The nest was abandoned, the jay long dead. The straw and sticks had fallen from the crook of the tree season by season. Lowly thieves, the crow thought, that’s all jays are. But a glint caught the crow’s attention. He circled, eyeing the prize. What had the jay stolen now? Something colorful and shiny.
It was too good to pass up. It would look impressive in his nest too. He pecked it loose from the weave of sticks, then clutched it in his claw before it could fall to the ground. As he flew away, he didn’t notice the stopper was loose. It didn’t really matter. He couldn’t put it back anyway. Even he wasn’t that clever a crow.
Dust slipped from the tiny vial, leaving a nice glittering trail behind him. Some of it floated to the ground; some caught on the wind, swirling upward into the clouds; and some whooshed away on currents traveling to places far beyond Tor’s Watch.
Soon the glitter was far behind him, already forgotten by the crow. All he could think of was how magnificent his nest would be once it held his new shiny prize.
