A Hat Full Of Sky

Tiffany’s neck as she lay on the floor. It hung there, amid the amulets and dark glitter.
    “Aye?” said Wullie.
    “It was a present from that son o’ the Baron,” said Rob. “An’ she’s kept it. She’s tried tae turn hersel’ intae some kind of creature o’ the night, but somethin’ made her keep this. It’ll be in her heid, too. ’Tis important tae her. All we need tae do is frannit a wheelstone on it and it’ll tak’ us right where she is.” *
    Daft Wullie scratched his head.
    “But I thought she thought he was just a big pile of jobbies?” he said. “I seen her oout walkin’, an’ when he comes ridin’ past, she sticks her nose in th’ air and looks the other wa’. In fact, sometimes I seen her wait aroound a full five-and-twenty minutes for him tae come past, just so’s she can do that.”
    “Ah, weel, no man kens the workin’s o’ the female mind,” said Rob Anybody loftily. “We’ll follow the Horse.”
From Fairies and How to Avoid Them by Miss Perspicacia Tick:
No one knows exactly how the Nac Mac Feegle step from one world to another. Those who have seen Feegles actually travel this way say that they apparently throw back their shoulders and thrust out one leg straight ahead of them. Then they wiggle their foot and are gone. This is known as “the crawstep,” and the only comment on the subject by a Feegle is “It’s all in the ankle movement, ye ken.” They appear to be able to travel magically between worlds of all kinds but not within a world. For this purpose, they assure people, they have “feets.”

    The sky was black, even though the sun was high. It hung at just past noon, lighting the landscape as brilliantly as a hot summer day, but the sky was midnight black, shorn of stars.
    This was the landscape of Tiffany Aching’s mind.
    The Feegles looked around them. There seemed to be downland underfoot, rolling and green.
    “She tells the land what it is. The land tells her who she is,” whispered Awf’ly Wee Billy. “She really does hold the soul o’ the land in her heid. …”
    “Aye, so ’tis,” muttered Rob Anybody. “But there’s nae creatures, ye ken. Nae ships. Nae burdies.”
    “Mebbe…mebbe somethin’s scared them awa’?” said Daft Wullie.
    There was, indeed, no life. Stillness and silence ruled here. In fact Tiffany, who cared a lot about getting words right, would have said it was a hush, which is not the same as silence. A hush is what you get in cathedrals at midnight.
    “Okay, lads,” Rob Anybody whispered. “We dinna ken what we’re goin’ tae find, so ye tread as light as e’er foot can fall, unnerstan’? Let’s find the big wee hag.”
    They nodded, and stepped forward like ghosts.
    The land rose slightly ahead of them, to some kind of earthworks. They advanced on it carefully, wary of ambush, but nothing stopped them as they climbed two long mounds in the turf that made a sort of cross.
    “Manmade,” said Big Yan, when they reached the top. “Just like in the old days, Rob.” The silence sucked his speech away.
    “This is deep inside o’ the big wee hag’s head,” said Rob Anybody, looking around warily. “We dinna know whut made ’em.”
    “I dinna like this, Rob,” said a Feegle. “It’s too quiet.”
    “Aye, Slightly Sane Georgie, it is that—”
    “You are my sunshine, my only su—”
    “Daft Wullie!” snapped Rob, without taking his eyes off the strange landscape.
    The singing stopped. “Aye, Rob?” said Daft Wullie from behind him.
    “Ye ken I said I’d tell ye when ye wuz guilty o’ stupid and inna-pro-pree-ate behavior?”
    “Aye, Rob,” said Daft Wullie. “That wuz another one o’ those times, wuz it?”
    “Aye.”
    They moved on again, staring around them. And still there was the hush. It was the pause before an orchestra plays, the quietness before thunder. It was as if all the small sounds of the hills had shut down to make room for one big sound to happen.
    And then they found the Horse.
    They’d seen it, back on the Chalk. But here it was not carved into the hillside but spread out before them. They stared at it.
    “Awf’ly Wee Billy?” said Rob, beckoning the young gonnagle toward him. “You’re a gonnagle, ye ken aboout poetry and dreams. What’s this? Why’s it up here? It shouldna be on the top o’ the hills!”
    “Serious hiddlins, Mr. Rob,” said Billy. “This is serious hiddlins. I canna work it out yet.”
    “She knows the Chalk. Why’d she get this