Emery and the Cloud-Puff Flock

As Emery floated into the dream-sky, a swirl of cloud magic wrapped around them. Emery shrank—first to toy-size, then button-size. Their clothes shrank, too, but their colorful scarf stayed its usual size and slipped from their neck. Poof! Emery landed on a cloud no bigger than a pillow—and heard a tiny voice call, “We’ve lost the flock!”

A young cloud with a round, puffy face hurried over. “I’m Nimbus,” he said. “Those little cloud-puffs were following me to their bedtime mountain. Then a breeze scooped them away!”

Emery looked down at their hands. They were no bigger than buttons. Their shoes were button-sized, too, and the colorful scarf lay curled beside them. “I’ll help you find them,” Emery said.

Nimbus pointed across the high, soft dream-sky. Far away, a mountain made of clouds rose above a blanket of blue. The missing puffs bobbed between here and there, little white dots against the wide sky.

“Come on!” said Emery.

Nimbus stretched out a fluffy arm, and Emery climbed aboard. They sailed past a cloud shaped like a sleepy whale and under a thin cloud that looked like a ribbon. Soon they spotted three puffs wobbling near a row of feathery clouds.

“There you are!” called Nimbus.

The three puffs bumped together, then hurried after him. But a breeze whisked across the sky. It tugged Emery’s scarf and sent the puffs spinning in different directions.

“Wait!” cried Nimbus. He turned left to guide one puff, then right to guide another. A third puff bobbed behind him, while two more bounced away in the other direction.

“I can’t lead them all at once!” Nimbus called.

Emery held tight to his back as the breeze carried them along. Below, the blanket of blue stretched on and on. Ahead, the bedtime mountain waited, but the flock was scattered across the sky.

“We’ll find a way,” Emery said. Then the scarf fluttered again, and one little puff turned to follow its bright stripes.

Emery watched the puff trail after the scarf. When the breeze lifted the red end, the puff floated toward it. When the yellow end dipped, the puff dipped, too.

“Look, Nimbus!” Emery called. “That puff follows my scarf!”

Nimbus glanced over his shoulder. “It does! But it’s only one puff.”

“That’s enough to show us what to do.” Emery unwound the scarf and held out one edge. Since Emery had grown so tiny, the scarf made a wide, bright streamer. “Let’s make it a streamer. The breeze can carry its colors where the puffs can see.”

Nimbus lowered himself until Emery could tie one end of the scarf around a curl of cloud. Then he lifted the other end high. The scarf stretched out like a bright little road, its colors waving in the air.

Emery stood near the end and called, “Follow the colors, little puff!”

The puff came bobbing closer. It nudged the streamer, then sailed along beside it toward Nimbus. One by one, the other puffs noticed the moving colors. They turned from their wandering paths and joined the small parade.

Nimbus guided the flock from the front. Emery held the streamer’s edge behind them, and Nimbus kept it floating whenever the breeze softened. Sometimes the puffs drifted too far apart, and Emery gave the scarf a cheerful wave. They gathered close again.

At last, only one puff remained. It had floated beyond a row of lumpy clouds, where the breeze could not quite reach it.

“I’ll go,” said Emery.

Nimbus carried Emery across the gap. Emery climbed down onto a flat cloud and, with Nimbus holding them steady, waved the scarf high. Its colors danced in the open air. The last puff peeked around the cloud, then followed the streamer, slow as a floating feather.

“Almost there,” Emery called.

Nimbus held out his arms. The puff bumped gently into his side, and the whole flock gathered around him.

Together they turned toward the bedtime mountain. Nimbus led from the front, while Emery’s bright streamer guided the puffs behind. The mountain grew larger beneath them, and soon they reached its broad, fluffy slope. The flock settled into a soft, sleepy pile.

Nimbus curled around the pile of cloud-puffs, making a cozy place in the middle for Emery. Still button-small, Emery spread the colorful scarf over them like a tiny blanket.

“Thank you,” Nimbus whispered. His voice was as quiet as a feather landing. “I thought I had to guide every puff by myself.”

“You didn’t,” said Emery. “We did it together.”

The puffs nestled closer. One rested against Nimbus’s shoulder. Another made a small pillow beside Emery. A third puff had a little curl on top, and it bobbed once before growing still.

From the mountain, the dream-sky seemed wide enough to hold every cloud in the world. Far below, the blanket of blue lay smooth and calm. Above, the stars blinked slowly, one after another, as if they were counting the puffs.

Emery watched the flock settle. The breeze moved gently over the mountain, but the puffs stayed together, tucked into Nimbus’s warm, cloudy sides. The scarf’s bright colors rested over Emery.

“Good night, little flock,” Emery murmured.

“Good night, Emery,” whispered Nimbus.

A star blinked above the mountain. Then another. Emery’s eyes grew heavy as the cloud-puffs made a soft, quiet nest around them. The whole sky seemed to hush, and the mountain held its sleepy visitors beneath the patient stars.