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“There,” Nikita indicated with a nod.
Her observation sent Altman moving into the wheelhouse and retrieving his high-power scope. Then he hunkered down behind the gunwale to look out.
Mick followed the sight line but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Kamchatka had started out impossibly foreign. Black sand beaches, backed by grasslands and forests turned autumn shades. Like Alaska, the landscape was harsh enough that there wasn’t a wide variety of species, but the ones that survived were dramatic. He recognized the dusty, dark green of spruce, the yellow-gold of larch, and the brilliance of white-barked birch.
Beyond them, rising in a jagged line of sentinels, volcano after volcano defined the horizon. These weren’t the broad lava domes of Hawaii or the grand old mountains of
