"I will show them to you," he says to her, finishing off his meal and tossing the 'skewer' stick into the flame, as he has done with all the rest. Standing from the blanket (his kilt has been folded neatly and used as a pillow since the first night when he decided to preen along the shoreline - he sees no point in wearing it in this place) he gathers up the shells and walks towards her head.

"This one is the one," he holds it up to her. "That reminds me of your eyes." It is a violet colored shell, perhaps of a snail or other creature. He selects a larger piece, smooth and flat. "This one is grey, but it is smooth, like your scales...this one..." he holds up another. "...it is heart shaped."

That should be self-explanatory.

Another. "This one is more ridged, but it is brown and white, like my wings are."