Robin waited until Regina was out of his sight before reopening the pouch. The brief time it had been in his hand hadn't given him enough time to savour the experience.
It was warm…and soft. He could search all the materials of all the realms and it wouldn't compare to the softness of this thing; solid as a jewel yet with all the fragility of a baby bird. Like a velvet kiss against the rough callouses of his fingers and palm.
Yet even that couldn't properly describe the softness he felt.
The wonder and awe it seemed to inspire in his heart hadn't been felt since Roland's birth. Only more so; since this wasn't tinged with the grief of his recollections. He marvelled at the inky tendrils that smoked their way throughout and how the red at the centre seemed to pulse a bit bright against them. A man could stand for hours watching their formations and never get bored with the intricate patterns.
As it is he could only think of one sentence to describe it all.
The thief opened his mouth to whisper…
.
.
.
…And the night air kept his secret.