A Flawless Conker

I stepped down the damp embankment beside the old weir, where the autumn current gathers river drift against the stone pilings. Wedged among sodden leaves lay a freshly split burr, its pale interior cradling a single, untarnished conker. Kneeling with deliberate care to keep my cloak clear of the silt, I coaxed the chestnut free using the slender tip of my wand. Not a single fissure marred its polished mahogany shell. Such natural curiosities require no compounding to prove worthwhile; wiped clean with a scrap of linen, its solid weight will serve Stellarus well as a harmless pocket keepsake.