On her hazel-wood broom, Nannog swooped though a pine forest following her sharp nose to the sweep of the Pacific Ocean.
She could see the curve of earth where water met sky and smell sweet brine in the freshening breeze. She fell in behind a formation of pelicans, dropping into an elegant lineup skirting the lip of a rearing wave.
One dipped a wing tip into the mirror surface of cresting water. Nannog did the same with her broom. But the ocean knew not the witch. It swallowed her whole then spit out her long, orange braid upon the shore.
Drabble: Flash fiction in precisely 100 words.