Nimbus Finds a Quiet Hollow

Nimbus floated in a slow circle above the valley, looking for a place to stop drifting. Below him, a soft blanket of mist covered the ground. Moonlit peaks rose through it, pale and still, like tall boats sailing in a silver sea.

“Somewhere cozy,” Nimbus murmured. “Somewhere I can rest my fluffy edges.”

He spotted a flat ledge on the mountain’s open side. It looked just wide enough for a small cloud. Nimbus lowered himself gently. His bottom brushed the stone, and he gave a happy little sigh.

Then a breeze slipped over the ledge. It nudged Nimbus’s side. He slid a little, then a little more, until he floated away from the mountain.

“Oh!” Nimbus called. “I was almost settled!”

The breeze carried him in a lazy loop above the mist. It wasn’t a strong breeze, but it kept him moving. Nimbus tried to hold his shape, puffing up like a round cushion. Still, the air lifted him toward another open ledge.

He tried that one, too. He drifted down, touched the stone, and began to relax. The breeze tickled under his edge and lifted him back into the sky.

A small cloud nearby watched him with kind, sleepy eyes. Her name was Mabel. She rested beside a patch of moonlit snow, tucked close to the mountain.

“Are you looking for a resting place?” Mabel asked.

“I am,” said Nimbus. “Every ledge feels nice, but the breeze keeps carrying me off.”

Mabel glanced up at the tallest peak. “The air moves in different ways around the mountain,” she said. “Maybe there’s a quieter spot.”

Nimbus looked at the high, shining peak. He felt tired, but he still wanted to find a place where he could stay. He gave his edges a little shake, gathered his courage, and floated toward the mountain again.

Nimbus drifted along the mountain’s open face. The breeze followed, brushing his wispy tail and nudging him past one ledge, then another.

“Perhaps this one,” he said, lowering himself toward a narrow shelf of stone.

His bottom touched down. For one quiet moment, Nimbus stayed put. Then the breeze curled around the shelf and lifted him again. He bobbed upward, round and surprised.

Mabel floated beside him. “You keep trying,” she said.

“I really want to rest,” Nimbus replied. “I just need to find a place where the breeze can’t keep scooting me away.”

They moved slowly toward the tallest peak. Its snowy top gleamed in the moonlight. As they passed its broad shoulder, Nimbus noticed something: the breeze that had been brushing his tail seemed softer. He drifted a little farther, and it grew quieter still.

Nimbus paused. He stretched one thin edge toward the open valley. There, the breeze tugged gently. He tucked that edge behind the peak. The tug disappeared.

“Wait,” he whispered. “The mountain is blocking the breeze!”

Beyond the peak’s shoulder, a hollow curved into the mountain’s side. It was sheltered from the open air, and a smooth patch of cool stone rested at its center. Nimbus looked at the hollow, then back at the bright valley.

“What if the air changes?” he asked.

Mabel smiled. “We can take it slowly.”

Nimbus swallowed his worry. He floated forward, one soft puff at a time. The breeze touched his back, but the mountain stood between him and the open valley. It could not sweep around the broad peak to reach him.

Nimbus slid into the hollow. His lower edge touched the stone. He waited. The air stayed quiet.

“I’m still here,” he said, almost too softly to hear.

Mabel settled nearby, close enough to keep him company. Nimbus let out a little cloud-sigh. At last, he had found a place where he could stop drifting.

The hollow held the hush of the mountain. Above it, the moon shone over the snowy peak. Below it, the valley’s blanket of mist stretched from one distant ridge to another, smooth and pale.

Nimbus lay against the cool stone. He let his edges loosen, just a little. One wispy curl drifted down over his side like a blanket. Another puff rested beside his cheek.

“Is the breeze still out there?” he whispered.

“Farther around the mountain,” Mabel whispered back. “It can pass by without bothering us.”

Nimbus listened. He heard no rushing, no pushing, and no little scoot across the stone. Only the quiet sounds of the night: a faint rustle in the mist and the soft hush of clouds moving high above the peaks.

His round middle grew softer. His edges spread gently over the hollow, silver in the moonlight. He didn’t need to hold himself tight anymore. The mountain stood beside him, steady and broad, keeping the breeze away.

Mabel settled on a smooth spot nearby. She tucked her own wispy edges in and gave Nimbus a sleepy smile.

“Good night, Nimbus.”

“Good night, Mabel.”

For a little while, Nimbus watched the moonlight resting on the snow. Then his eyes grew heavy. The mist below seemed to grow softer, too, as though the whole valley were settling into bed.

Nimbus breathed in slowly, then let the breath drift out. He felt the stone beneath him, the quiet hollow around him, and Mabel resting close by. Nothing tugged at his edges. Nothing asked him to move.

The peaks stood beneath the stars, calm and silver. The moon climbed a little higher. In the sheltered hollow, Nimbus grew still, his soft shape resting peacefully in the mountain’s quiet care.