On the seventh morning, the train was due into Vladivostok. The Moscow clock said 06:15. The local clock said 13:15. Polly woke at first light.
The forest outside had become low hills and grass. The Pacific was ahead. She could feel it.
The last stop before Vladivostok was Ussuriysk. The train stopped for fifteen minutes. Polly hopped down. A woman was selling smoked fish. Polly tried a piece. The woman wrapped it and refused payment.
The Pacific appeared on the right side of the train. It was grey and bright.
Vladivostok arrived all at once. The city sits in hills that come down to the sea. The train ended right at the harbour.
The Moscow clock read 06:23. The local clock read 13:23.
Read it. Then say it.
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Polly hopped down. Vladivostok smelled of fish and rust and salt. Steep streets came down to the docks.
At the end of the platform was a small white obelisk. It read: KILOMETRE 9,289. The end of the line.
Polly stood at the obelisk for a long minute. Seven days. Twenty-five million years of Lake Baikal. One crane. Eight time zones.
She stretched her wings. The Pacific was just past the harbour wall. She lifted off. She flew over the cranes of the port. The Sea of Japan opened in front of her.
