“No, you are not,” she said sternly, not an infrequent tone around here.

“Not what?” I asked, playing dumb, also not infrequent.

“You are not going camping with a giant talking bear with a…a…an owl beak!”

“Eagle,” I corrected, a bad habit.

“What?”

“Eagle. It’s obviously an eagle beak.” She didn’t look thrilled with the correction, but I continued, “You can tell by the shape, see?”

Her eyes said it all, but she kept talking anyway, “Are you insane?!”

“It’s no big deal. I have a bunch of gear to test before the September issue, and I go camping all the time—kind of my job,” I said, throwing stuff in my pack with patented ClikLok adjustable weight distribution.

“Seth! I don’t care about camping. It’s the giant talking bear you’re taking with you!”

I shrugged, “He seems harmless, and who knows what the Jensens next door will do if they see him.” I looked outside. The bear was still on the porch, mumbling through the door, pleading, tears in his giant eyes.

“Fine,” she said, “I’m coming too.”