The hill where walking's dicey, or a book that's somewhat spicy.

In darkness deep where whispers echo, nature sculpts her secret halls, a retreat for winged creatures and buried tales of old.

I rise and fall at the moon’s command, and stretch beyond the reach of land. I cradle seaweed and creatures deep, while guiding lights above me sweep.

I roar, I rumble, I burble. I splash, I murmur, I gurgle. I can sound like thunder. I can pull you down under.

I start out small, yet grow to be, a winding path that feeds the sea.