The saltwater sprayed in Ilona’s face.
She registered the echo of the waves bouncing off the rocks, the love song of a pair of seagulls screeching over a mutilated crab. She listened for the tick of metal on rock that would send her running for cover. Gathering her long coat around her she moved forward—following Kelly’s trail. It wasn’t one anyone else would’ve noticed, but sisterhood and survival had given them many different languages. The shape of that pile of rocks, a twist of grass at a game trail—it pulled Ilona onward.