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island that gets hit the worst by the tides, but the best things wash up there. It’s also the part of the island that’s most often ridden with scribblers. Before, they were easy to avoid. Since I learned they’ve been burrowing under the sand, I, like most people, have been afraid to come here. But having Tiam with me gives me courage. Or maybe it’s that I’m already so nervous around him that the thought of being speared by a scribbler doesn’t sound so bad.
    There’s a greenish slime on the sand where the waves once were, and bits of dead insects and jellyfish. In the same instant we see something triangular and reddish poking up from the ground, like an arrow pointing to heaven. We run to it, and Tiam picks it up. It’s just a small, narrow piece of plastic. There are some letters on it. “What does it say?” he asks me.
    I am the only one who can read; if my father and I were gone it would be just another lost art, like dancing or painting pictures. Buck Kettlefish taught me, and I learned, because I’d always wanted to be like him, and that was the only way I could manage. I try to keep it hidden, though, because the king forbids anything that doesn’t contribute to our society. Tiam is the only one who knows I can do it. That secret has been safe with him for many seasons. “R-U-N. It says ‘run,’” I say.
    “Run? From what?”
    I shrug. “It might be part of a bigger word.”
    “Hey, hold out your wrist,” Tiam says. I hold out my hand, and he ties it around there. “Looks good,” he says.
    I admire the way it shines. If I squint just right, it’s just as bright as a string of pearls. Then again, pearls would look silly on me. I’m not royalty like Star. Royalty! “You can’t. You know you need to bring anything we find before the king first.”
    “Nah. They won’t miss that little thing.”
    I’m not sure, but I’m so used to hiding my right arm from them that I suppose it won’t be hard to hide my left one, too.
    “Besides, I may be king in a few weeks’ time,” he says, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
    “Yes, Your Most Grand and Benevolent Majesty,” I say, offering up a curtsy. But I’m unable to keep a straight face.
    “I prefer Your Holiness,” he says, and we both start to laugh again. Then his face hardens. “There is one other thing. Something the king wants me to do.”
    “Oh?” I say, studying the ground. And for the first time, I notice them. Long, winding scribbles in the sand. Fresh ones. They end right before our feet. How could we have been so stupid not to have noticed? Well, for me, whenever I’m with Tiam, I seem to forget everything, including simple things like how to walk and breathe. But was his head so in the clouds at the thought of being king that he didn’t see them? “Tiam,” I whisper.
    He studies them. “Don’t worry. If they were under the sand, you’d see a small circular mound there. They hide with their heads poking up a little, and that’s how they can find us.”
    I’m about to exhale, relieved, when I catch sight of the area behind him. There is, unmistakably, a mound right behind his foot. Two of them, actually. “Um, like those?” I whisper, trying to point. That’s when I notice that there are nearly a dozen more, all within jumping distance of his foot.
    He swallows. “R-U-N,” he says softly, and I don’t have to be told twice.
    I’m three steps into my dash back toward the sleeping compartment when I hear the hissing of the scribblers behind us. Or...in front of us? “Tiam!” I whisper, stopping short. “Look.”
    There are more mounds ahead of us, and I can see their small black faces, dotted in sand, protruding from the ground, as if they’re ready to attack. If they can be called faces. They have no eyes, just horrible mouths with huge ragged teeth and a nose sharper than the royal guards’ metal spears. Tiam comes to a halt beside me, kicking up sand, then reaches behind his back and in one swift motion