The creek behind Elliot's neighborhood was not big enough for boats, and it was not deep enough for swimming. But it was perfect for exploring. It curled through the woods like a ribbon, sometimes narrow and quiet, sometimes wide and chatty, always moving as if it had an important place to be. Elliot loved the creek bed most of all. That was where the rocks lived. Then his eyes caught something different. A smooth gray stone lay half buried near the edge of the pool, as if the creek had tried to hide it but gave up halfway. Elliot pulled it free. At first, it looked ordinary. Smooth. Gray. Heavy for its size, which Elliot liked. Then he turned it in his hand. Lines. Not cracks. Not natural stripes. Lines that looked carved. Elliot's heart made a quick excited hop. The markings were faint, like someone had drawn them long ago and time had tried to erase them. But they were still there. One line was long and straight. Another line met it at an angle, making a sharp corner like a little arrow. And near the edge was a tiny X. Elliot placed the stone in Grandpa's hands. At first Grandpa just held it. His thumb traced the surface. His eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in focus, like he was listening with his eyes. Then Grandpa's eyebrows lifted. And his eyes did something Elliot had never seen before. They lit up. Grandpa nodded. He looked from Elliot to the stone, then back again. "When I was a kid, the older kids in these woods had a game. A tradition. They'd hide little treasures and mark the path so someone brave enough could find them." Elliot thought of Chloe right away. Chloe lived next door. She was brave and curious and always had a hair tie around her wrist like she might suddenly need to climb something. They stepped into the woods together. The air changed right away. The neighborhood sounds faded, replaced by rustling leaves, chirping birds, and the soft steady talking of the creek. Looking for the treasure.