Noor and the Soft, Soft Dark

Noor's ears went up. Shhh. What was that? Noor was a puppy, small and round, with ears like two soft leaves. She lay in her basket on the cloud hill, and the dark was all around her.

Ravi sat right beside her. Ravi was a big sheep made of soft mist, and her wool went up and down when she breathed. "Shhh," said Ravi. "That's the dark talking. It says shhh."

"I don't like the dark," said Noor. "It's too big. I want the moon." She hugged her cuddly lamb. "The moon is coming," said Ravi. "It comes up slow, from under the clouds. We have to wait." Noor did not like waiting one bit.

Ravi pulled the blanket up to Noor's chin. It smelled of fresh laundry and warm milk. "Say it with me," said Ravi. "Shhh, shhh, the night is soft." Noor said it too. "Shhh, shhh, the night is soft."

They waited. Noor wiggled. Noor huffed. Noor rolled over twice. "Is the moon here yet?" "Not yet," said Ravi. "Look up. What do you see?"

Noor looked up. One small star. Then two stars. Then lots of stars, like little crumbs of light stuck on the sky. "Oh," said Noor. "The dark has lights in it." "Shhh, shhh, the night is soft," they said together.

Noor tried to wait. She counted her toes. One, two, three, four. Then she counted them again. "Waiting is slow," she said. "It is," said Ravi. "So we find good things to do while we wait."

"The dark is too big," said Noor. "It's bigger than me." "It is big," said Ravi. "Big like a blanket. A big, soft blanket over all the hills." Noor thought about that. A blanket. That was a nice thing to think about.

"Is the dark friendly?" asked Noor. "It is," said Ravi. "It's the friendliest thing there is. It brings the stars out. It brings the moon up. It tucks the whole world in."

Noor sniffed the blanket. Warm. She listened to the cloud hills. They whispered shhh. The basket creaked, slow and low. Creeeak. It sounded like a little song. Noor yawned a small puppy yawn. Ravi yawned a big sheep yawn.

A soft wind rocked the basket, just a little. Creak, creak. Noor put one paw on Ravi's wool. It went up and down, up and down, like a slow, sleepy swing.

"Is the moon here yet?" asked Noor. "Almost," said Ravi. "Watch the clouds." Noor watched. The clouds turned silver at the edges. Then, pop! A round white light pushed up through the clouds from below. Pop, pop! The moon.

"The moon takes its time," said Ravi. "That's how it gets so round."

"It's here!" said Noor. The moon shone up through the soft clouds, and the dark turned blue and gentle, like a blanket with lights in it. "Shhh, shhh, the night is soft," said Noor, all by herself.

Ravi smiled, and her misty wool went up and down. "The dark is full of gentle things," she said. "Stars to count. A basket that sings. A blanket that smells like home. And the moon, slow and round and kind."

Noor's eyes grew heavy. She thought about her warm bath and the soft pop of the bubbles. She thought about her milk. She pulled her cuddly lamb close. "Ravi?" she whispered. "Yes, little one?" "The dark is soft."

"It is," said Ravi. "Soft as a blanket." Noor waved one small paw at the sky. "Goodnight, stars. Goodnight, moon. Goodnight, soft dark."

The moon glowed up through the clouds, round and slow and kind. The basket creaked once, soft and low. Shhh, said the night. Shhh. And Noor the puppy slept, warm in her blanket, in the soft, soft dark.