The air smells of rain and salt, fresh and new, as if the world has been washed clean overnight. Elora stretches beside me in bed, her fingers sleepily finding mine as she blinks up at me with a lazy smile. "Morning," she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep.
I brush a strand of hair from her face. "Morning."
The pod house we are staying in sits perch right at the edge of the dunes, a perfect little bubble of seclusion with curved glass walls that allows us to see the sea from almost every angle.
Charlie and Patricia were already awake when we step outside onto the deck, their laughter mixing with the soft lapping of the waves. The pod house has a wraparound porch, and Charlie is sprawling out in a hammock, tossing a ball up into the air while Patricia is sitting cross-legged nearby, scribbling in her travel journal.
"Look who's finally up," Charlie tease. "Thought you two decided to sleep through the whole trip."
