Nino and the Cloud Unicorn

Nino the little deer lay in his nest of warm leaves. The leaves were soft and dry and smelled like rain long gone. A small moon hung up high. Its light came down slow and silver. Nino blinked up at it. He was cozy. He was safe.

Nino loved to look at the sky. He looked at it every night. He saw shapes in the clouds. He saw a sleepy fish. He saw a round, soft bear. He talked to the stars in a quiet voice. "Hello up there," he would whisper. The stars only blinked back, slow and kind.

Tonight the clouds moved low and slow. They were big and white and round. Nino watched one cloud drift near. It had a long soft neck. It had a small round head. And on its head was a little horn, made all of cloud.

"A unicorn," Nino whispered. "A cloud unicorn."

The cloud unicorn turned its soft head. It looked right at Nino. Its eyes were two pale stars. It did not make a sound. It only blinked, slow and warm, the way the stars did.

Nino felt his heart go soft. He had wished for a unicorn for so long. He had wished on every star. And now here one was, made of moonlight and cloud. It floated low, just over the grass.

The unicorn dipped its head down to him. "Come," it seemed to say, with no words at all. "Come and walk a little while."

Nino stood up on his small legs. He stepped out of his warm nest. The grass was cool and damp on his feet. The night was hushed and still. He walked beside the cloud unicorn, slow and soft.

They did not go fast. They never go fast in the night. The unicorn floated low beside him. Its soft white sides glowed in the moon. When Nino breathed out, the unicorn breathed out too. Hush, went their breath. Hush, hush, hush.

They walked past the old still pond. The water was a dark and quiet glass. The moon sat in the middle of it. The cloud unicorn looked down at the water. Nino looked too. There were two of them in the pond. One small deer. One soft white unicorn. The water did not move at all.

"Hello down there," Nino whispered to the pond. His voice in the pond whispered back.

They walked on, slow and slow. Tiny bugs blinked green in the grass. They blinked on, then off, like little stars come down low. Nino yawned a small soft yawn. The cloud unicorn slowed its float to match him.

They came to a low warm hill. On the hill sat Otter, curled in the grass. Otter was small and round and damp. "I cannot find my cozy spot," said Otter, in a sleepy little voice. "I have looked and looked. The grass is all too cold tonight."

"Hush now," said Nino softly. "We will help you."

The cloud unicorn dipped its soft head. It breathed out a long warm cloud. The cloud settled down over Otter like a quilt. It was soft. It was warm. It smelled of rain and moon.

Otter gave a tiny happy sigh. "Oh," said Otter. "Oh, that is just right." Otter snuggled deep into the cloud. "Thank you, Nino. Thank you, cloud unicorn." And Otter's eyes were closing already, slow and heavy and warm.

"Sleep well," Nino whispered. "Sleep well, little Otter."

Otter was already dreaming. The cloud quilt rose and fell, soft and slow, with each sleepy breath. Nino smiled. His friend was warm now. His friend was safe. That was a good and gentle thing.

The cloud unicorn turned, slow and kind. It looked back toward Nino's nest. The way home was soft and short. The moon had moved a little, lower now. The night was growing late and still.

They walked back the way they came. The pond was quiet. The bugs blinked slow. Nino's steps grew small and soft. His legs felt warm. His eyes felt heavy. The cloud unicorn floated close beside him, slow and white and kind.

Nino yawned again, a long slow yawn. "I am sleepy now," he whispered.

"I know," the unicorn seemed to say. "Hush now. Almost home."

The grass grew soft under his feet. The nest of warm leaves came near. The leaves smelled of rain long gone. Nino stepped in, slow and glad. He curled down small in the warm.

The first stars came out, one by one. They blinked above him, slow and kind. The moon was low and round and pale. The whole world had grown quiet and dim.

The cloud unicorn floated above the nest. It looked down at Nino with its pale star eyes. It breathed out one last soft warm cloud. The cloud drifted down over Nino like a blanket. It was warm. It was soft. It smelled of moon.

"Goodnight, Nino," the unicorn seemed to say. Its voice was no voice at all. It was only the hush of the night.

Nino's eyes grew heavy and slow. He looked up one last time. The cloud unicorn was soft and white and far. It was drifting up to the moon. It would be there in the sky, every night, if Nino looked.

"Goodnight," Nino whispered. "Goodnight, cloud unicorn. Goodnight, stars. Goodnight, moon."

The stars blinked, slow and kind. The moon glowed soft and low. Nino breathed out, slow and warm. Hush, went his breath. Hush, hush.

His eyes closed. His small chest rose and fell. The cloud was warm around him. The night was soft and still.

Nino was dreaming now. He was floating up among the clouds. The cloud unicorn was there beside him, soft and white and kind. They drifted slow among the stars. There was nothing to do but rest.

Hush now, little deer. Hush now. The moon is watching over you. The stars are blinking soft and slow. Your cloud is warm. Your nest is safe.

Sleep, little Nino. Sleep and dream. Goodnight.