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

"not'in'. it be an old place, but dat be all i sense."
had their grandmothers found magick in the land that dipped and turned in on itself? had they delighted in the keening wind, in the way the grasses bent their backs beneath the lash of that scouring cry? had they enjoyed the stunted trees, the great air-swept boulders which punctuated the landscape like blunt teeth?
for all her speculation, chani found no calling, no muted joy. it was not a place meant for habitation.
she gave sobeille a long, sober glance, turning back toward the shoreline and its freer pathways.