It was a spring morning, and Ziggy was drawing on the path with colored chalk. With him were Lily, Skye, and Dash, each bent over their own drawing. Sofia, the little black cat, was purring asleep near Ziggy's knee. Dora, the brave tabby cat, watched the wall like a sentry. Poldo, fat and round, was dozing in the sun. Milo, his nimble brother, hopped over the stones chasing a butterfly.

"I'm drawing a green dragon!" said Dash, laughing.
"I'm drawing a princess with purple hair," whispered Lily, careful not to go over the lines.
"I'm making a yellow mountain," said Skye, quietly.
Ziggy looked at his paper and smiled: "I'm making a red train, one of those super fast ones!"

Just then, a playful little wind arrived. It wasn't a strong wind, no: it was naughty, it tickled their noses and tousled their hair. The wind lifted a leaf, then another, then blew under the children's papers and carried them up into the air.

"My drawings!" shouted Dash, running.

The papers flew in circles, danced, giggled in the air. Then they zoomed away, down the alley, until they slipped through the half-open door of an old shop.

It was Grandpa Paintbrush's shop. The children knew it well: it had a window facing an alley where a sweet-smelling wisteria grew. Inside there were wooden toys, paintbrushes hanging from the ceiling like friendly bats, and dusty little jars on the shelves.

The four children tiptoed inside. The cats followed silently.

"Grandpa Paintbrush?" called Ziggy. No one answered. There was a note on the counter: "I went to buy bread, I'll be back soon."

But something was strange. Very strange.

"Look," whispered Skye, pointing around.

Everything was grey.

The little wooden horses: grey. The dolls with their bows: grey. The trains, the drums, the little paint jars: grey. Even the wisteria outside the window seemed to have lost its color.

"But what happened?" asked Lily, in a tiny voice.

Just then, a tiny sound was heard: tic-tic-tic.

From a crack in the wall came a little tail, then a little head, then a tiny lizard. He had a blue tail, with something pink tucked inside, and he moved in zigzags, stopping suddenly and starting again as if he were dancing.

He scampered toward Ziggy and climbed onto his shoulder. The cats pricked up their ears but stayed sitting, because they understood right away that he wasn't a creature to chase.

The lizard came close to Ziggy's ear and whispered: "My name is Pippo. Pippo Bluetail."

"Pippo!" laughed Ziggy. "You smell like lemon cookies!"

"I live near Grandpa's cookie jar," whispered Pippo. "And I know what happened here."

"What? What?" they all asked together.

Pippo tapped his little tail three times on the wall: tic-tic-tic. "The colors have hidden away. And I know where."

"Where are they?" asked Skye, with her big eyes.

"In four different places. One in the field, one by the lake, one among the lemons, one at the market. We have to go call them before twilight."

The children looked at each other, puzzled.

"What does twilight mean?" asked Dash, scratching his head.

Pippo smiled. "Twilight is when the sun turns pink and goes to sleep. You say it like this: twi-light. A word that sounds like a little cloud."

"Twilight!" they all repeated, laughing.

But how could they get to four different places before twilight?

Just at that moment, from the alley, a whistle was heard.

CHOO CHOO!

It was Toby the Magic Train, who stopped in front of the shop puffing out smoke shaped like a heart.

"Hello, dear children, hop onto the train,
Today we'll go searching through sunshine and rain!
Something so lovely is hiding away,
We'll find it together — let's go, hooray!"

The children clapped their hands. Then they all climbed onto the train: Ziggy first, then Lily, Skye, and Dash. Sofia climbed onto Ziggy's lap, Dora perched on the roof like a sentry, Poldo squeezed under a seat, and Milo jumped nimbly into the last car. Pippo hid in Ziggy's pocket, and now and then he peeked out.

CHOO CHOO!

The little train set off.

The first stop was a big strawberry field. All red, shiny, and sweet-smelling. They looked like little hearts scattered on the grass.

"We need to catch the red!" whispered Pippo. "But don't pick the strawberries. We have to catch their sparkle."

The children looked at each other, confused. How do you catch a sparkle?

Then, all of a sudden, the playful little wind came back. It blew over the strawberries and made them tremble like tiny bells.

Ziggy, who was super fast, started to run among the strawberries. He ran and ran, and with his hands outstretched he caught the wind that carried their red scent. "I got it! I caught the red!" he shouted, laughing, and he came back with his hands cupped together, as if he held a treasure inside.

Pippo handed him an empty little jar, and Ziggy poured the red wind into it. The little jar turned strawberry-red right away.

"Well done, Ziggy, you run like lightning!" said Skye, clapping her hands.

They climbed back onto the train.

CHOO CHOO!

The second stop was a small, round lake, where sunset was about to arrive. The sky over the lake was already orange, that warm orange that looks like carrot soup.

"We need to catch the orange!" whispered Pippo. Tic-tic-tic.

But the orange was up high, at the top of a tall pine tree, where a sunbeam had gotten tangled in the branches.

Lily looked up. She said nothing. She rolled up her sleeves, spit on her hands like a real climber, and started to climb. One branch, two branches, three branches. The bark scratched her knees, but she didn't give up. She was as tough as a little squirrel. Dora, the brave tabby cat, climbed beside her, meowing to give her courage.

