The One Warm Stone
The snow stopped falling. Lila stepped outside. The cold air touched her nose. Wisp floated beside her, glowing soft. Every window was dark. Every lamp was asleep. The whole village was sleeping under the snow. "Shh, the village is sleeping," said Lila. "Walk soft."
Lila had one warm stone in her pocket. It came from beside the stove. It was round and smooth. It was warm as toast. She held it with both mittens. Wisp glowed a little brighter. The snow squeaked under her boots. Squeak, squeak, squeak.
On a doorstep sat a small grey cat. Her paws were cold. Her nose was cold. She looked at the warm stone. Lila looked at the warm stone too. They both wanted the one warm stone. The snow was quiet. Nobody moved.
Lila thought for a long moment. Then she sat down on the step. She put the stone between them. She opened her scarf wide. The cat crept in close. Now two were warm, not one. The cat began to purr.
The purring was a small warm sound. Lila hummed along with it. One window glowed yellow. Then another. Then another. The lamps woke up slow and soft. "Shh, the village is sleeping," whispered Lila. "Walk soft." The cat purred on.
Lila tucked the stone by the cat's paws. The cat stayed warm on the step. Lila's mittens were cold now. But inside her coat she felt warm. Wisp glowed gold beside her. The snow was blue and still.
Lila's eyes went slow. Wisp drifted under her, soft as wool. Lila lay down on the little cloud. Wisp carried her home past the sleepy lamps. "Shh, the village is sleeping," said Lila. Then she slept too.
