The ropes scrape softly against the wooden mooring posts. Hani, pressing her short silver-gray hair back with the back of her hand, pushes her brass goggles up to her forehead and tightens the knot on the envelope bundle once more. Sunlight spreads through the clouds, but the east wind vane swings in the opposite direction.
Standing next to the Skylark, she unfolds a small route chart. A detour is drawn in red pencil on one side of the map, and the departure clearance box is still empty.