finding stuff!!!

Patrolling the perimeter is fine, but a real warrior keeps his eyes open for things that actually matter. Past the sunlit patio stone, I pushed my way through a thick tangle of stiff dry ferns at the edge of the mulch bed. Right there in the dirt lay a pristine, pale blue bird feather, perfectly intact and completely unmarked by mud. It took delicate work—no rough tugging—to pry it free from the damp mulch without tearing the down. I clamped the quill securely between my teeth, keeping my chin lifted high so it wouldn't drag, and carried it back to stash safely under the sheltered lip of the garden bench. Brightheart would love the color on this.