Wending her way across the wide broadpaths of the winding moor, she went crosswise and widdershins to meet her Moor, wishing upon a star all the while that he would do the winding of her bedsheets with her wound up in them, whimpering softly in wild ecstacy while he whispered sweet nothings in her winsome ear, her whimpering for more of her Moor, on the moor, forevermore.