The Stone That Keeps Warm

Plink. Plink. Plink. Pip's ears went up first. Theo crouched by the little stream and pushed the warm ferns aside. Something was tapping under the water. He reached in. The water was warm as bathwater, and the rain was warm too, falling slow and fat on the big leaves. Theo lifted out a round grey stone. It sat in his palm like a small sun. It was warmer than the water. It was warmer than his hands.

Pip sniffed the stone and sneezed. Theo turned it over. One side had a smooth dip in it, worn soft, the way a step gets worn. Somebody had kept this stone somewhere for a long time. He held it against his chest. The rain stopped, and steam came up off the ferns in slow white ribbons. Theo looked up the valley, where the big footprints went, each one filled with warm rain. "It's not ours," he said. "Let's take it home."

They walked up the valley together. The stone kept its heat, like new bread. Theo thought about his cold hands at night, and how good the stone would feel under his blanket. Pip trotted close, brushing his knee. Wide slow animals grazed in the ferns and watched them go by with soft eyes. Nobody hurried here. Theo moved the stone to his other hand, then back again, because both hands wanted it.

At the top of the valley, ferns grew in a great round heap, taller than Theo. A long-necked dinosaur lay beside it with her chin on the moss, half asleep. Her breath moved the leaves. Pip stopped and sat down. Theo knelt and looked closely at the side of the heap. There was a hollow in it. The hollow was round. It was exactly the size of his two hands together. He touched inside. It was cold.

Theo held the stone over the hollow and did not let go. It was the best thing he had ever found. It would have been warm all night, every night, in the dark beside him. He breathed out slowly. Pip's ears stayed up. Then Theo turned the stone until he found the worn dip, and set it down in the hollow, dip side up, the way it must have sat for a very long time.

He pulled ferns over it, one leaf at a time, until only the grey top showed. Then he laid his hand flat on the heap and waited. Slowly, under his palm, the cold place turned warm. The long-necked dinosaur sighed in her sleep, and all the leaves lifted and settled. Theo sat back on his heels. His hands were empty now, and cool, and that was all right. Pip leaned his whole warm side against him.

The walk back down was slow. Mist sat low in the ferns and the frogs began clicking. Theo's hands were cold and the rest of him was warm, which felt strange and good. Pip found the trail of big footprints again, each one brim full of rain. Theo stopped at the widest one. That water had been sitting in the sun all afternoon. He knelt and put both hands in, right up to his wrists.

The warmth climbed his arms like a slow drink. Pip rested his chin on Theo's shoulder and watched the water wobble. Far up the valley, the great heap of ferns was just a dark shape now, and the dinosaur beside it breathed in and out, in and out. "It's not ours," Theo said softly. "It's home." He lifted his hands out, dripping and pink, and dried them on Pip's fur, and Pip let him.

Theo lay down in the moss where the ferns grew thick and warm. Pip curled against his side, russet and heavy, rumbling a little. The sky went from grey to deep blue. The first star came out over the valley like a lamp left on for them. Somewhere up the hill, something warm was being kept warm. Theo's eyes closed. He reached over without looking, found Pip's small warm paw, and held it.