Ankyra Sound holding on to the devil i know

they had been forbidden from the sound. naturally, loko found himself compelled to visit the grey stone and silent, giant trees.

a seawitch. ghosts. the words of his maman; dis place be haunted. loko glanced among the impossibly tall sequoias. a toothsome chill prowled down his spine. maybe sobo should be here instead of him.

he thrust the femur spear-down into the dirt. it snarled through a layer of ice, punctured the soft skin of the loam underneath. dat be for de loa. loko murmured, ears pricking as a whistle of wind carried itself through some distant cavern.