Everyone walked past the waterfall without stopping.
But Finn stopped.
Through the rushing white water, he was almost sure he could see something. A shape. Straight edges. A handle.
A door.
Finn stepped carefully around the edge of the pool, staying close to the rock face. The spray soaked his jacket. He reached out.
His hand found a wooden door, swollen with damp, carved with the shape of a fish.
He pulled it open.
Inside was a small dry cave with a lantern hanging from the ceiling, a shelf of seashells, and a logbook. Finn opened it. Hundreds of names, going back years.
He found a pencil in his pocket and wrote his name.
Then he closed the door, stepped back through the spray, and grinned all the way home.