A Glossy Kernel

I walked across the damp gravel path to the arched timber footbridge. Right near the base of the handrail, a split chestnut husk lay open against the weathered cedar planks. Its outer shell was bristling with stiff little spines, but inside, the hollow was lined with the softest pale velvet. Tucked securely in the center sat a single round chestnut, gleaming like polished mahogany. I sat down on the plank and used both paws to gently nudge the nut forward. With a faint click, it slipped free from its cup, rolling a few inches before coming to a quiet halt in the wood grain.