"We're the most special, clearly." Tony falls in line, slipping his wrapped glass, his hammer, and his chisel into his belt. The leather gloves and apron would've been some kind of extra layer but no, he'd had to go without this morning. He could kick himself for it or he could press on, keeping his eyes and ears out for-

Well he never did figure out what a Wendigo looked like other than huge, or what it sounded like other than monstrous so that's.

Stressful.