Then, like waking from an endless dream, Bran suddenly felt the taste of salty air on his tongue and the distant rush of water. He opened his eyes and sat up, finding himself on a grassy sand dune, the wide open sea no more than a stone's throw away in the distance. He stretched and as he did, a black bit of fabric fell off him and he discovered that someone had laid one of his own shirts over him, probably to keep him warm as he slept.
It had to be Misha.
Bran ached to see Misha, to hold him in his arms, to confirm to himself over and over again that he was real.
Bran looked around and saw that a few more items of clothing were strewn about on the sand. He smiled and shook his head then folded them neatly into a pile.
There was a dull thunk, and a black rectangle of metal fell out of the front pocket of the jeans. It was a smartphone.
