Seaside Moors echèk

it was easy then, to bring her arm around maleah, to lean into the sweet softness of her body; the women rested as one and listened to the cold wind scouring the moors in a mournful howl; mireille turned her ears into it, listening, listening hard for miette's questioning pipe or astera's kind chatter.
nothing, nothing save for she and maleah and the infernal keen of a khamsin that knew only salt.