Three Days Later
The weather had changed.
Thick storm clouds rolled across the strait, blanketing the sky in a dense, smothering gray. Winds snapped at the flags on merchant ships and stirred the whitecaps into frothing waves. Somewhere above, hidden from naked eyes, the future of two nations circled.
Amalia tightened her grip on the Ravenspear's control stick as the aircraft bucked slightly in the turbulence. Her instruments flickered under the pressure of the storm, but her hands were steady.
"This is Spear-2," she said over the radio. "Crosswind at upper layers stronger than projected. Compensating. Holding patrol arc."
"Copy that," Rena's voice replied from higher altitude. "No visual on any Veles movement yet. Listening."
Hartwell, flying lower to skim just above the mist, chimed in. "Sea's a mess. Visibility patchy. Hope they can't see us either."
