As you lift the eggs gingerly from the eagle's nest, you notice—squashed beneath the weight of the eggs—a mass of flattened fabric covered in white-and-black droppings and heavily soiled with dirt. The mother eagle must have brought some unattended item of clothing up to line its nest some time ago, before she laid her eggs. Despite your better judgment, you pinch the edge of the garment and peel it away from the rest of the nest, shaking it to be rid of the stray feathers and small animal bones. It is evidently a woolen poncho, though unremarkable in every way. At least, as far as you can tell...
Not certain what to do next, but positive that you won't be climbing down with the thing (and unwilling to put it back for some reason), you drop it to the ground from halfway up the tree. You watch as it falls, surprised at the graceful waves of air that fill out its folds. It lands almost elegantly, suggesting something more than an ordinary woolen poncho.
You climb down with your breakfast in the bag over your shoulder. Reaching the ground, you set the bag down by the tree and pick up the repulsive article of clothing, convinced now that there must be something else to it. Eyeing it in your hands, and questioning yourself every step of the way, you actually put it on.
Instantly, you hear the screech of an eagle overhead. Before you can even react the mother bird is upon you, coasting past your head, clawing at your face, nearly ripping your ear off. But just as quickly, you feel the waves of air coasting past you, and it feels as if your body were one with the horrid wool poncho, flapping in the wind, and drifting out of the way.
Unscathed, and uncertain what's going on, you forget about breakfast. Before the mother eagle can bank around for another pass, you leave your bag and dive into the underbrush with your fine new—foul-smelling—treasure.
While wearing this feces-stained wool poncho, you benefit from a +1 dodge bonus to AC.
Coloma's mother admired the way the doves flew about in pairs. That was how they would be, Coloma and she, and so she named her daughter "Dove" in the language of the Ranai. Coloma always felt a connection to flying creatures, and from a very young age she ran around waving bedsheets like wings, pretending to be an eagle, flying through the skies of her imagination.
But one night, it was more than her imagination. The fairies came riding an eagle—a real eagle—and invited Coloma to ride with them. Coloma put on her mother's woolen poncho for warmth and away she went to fairyland. All night she flew on the back of the eagle, and into the next day. The night came again, and day, and night, like the blinking of a firefly.
It was to Coloma as if time were breathing in and out, in and out, faster with each passing moment. At last it was beating as quickly as her heart beat for joy, and as the smile crept across her face, the world became nothing but flickering light and darkness. Coloma stretched out her arms as if to fly. No longer cold, she pulled the poncho from her body and let it flutter out behind her. And as her fingers let the fabric slip from her fingers, Coloma, too, slipped from the mortal world.
Years later, Coloma's mother stared at the night sky, searching, searching as she had for years. Tonight, unlike every other night, she saw something that caused her heart to lift and sink in the same moment. Fluttering down from the sky was her long-lost woolen poncho, blowing in the wind like a handkerchief waved in farewell.
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