When she reached the top, Lily stretched the little jar toward the orange sunbeam and filled it. Then she climbed down, smiling.

"Well done, Lily, you climbed like a real little goat!" laughed Dash.

They climbed back onto the train.

CHOO CHOO!

The third stop was a lemon garden. There were trees full of yellow, round lemons swinging like tiny lanterns. But there was a problem: hiding among the leaves was the most beautiful yellow, the yellow of the real sun, and nobody could see it.

"We need to catch the yellow," whispered Pippo. "But it's hidden. We have to look carefully."

Ziggy looked, Dash looked, Lily looked. Nothing. Just lemons and leaves and more leaves.

Skye sat down on the grass. She didn't run, didn't climb, didn't jump. She stopped, took a breath, and looked carefully, like a good observer. She had learned how to really look when she fell asleep in Daddy Andrew's arms, because before closing her eyes she always looked at the ceiling as if it were a sky.

After a little while, she smiled. "There," she said, pointing at a leaf. "Behind that leaf."

Everyone ran to see. It was true: behind the leaf was a tiny ray of bright yellow, hiding so it wouldn't be found. Skye picked it up gently and put it in the little jar. The yellow let itself be caught with a smile.

"Well done, Skye, you see what others don't see!" said Ziggy, hugging her.

They climbed back onto the train.

CHOO CHOO!

The fourth stop was a little market full of purple balloons. There were hundreds of them, tied to colorful strings, swaying in the wind like a giant cloud. They were so high that they seemed to touch the sky.

"We need to catch the purple," whispered Pippo. Tic-tic-tic.

But the balloons were too high for Ziggy, too high for Lily, too high for Skye.

So Dash started jumping. He jumped so much, but in such a silly way, legs in the air and arms dancing, that all the people at the market stopped to look. And he laughed. He laughed so loud.

And when the people laughed, the balloons laughed too. And as they laughed, they came down a little, as if they wanted to join the party too.

Milo, the nimble cat, made a lightning-fast jump together with Dash, and together they caught the purple from a balloon with a gentle puff. They put it in the little jar.

"Well done, Dash, you make us laugh like nobody else!" said Lily.

They climbed back onto the train with the four little jars full: red, orange, yellow, and purple. The sky was beginning to turn pink. Twilight was coming.

CHOO CHOO!

They got back to Grandpa Paintbrush's shop just in time. They lined up the four little jars on the counter. Pippo Bluetail jumped onto the table and, with his little tail, mixed the colors inside a bigger jar. He mixed and mixed, and the colors did a dance.

But just at that moment, the playful little wind came back. It blew hard, and... CRASH! The big jar fell off the table, knocked over. All the color spilled onto the floor, and the wind grabbed it, lifted it up, and made it fly everywhere.

"Noooo!" shouted Ziggy. "The wind is taking everything away!"

Lily covered her eyes. Dash stopped all at once. Skye clenched her hands tight. The cats huddled together.

For a moment, it seemed like everything was lost.

But then something magical happened.

The wind wasn't taking the colors away. It was spreading them. It was sharing them, one by one, on every toy in the shop.

The little wooden horse turned red. The dolls had their yellow bows back, their purple dresses, their orange shoes. The little trains shone. The drums played in color. And even the wisteria outside the window got back its sweet-smelling purple.

The shop was more colorful than before.

Pippo Bluetail smiled. "Did you see? The wind doesn't take away. The wind shares. Just like you."

The children looked at each other, still out of breath.

"What do you mean?" asked Ziggy.

Pippo came close to Ziggy's ear and whispered: "Each of you brought something different. You run fast. Lily climbs with strength. Skye sees where others don't look. Dash makes the whole world laugh. Alone, you were four talents. Together, you are a rainbow."

Tic-tic-tic.

Then Pippo took something out from his little tail: it wasn't the pink shell (that one he kept for himself, it was his home), but a small, soft feather, the color of sunset, found during the trip to the lake. He gave it as a gift to Ziggy.

"To remind you that each one has their own color," he whispered.

Just then, the sound of the door was heard. It was Grandpa Paintbrush, coming back with bread under his arm. He looked at his shop all full of color and started to laugh happily.

"Who made this masterpiece?" he asked.

The children laughed. "The wind, Grandpa! And a slightly special friend."

But Pippo had already disappeared into his crack, leaving only the smell of lemon cookies.

CHOO CHOO!

Toby the Magic Train had come back to pick them up. They climbed aboard to go home. Before leaving, Toby puffed out smoke shaped like a star and said:

"One special lesson today we have learned,
Each one of you children, a gift to be earned!
Some run, some jump, some look, and some climb,
Together you shine — and that's just fine!"

The children waved goodbye to Grandpa Paintbrush. Sofia, Dora, Poldo, and Milo followed them as always, in a line like a little velvet guard.

As the little train carried them home, the sky was exactly the color of Ziggy's feather: pink, orange, purple, sweet.

It was twilight.

Ziggy held the feather tight in his hand and smiled. He had learned a new word. And he had understood that each one of us, truly, knows how to do something special in their own way.