This handheld slate tablet comes with several sticks of white chalk. The actual tablet itself has been thoroughly used, covered in layer after layer of half-erased drawings, but the cherry-stained wooden frame was clearly added recently.
Most of the faint chalk drawings seem to have been of people or animals—hastily drawn with minimal detail, each one with scribbles over the subject's eyes, ears, or hands. Upon further inspection, you notice that tiny, carefully-carved runes border the outer edge of the frame, which glow with a faint light when a stick of chalk is touched to the slate.
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.
