It was a cream-colored afternoon, one of those soft ones where the sky looked like a big woolly blanket. It wasn't raining, it wasn't snowing, there was no wind. The air smelled of warm bread and everything was quiet, as if the whole world had sat down in an armchair to rest.

Dash, Ziggy, Lily, and Skye were inside a very silly place: The Shop of Things That Roll. It was a room crammed full of curious things, from the floor all the way to the ceiling: balls of wool, copper pots, bundles of rags, jars, and very long scarves. And the best part was that in there everything, but really everything, wanted to roll.

"Look at this!" giggled Dash, who was as fast as a squirrel and never stood still. He gave a little push to a ball of wool as big as a pumpkin. The ball took off, rolled, bumped a big pot, the pot went "BONG," tipped over onto a bundle of rags, and in a flash half the shop was tumbling all over the place.

"Oh no!" laughed Lily, jumping onto a chair.

"Oh yes!" laughed Dash, who threw himself on the floor and started chasing the balls of wool, doing somersaults.

Skye, who was quiet and sweet, picked things up calmly. Ziggy, on the other hand, studied everything with wide-open eyes, because he loved to understand how things worked.

And it was right while everything was rolling that they heard that magical sound.

"CHOO-CHOO! CHOO-CHOO!"

Through the shop door, puffing happily, came Toby the Magic Train. He had shiny wheels and a happy little whistle. He stopped in front of the children and said:

"Choo-choo, dear children, come climb up with me!
I've something so special — just wait and you'll see:
a lighthouse at sea that is waiting to glow,
and a silly fun race — all aboard, here we go!"

The children clapped their hands and jumped aboard. Toby set off puffing, and meanwhile, outside, it began to snow. But a very soft, soft snow, with white flakes falling like feathers from a pillow.

The little train carried them all the way to a castle by the sea. It was a cozy castle, with round windows and a big lighthouse at the top of a tower. But the lighthouse was off. All dark.

Below, in the dark sea, little fishing boats drifted here and there, not knowing where to go.

"The little boats are lost," said Skye, in her sweet voice. "Without the lighthouse's light, they can't find their way home."

"We have to light that lighthouse!" said Lily, determined, clenching her fists.

They went into the castle. Inside there was a very tall spiral staircase, winding up like a great spiral all the way to the top of the tower. A hundred steps, maybe more. And on the wall, written in golden light, some words appeared:

"The light comes back to the one who climbs with their own pace, not with someone else's."

The children looked at the words without quite understanding them.

"It means we have to climb up," said Ziggy, scratching his head. "But... how?"

Right at that moment they heard a funny sound: "WHEEE!" A whistle.

From one of the steps popped out a little creature with a spiral shell, just like the staircase. It was a Snail. She wore a coach's whistle around her neck and smelled of fresh mint leaves. On the floor, behind her, she left a trail that sparkled like lots of little lights.

"Good evening, good evening, dear children!" said the Snail, and she began to talk, and talk, and talk. "I am the Wise Snail, I've lived on this staircase for ever so long, I know every step, every little corner, every tiny crack! I go slow, yes, ever so slow, but I always get where I want to go, and I never, ever, ever get lost, because I keep going steadily!"

"Stead... steadily?" asked Dash, with a puzzled face. "What is steadiness?"

"Ah, good question!" replied the Snail, pleased. "Steadiness means carrying on without ever stopping. One step, then another step, then another one more, even if you're tired, even if you're slow. Whoever has steadiness always gets there."

"Ooooh," went the children all together.

The Snail explained the race. To light the lighthouse again, they had to carry a little glowing ember all the way to the top, running up the spiral staircase. It was an obstacle relay: steps slippery with snow, pots lying across the way, hanging scarves, balls of wool rolling down. And Dash, who was fast and loved races, leaped forward right away.

"I'll take care of it!" he shouted. "I'm the fastest of all!"

"Go, Dash!" cheered his friends.

Dash picked up the ember with two fingers, held it out in front like a torch, and set off. But he had seen a great running champion on television who made giant leaps, and he wanted to do just like him.

