Here damp, grassy hills surround a small pool of water; the lush verdure paves the ground until a short cliff gives way to a ring of small, smooth stones that have been pounded by waves until they became the glassy obsidian pebbles they now are. Beyond the stones, a narrow stretch of sand glides into the water- it is here, in the rippling surf, that the land earns its name. In the dark of night, the moon flashes over the shivering grass and rests in the cove: by some chance or fate, the cove is shaped so that the gossamer rays of moonlight are retained, somehow, in the sea and until dawn breaks the cove is alive with silver luminescence.
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