The Sun-Pennies
Theo climbed the last of the evening stairs with Pip beside him. The steps were soft and cool under his feet. He was looking for sun-pennies. All day the sun sat on the stairs and left round warm patches behind. At night you could lift them up like coins. Theo found one on the third step and cupped it in both hands. It was warm as toast. "One more warm one, then we climb," he said. Pip's ears went up.
Theo had folded his blanket into a pocket, deep and soft. The warm penny went inside and glowed there like a small lamp. Pip found the second one himself, on a step where the wind had not reached. Theo lifted it slowly so it would not spill. The air up here was cold on his cheeks. The blanket pocket was not cold at all. Pip pressed his nose to it and sneezed. Two pennies. The pocket wanted more.
They climbed. The stairs went up in slow curls, like steam off a cup. Theo found the third penny under a loose bit of mist and tucked it away. His fingers were pink. He blew on them to wake them up. "One more warm one, then we climb," he said. Then Pip stopped. Pip's ears turned toward the railing of cloud. Something under it was shivering. Theo knelt down to look.
A bird sat there, small and grey and light as paper. Its feathers were damp with mist. It did not fly away. It shook the way a leaf shakes. Theo held his hand near it and felt how cold that little bird was. He opened his blanket pocket. The warm slipped out into the night air, just a little. Pip watched him. Theo took the first penny out and set it down beside the bird.
The bird leaned toward the warmth. So Theo set down the second penny too. Then the third. He made a little ring of warm around the small grey bird, and the shivering stopped. His blanket pocket was empty now, and cool, and light as air. The bird tucked its beak under its wing. Theo stood up slowly so the stairs would not shake. "Sleep there," he said. Then he and Pip went on up.
The night had taken most of the warmth off the stairs. Theo looked on every single step. He found a cool patch, and another cool patch, and a patch that was only damp. His hands went up inside his sleeves. Pip walked ahead with his nose down, checking. Far below them, the lamps of the world were small and gold. Theo did not turn back. "One more warm one, then we climb," he said.
Near the top, Pip stopped again and looked up. The moon was resting on the wide flat step above them, the way a cat rests on a sill. Theo climbed up to it. The step under the moon was warm. Not sun-warm. Silver-warm, soft as a cup held in two hands. He laughed, very quietly. He lifted one penny of it, and then another, and another, until the blanket pocket was full and glowing.
Theo and Pip sat down on the top landing with the pocket between them. The warm came up through the blanket and into Theo's back. Then the snow started: small, slow flakes, drifting past the stairs below. Theo looked down the long curl of steps. Somewhere down there, three little warm spots sat in a ring, and nothing was shivering. "One more warm one, then we climb," he said, just because he liked saying it.
Pip curled against his side, warm as new bread. The snow came down slow. It did not melt and it did not hurry. It settled on the railing of cloud. It settled on Pip's ears and on Theo's sleeve, soft as nothing at all. Theo pulled the blanket over them both. Below, the long stairs went quiet. The moon stayed where it was, keeping the step warm. Theo closed his eyes, and the snow kept settling.
