Noah ignored the boy and bent to pick up the lone feather, his fingertips caressing the tantalising silky smooth fronds.
A pale quill, fluted by fine, fine strands of silk, the feather was not symmetrical, being wider on one side than the other. But it had a singular beauty. It seemed to catch the light just so, capturing that natural radiance and harnessing it for its own purpose; captivating it and using it to transform itself into a kaleidoscope of impossible colours and shades. Blues dazzled the eyes before muting into a shining silver that somehow morphed into a vibrant purple and then softened into a rose, becoming a darkly luxuriant emerald green.