Heading back to Haría, Ann took the circuitous route, driving north along the coast road that skirts the edge of La Corona’s outpourings. The solitude—there was no other car in sight—interrupted by that annoyingly cautionary school mistress lodged in her head, berating her for accepting Richard’s invitation.
Before long, La Corona swept into view to the west, singular in the landscape, a decapitated cone of russet-black rock. Ann drove slowly, taking in the malpais, a lava plain sustaining only lichens and euphorbias, the shore-side broken now and then by pockets of creamy sand. With La Corona in view to her left, the ocean to the right, the scene was primordial. Travelling by car seemed out of joint with these surroundings. She felt an impulse to throw her arms wide and yell into the win
