Lion Head Mesa i push myself a little closer to the edge

as i doubt the teekon wilds has any ostrich feathers laying about, i used creative freedom for the feather of ma'at.

ingram wakes from his slumber; startled and disoriented. seaglass gaze is foggy with lingering vestiges of sleep threatening to pull him back under. the vision still hangs, vivid in his mind's eye. a chamber, carved from obsidian, threaded with lapis lazuli and gold.

the scales.

a still beating heart and the feather.

he stretches as he stands, touching his nose to his threadbones, though leaves them in his little nook for them, knowing what he must seek.

he hunts small game to fill his belly and sets off, in search of a bird or nest that might fill this requirement.

it takes some time before the patronsaint feels rather lucky despite the morning hours spent searching as he comes across an ivory plume. likely shed from a snowy white owl or some other sort of ivory colored bird. it did not matter what.

greedily, he snatches it and begins his trek back to where he's stashed his threadbones, eager to add this new tool to his collection to serve the deathlord osiris.