The sand stretched endlessly, soft grains reflecting the faint light of the overcast sky. Andrew squinted at the landscape, a sense of déjà vu creeping over him. He motioned at the horizon, the outline of dunes rising and falling in the distance.
"Did we seriously land in the same spot?" Andrew asked, his tone caught between disbelief and annoyance.
Mella glanced at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes as the wind picked up. "Not quite," she said, pointing behind them. "That tree wasn't there before. We're farther down the beach. Same world, different spot."
Andrew nodded, though it was hard to tell one patch of barren beach from another. The air was heavy with salt, but there was a strange lifelessness to it—no birds, no waves crashing, just the faint hiss of the breeze over the sand.
