The Whistling Narrows

A slot canyon between two mesas where the wind makes a low chord at dusk — ordinary rock, ordinary wind, but the Asheni have their own story for why it never stops.

A narrow cut between mesa walls, smooth stone channeling wind into a chord that begins at sundown and dies an hour after dark. Nothing more is going on than hollow rock and a funnel of air, but the Asheni tell it otherwise, and gravesingers walk a day into the wastes to tune their own songs against it. The cinder moths are drawn to the sound regardless of who is right and follow it in clouds at night. Exposed, cold, beautiful, and dangerous after dark.