The task was simple. He'd choose three of the best stones from his pile to bring. Three seemed like a good number to carry.

He shuffled through the pile for a few minutes and frowned. They were all the same boring chunks of rock.

How could he decide?

If he chose a rock too big, it'd be too heavy to carry and he'd be slow to follow Ringo to the bird kings. If he chose one too small, would it be too small to be worth anything to the yellow-eyed bird? Still, if he brought too few, or too many, would that also earn disapproval?

He pushed through the pile some more. As he pushed, bits began to spill about and after a few short seconds the boy was surrounded in yellow stones on all sides. Sharp stones. Stones too far spread to jump over and too close together to walk though. 'Painted' into a corner, the dog sat down in the clear spot his did have and frowned.

Well, at least he could see what was what a little better this way.

He yet again began picking through the scattered pile. This time, with an easy time seeing everything individually, the boy was able to pick out his first choice- a flat curved piece of his shell that seemed about a tea plate in size. He set it neatly between his paws and admired its shine.

He knew he wanted three. Three was a good number. Two was fine but three was fun.

He pushed aside a few unworthy pieces and paused over a few questionable ones.

Another good stone, similar to the first, was soon set into his growing stash.

One more stone. This one had to be perfect and match both of his other choices. Picky and finicky, the dog shuffled through his options with a scrutinizing stare. So far, nothing was popping out at him.

It didn't take him too much longer to find the third stone. After sorting the three into a pile, he scooped them up and headed off to follow Ringo. (end)