Is It Fluffy Yet

The evening sky turned pink and then soft lilac. High above the hills, Cloud Castle drifted slowly on the wind. Its towers were white and round, like scoops of fresh cream.

Elsie padded along the castle hall in her woolly socks. The floor was cool and soft, and it gave a little under every step. Somewhere far below, a river whispered in the dark.

Benny the Bunny sat on the window seat with his ears drooping. He held a thin grey cloud in his paws. It looked more like a puddle than a pillow.

"My pillow has gone flat," said Benny. "I cannot sleep on a flat pillow."

Elsie sat down beside him and touched the cloud. It felt cold and damp, like morning grass. It did not puff or bounce at all.

"Then we will make it fluffy again," said Elsie.

Benny twitched his nose. He hopped from one floor tile to the next, because hopping helped him not to worry. One hop, two hops, three hops, and back again.

Elsie laid the cloud on the window seat. She patted it gently with both hands, pat, pat, pat. The cloud stayed flat and grey.

"Is it fluffy yet?" asked Benny.

"Not yet," said Elsie.

Outside, the first star blinked awake. The wind hummed low around the tallest tower. Benny yawned a long, slow bunny yawn.

Elsie picked up the cloud and shook it, the way Grandma shook the blankets. Little white wisps flew off and floated away. Now the pillow was even thinner than before.

"Is it fluffy yet?" asked Benny.

"Not yet," said Elsie.

Benny's ears drooped lower. He tucked his paws under his chin and looked at the floor. Elsie looked out of the window at the big, quiet sky.

The real clouds were drifting past the castle, slow and round. They did not hurry. They only breathed in the evening air and grew softer and softer.

"Clouds like slow things," Elsie whispered. "Maybe they like slow breaths too."

She held the little cloud close to her face. She breathed in through her nose, slowly, slowly. Then she breathed out, long and warm, and hummed a quiet tune.

The cloud stirred in her hands. It grew a little rounder. Elsie breathed in again and hummed again, softer this time.

"Is it fluffy yet?" asked Benny.

Elsie breathed one more long, warm breath. The cloud swelled up, plump and white, like bread rising in the oven. It smelled of rain and clean sheets.

"Yes," said Elsie. "Now it is fluffy."

Benny pressed his paw into the pillow. It sank in softly and bounced back up. He gave a happy little hop, just one, because he was very sleepy now.

Elsie smiled and stroked the soft white cloud. It was as light as dandelion fluff and as warm as a cup of milk.

"You did it, Elsie," said Benny. "You found the slow way."

They carried the pillow up the winding stairs to the tower room. The stairs curled round and round like a snail shell. Their footsteps made no sound at all.

The tower room had a round window full of stars. Benny's bed was a nest of cloud, and Elsie's bed was a nest beside it. Elsie tucked the fluffy pillow under Benny's long ears.

"Is your pillow just right now?" asked Elsie.

"Just right," mumbled Benny, and his nose stopped twitching.

The wind sang softly around the tower. A silver moon rose and laid its light on the floor like a pale, quiet blanket. The castle rocked gently, the way a boat rocks on a calm pond.

Elsie lay down in her own cloud nest. It was warm and round and smelled of rain. Her eyes grew heavy, and her toes grew warm.

Benny breathed in slowly, and Elsie breathed in slowly too. Benny breathed out, and Elsie breathed out. The stars blinked, and the castle drifted on.

"Good night, Elsie," whispered Benny the Bunny.