THE BOY FOLLOWED THE RAIN of leaves for what seemed like forever. When he grew hungry, he devoured the rest of his sea grapes, but when he was tired, he didn’t stop. His feet ached from walking on the twigs. His skin stung in the hot air. His breath dragged out with each passing hour. But he felt sure he’d reach Umbrella Beach soon.
The thick treetops blocked out the sun, but he could tell it was moving across the sky. Rays pierced the gaps in the leaves in ever-lower angles, and too quickly the shadows of the trunks grew longer and darker on the ground.
Fear curled into the boy’s stomach like a snake, but he willed each foot to continue. He kept his eyes on the path and held his stick high, in case the Wolf returned.
One step and the next, over rocks and twigs. One step and the next, through stinging branches. One step and the next, again and again.
Until the leaves stopped falling, the forest exhaled . . . and he was on the other side.
The boy blinked in the twilight, his heart blooming. He had made it. He was safe. He just had to find his parents.
The ocean sprawled out in front of him, a blue wilderness crawling with bigger waves than the ones he’d seen on the other side of the forest. Round claws tipped with a froth of white rolled toward him, then broke with a SPLASH against a coast of rocks. Big, flat rocks, crammed one after the other. Gray humps like stone giants bent over, heads down, showing their backs to the sky.
There was no white sand. No Umbrella Beach. No family.
Nothing.
The boy had walked through the entire forest and found more of the same on the other side. Water and rocks, rocks and water.
The sky was on fire now, along with the boy’s hopes. And the swelling ocean pressed in closer. He had come so far but was still alone and scared and empty.
“Told you.”
“Shut up.” The boy didn’t want to hear from the bully now.
“Don’t be a sore loser.”
“Shut up!” The boy stamped his foot for punctuation.
“It’s not my fault we came all this way. I told you to—”
“SHUUUUUT UUUUUUUUUP!” The boy raised his stick and banged it again and again and again against the rock at his feet. Anger crackled in every strike until the stick splintered into a thousand tiny pieces.
The boy stilled, stared at what he’d done. The remnants of his broken sword were scattered across the rock.
“No!” he cried, but it was too late. His stick was gone.
“That was smart.”
Anger built within the boy again, a tidal wave threatening to crush him. He wanted to rage against the bully, this place, this useless quest. He wanted to break something bigger . . . something he didn’t care about.
But then the light came.
“Hey!” the boy shouted, his anger dissipating into hope. “Over here. I’m here!”
He jumped up and down, waving his arms over his head. Could his parents see him? Was the source of the light close enough?
The light didn’t linger. It pulsed over him, then out to sea. He was drowned in twilight again.
“No!” The boy kicked the pieces of stick at his feet. “No. No! NOOOOOOOOO!”
He couldn’t let it leave him again. He was so close that he could feel it.
The light had come from his right, but that direction held only trees. Still he had to try.
He took off, running as fast as he could. He didn’t think about the water. He didn’t think about the Wolf. He just ran. Across the backs of the giants, jumping over the rivulets between the rocks. Around the crop of trees that jutted out of the Green Wall . . .
Then he stopped.
Dropping to his knees, the boy stared.
Ahead, a spit of land rose up against the water. Angry waves crashed around the base of the cliff, clawing to get higher.
On top loomed a giant pillar, a silhouette against the darkening sky.
A lighthouse.
And shining from under its crown was his parents’ light.