On the first morning of summer, Pip ran down to the beach and almost tripped over her dog Biscuit. He had a green bottle in his jaws, washed up between two rocks. Pip pried it open. Inside was a paper torn down the middle: half a coastline in faded blue ink, and one word left at the rip. It said HARBOR.

Pip studied the faded ink instead of rushing off. The half-coastline matched the bay in front of her, but it showed a small cove that wasn't on any modern map. She decided to follow the inked shoreline on foot, hugging the rocks, to find the cove the mapmaker drew.

Following the inked line, Pip found a weathered signpost half-sunk in the sand. The arrow pointed up a steep trail into the cliffs. Carved into the wood was the same word from her map: HARBOR. Biscuit started up the trail, tail wagging hard.