. "Right leg and side."

"Lucky you were with him," the ranger said. "You and a surgeon. Couldn't be luckier than that."

"What happened to you?" the younger ranger asked when Strange joined them, obviously limping.

"I just sprained my ankle walking on the shore," Stephen told him. "It's fine."

"Do you mind if we talk to Peter about what happened?" the first ranger asked. "Him being a minor, we have to have permission – you're welcome to sit in on the talk. We just need to document whenever something like happens."

"It's up to him," Tony said. "Peter?"

The boy nodded.

"Sure."

They all went over and sat down at the picnic table. The younger ranger brought out a camera and asked to take photos of his injuries, and both rangers shook their heads when they saw the claw marks the bear had left on the boy's hide.

Then they ran him through the events of what had happened – up to the point that he could remember, since he'd been knocked out by the bear's initial attack.

"How did you get away so lightly?" The older ranger asked. "Unarmed like you were."

Peter looked at Tony, helplessly. He obviously couldn't mention that he'd been saved by a magic cloak that had wrapped itself up in the bear's claws and teeth. And certainly couldn't mention that Strange had created a magical portal to send the bear through.

Stark was ready with an answer, though.

"I used the Ironman suit and managed to get between him and the bear. He'd been knocked out, maybe that confused it a bit."

"You didn't kill it?"

"No. It had cubs. Once I got Peter away from it, I'm not sure where it went. I was concentrating on him, obviously."

"Obviously."

"And you think it was injured?" the ranger asked.

Peter nodded. He'd mentioned the limp that he thought he'd detected.

"Go get the arrow, Peter," Tony told him.

He would have gotten it himself to save the boy the movement, but he wasn't sure where it was.

While Peter was gone, Stark gave an abbreviated version of the story of Peter and the guys he saw hunting while he was out exploring. When the boy returned the rangers took the arrow and decided that it was entirely possible that it had been chewed by a large carnivore of some sort – although they wouldn't confirm it was the same bear that had attacked Peter.

"We've taken enough of your time," the older ranger said, standing up. "If you need us, please call – or if you find anything else, of course."

He handed Stark his card, and the two got into their truck and left – taking Peter's arrow with them.

"So where do I put my tent?" Natasha asked Stark, looking around.

"The tent is up," he replied, pointing at their tent. Of course the door was mangled, but he'd have Strange take care of that.

"That's your tent. I'm not sleeping with you guys."

Stark smirked.

"The permit only allows one tent, Romanoff. Sleep with us, or sleep under the sky."

"Or I could sleep in the truck."

"If you find any room."

She glanced at the cab and frowned.

"Why are the coolers in there?"

"Ironically, they are there to keep the bears away," Stephen told her. "We can ask Peter how well that works, I suppose."

"Just sleep with us, Natasha," Peter said. "It'll be more comfortable than trying to sleep in the back of the car. And not so lonely."

Romanoff sighed, and then shrugged.

"Then I suppose I'm sleeping in the tent."

How bad could it be?