“You don’t appear to need a navigator.”

“Not yet.”

Sasha got used to the speed, at least used enough for her heart to stop knocking at every turn of the road. She soothed herself with the sea, the movement of it, the scent of it in the blowing air. The fragrance of flowers mixed with it as they bloomed wild and free on the roadsides, their colors more vivid and intense than any she’d seen. Madly red poppies springing out of a field, greedy morning glory smothering hedges in violent blue, the curving branches of a Judas tree bursting with searing magenta.

She was here, Sasha thought, to find answers to questions that dogged her. But she was here in such bright, hot beauty, and that alone was a personal miracle.

She gave over to it, lifted her face to the sky, let the warm, perfumed air wash over her.

Riley had some tidbit about every village they passed through. Sasha wondered what it was like to be a kind of human guidebook, to have traveled so widely, to actually and actively seek out adventure.

For now, she let herself be in the moment, one of sun, speed, scenery.

She could paint for years here.

Maybe her heart knocked again when they sped along a stretch with sharp turns, with the sea a breathless drop tucked close to the road.

Gradually they turned west, bypassed a large and busy town Sasha identified on the map as Kassiopi.

The road snaked again, skimmed by a lake she longed to sketch.

“Coming in to Acharavi. Originally called Hebe—probably after Zeus’s daughter—in ancient times. Then Octavian sacked it in like 32 BC, so the current name, which basically means ‘ungracious life,’ since being sacked and burned is pretty ungracious.

“We’ll take a pit stop there,” Riley continued as they flew by a water park. “And I’ll make those calls. Albania.” She gestured to the land mass across the water.

“Albania,” Sasha repeated, both giddy and astonished. “Imagine that.” A family water park where she could hear squeals as kids came down the slides on one side, and the coast of Albania on the other.

Was that really any more amazing than a star of fire?

Acharavi bustled with its wide array of shops lining the main street. April had barely begun but holiday-goers thronged the resort town, wandering the shops or enjoying lunch at one of the pavement cafes.

“Spring break,” Riley commented, and turned off the main road. “A lot of Brits and Americans, I’d say, because I see a lot of pale skin that’s going to burn. Hope you stocked up on the sunscreen, Irish.”

“I’m covered there, thanks.” The minute she stopped, he boosted himself out, rolled his shoulders. “You picked a good spot to stretch things out.”

“Aim to please.” She pulled out her phone. “If you two want to walk down to the beach, I’ll catch up.”

Golden sand, sea oats, blue water, and the boats on it, some trailed by skiers. And Albania shadowing the horizon.