cold. they were cold. a pile of periwinkle-blue feathers soft as kit fluff and cold as ocean. they smelled of sky and snow, of places he could only dream of going. what had left them, he didn't know. what creature had down so soft and thick, yet so useless for the cold? in any case, they wouldn't work for nests; beneath the sand the walls radiated the cold of the ocean floor. but they mesmerized him. what sky creature liked the cold? none that he'd seen. he plucked a feather from the pile and hid it in his satchel. nobody would come here, these were useless to them. this was his.
