The Yak Who Never Hurried

Chapter 1: When the Lamps Went Low

It was the kind of evening that arrives slowly. Outside, the sky had turned the colour of soft white and blue, and inside, ⟨Character 1⟩ had almost finished getting ready for bed.

There was ⟨Character 1⟩, a ⟨age⟩-year-old ⟨role⟩ who was born in ⟨birthplace⟩, now lives in ⟨home⟩, and loves ⟨favourite thing⟩. They yawned a yawn so wide that it seemed to pull the whole room a little closer to bedtime.

Something at the window was glowing: the pale blue glow of snow at night. And with it drifted snowflakes landing on snowflakes, patient as a lullaby.

⟨Character 1⟩ pressed a hand to the glass. It was cool and smelled, somehow, of wood smoke and cinnamon. Nobody said the word adventure, but it was in the room all the same.

Chapter 2: The Way to the Hush Mountain

And so a sledge pulled by a yak who never once hurried. ⟨Character 1⟩ went first, and the others followed, tucking blankets around their knees.

They floated past an eagle asleep on one leg. ⟨Character 1⟩ waved, and an eagle asleep on one leg seemed to wave back. A little later they passed a snow hare in a white coat, already fast asleep.

A shaggy mountain yak named Bumi was waiting for them at the Hush Mountain. "Hello, ⟨Character 1⟩," said Bumi, in a voice deep and warm, like a drum wrapped in wool. "Walk with me. Slowly, please."

"Are we far from home?" asked ⟨Character 1⟩. Bumi shook its head. "You are never far from home when you are this sleepy. Home comes with you."

Chapter 3: Someone Who Needed Finding

A little way into the Hush Mountain, they heard a sound that was not a sleeping sound. It was small and worried, and it came from behind a stone.

It was a little snow hare. It had hopped too far from its burrow and the snow had covered its tracks. ⟨Character 1⟩ knelt down so as not to seem too tall, and said, "Hello. We can help, if you like."

It did not take long. Around a bend, under the pale blue glow of snow at night, they found the place a little snow hare had been looking for. "Thank you," it said, and it meant it twice.

Bumi nodded slowly. "Kindness is the quietest magic," it said, "and it works best after dark." ⟨Character 1⟩ thought about that for a long time.

Chapter 4: Counting Soft Things

"Let's rest here," said Bumi, and they did. The ground was soft and the air smelled of wood smoke and cinnamon.

"Count with me," said Bumi. "Not sheep. Soft things." So ⟨Character 1⟩ counted. A marmot peeking from a warm burrow. A pillow. A yawn. The number after that was sleep.

Chapter 5: What Bumi Knew

"Here," said Bumi, and nothing more. They had reached the place that the Hush Mountain keeps for the end of the night.

⟨Character 1⟩ saw it first: a lantern that burned without fire and never grew cold. "Is it for us?" they asked. "It is for anyone who is quiet enough to find it," said Bumi.

They sat with it for a while. Around them the snow kept falling, one flake and then another, one flake and then another. Nobody wanted to be anywhere else, and nobody had to be.

Chapter 6: Back to the Pillow

The journey back was even slower than the journey there. Bumi walked them to the edge of the Hush Mountain and waited until a sledge pulled by a yak who never once hurried.

⟨Character 1⟩ leaned against the side and watched the pale blue glow of snow at night grow small. Their breathing slowed. In, and out. In, and out.

And then they were home, in ⟨home⟩, in their own beds, with the window closed and the room smelling faintly of wood smoke and cinnamon. Had they gone anywhere at all? The pillow knew, and did not say.

The snow kept falling, one flake and then another, one flake and then another. And ⟨Character 1⟩ slept. And slept. And slept. Goodnight.