Chapter 46 - Dawn on the Outer Banks
Morning arrived with a theatrical explosion of pink and gold across the eastern seaboard. The sun crested the horizon like a molten coin, burning away the nocturnal dew that had gathered on the canvas dodger.
I woke before Fay, easing out of the berth with infinite care so as not to disturb her peaceful slumber. Wrapped in a thick fleece jacket, I climbed the companionway stairs and stepped out onto the damp deck. The air was crisp, smelling sharply of salt and wet pine from the distant mainland shore.
I fired up the galley stove and brewed a fresh pot of coffee, the rich, aromatic scent quickly filling the small cabin. As I carried two mugs up to the cockpit, I found Fay already awake, leaning against the companionway hatch with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like an Andean poncho, her dark hair tumbling messily over her brow.
"You left the furnace," she whispered with a sleepy smile, taking the mug I offered.
"The bed got cold the second you rolled away," I replied, leaning against the stainless-steel rail beside her.
We watched the orange light flood the water, turning the surrounding sea into a sea of molten copper. A school of flying fish erupted suddenly from the starboard side, skipping across the glassy surface like skipping stones before plunging back into the deep.
"What's our heading today?" Fay asked, blowing gently across the rim of her coffee cup.
May you like
"South-southwest," I said, pointing toward the invisible line where Virginia gave way to the endless expanses of the Carolina sounds. "We follow the inside passage for a while, let the coastal winds guide us."
"Sounds like a plan," she murmured, her eyes shining with quiet anticipation. "No maps, no schedules. Just the wind and the water."
