Seaside Moors although I'm itty-bitty, sittin' pretty

sobeille had seen many places, but not many places such as this. she imagined the surface of earth was like the surface of some giant’s skin — if sapphique was the strong arch of spine, this place was a deep bruise that would not heal.

they made for a thin collection of trees that made their last stand in this cold place; she wondered, do trees get cold? sad? do they watch the world and wish they could participate in it the way those that walked could? or did their dark roots hold a deep knowledge, ever reaching through realms unknowable to those who tread the surface?

mebbe it was different den. sobeille mused, but didn’t believe it. maybe they were cut from a harder stock, and this place was balmy by their standards. or mebbe dis be a bad day to visit. it could be warmer in de summer.