"I'll do it like the champion!" he said. And he made a huge leap.

Too huge. His foot landed on a step wet with snow, slipped, and Dash went "WHOOOA!" flying backwards. He sat down straight inside a big pot, which took off and rolled down three steps going "BONG BONG BONG."

The children burst out laughing.

"It's nothing!" said Dash, climbing out of the pot with a saucepan on his head like a hat. "I'll try again!"

He set off again, still with the champion's giant leaps. But he stretched his leg too far and ended up straight inside a very long scarf, which wrapped him all up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. "Mmmpff!" went Dash, rolling like a little wool sausage.

His friends were laughing so hard that Lily had to hold her tummy and Skye had tears in her eyes from laughing.

Dash tried again. And again. He jumped like the champion, tripped, slipped, ended up with his legs in the air. Every time he came back down and had to start all over again. Meanwhile the Snail climbed up slowly, slowly, leaving her glowing trail that lit up the safest steps, and kept chatting: "Watch out for that step, it's wet! And that one too! And this other one as well, you know?"

In the end Dash stopped. He was tired, messy, with the saucepan crooked on his head. And for the first time he wasn't laughing anymore.

"I can't do it," he said quietly. "I'm not as good as the champion on television. His leaps are big, mine just make everything fall down."

Outside, the sea was getting darker and darker. The little boats drifted, lost, among the snowflakes. There was a moment of silence: even his friends stopped laughing, because the lighthouse wasn't lighting up and time was passing.

The Snail went "WHEEE!" with her whistle and came closer.

"Dash, Dash," she said sweetly, "why do you want to run like the champion? You are not the champion. You are Dash!"

"But he's so good," murmured Dash.

"And you are so good in your own way," replied the Snail. "Look at me: I'm slow, ever so slow. If I tried to jump like a frog, I'd fall down right away. But I always get to the top, you know why? Because I go at my own pace, not someone else's. Remember the words on the wall? The light comes back to the one who climbs with their own pace."

Dash looked at the steps. Then he looked at his fast little feet. And inside him something switched on, like a little light bulb.

"My own pace..." he said. "I don't jump big. I'm fast! Fast and... a little clumsy!"

"Exactly!" whistled the Snail. "Then run the way Dash runs!"

Dash took the ember back in his hand. He took a deep breath. And this time he didn't make the champion's giant leaps. He set off with his quick, quick little steps, zig-zagging, hopping here and there, dodging the pots with a twirl, slipping under the scarf by ducking down, bouncing on a ball of wool like on a cushion.

He was so silly. He ran crooked, waved his arms, made funny faces, but he didn't fall anymore. Because that was his way, and no one did it better than him.

"Go, Dash!" his friends shouted. "Run your own way!"

Up, up, up, spinning around the spiral staircase, following the Snail's glowing trail as she said: "This way, this way, well done, keep going!" Dash zoomed past the last steps, laughing his head off, reached the top of the tower and, with one last clumsy little hop, placed the ember inside the lighthouse's great lantern.

And the lighthouse lit up.

A warm, golden light burst into the snowy night and stretched out over the sea like a long, gentle arm. Together with the Snail's trail, it drew a shining road on the water. And the fishermen's little boats, at last, saw the way home and came back to shore, one after another, safe and happy.

The children hugged each other, jumping for joy. Skye had shiny eyes, but the happy kind. Lily stamped her feet. Ziggy laughed. And Dash, up there at the top, with the saucepan still on his head, gave a funny little bow like a real champion. His own champion. The one who runs his own way.

"You see?" said the Snail, arriving slowly, slowly at the last step. "You were super fast. Because you were yourself."

When they came down, outside the snow was almost over and Toby the Magic Train was waiting for them, warm and puffing. Everyone climbed aboard, tired and happy. And as the little train set off toward home, Toby said:

"Choo-choo, what laughter, what a wonderful night!
The boats found their way, and the lighthouse shines bright.
Remember, my Dash, speedy, silly, and true:
whoever runs their own way is a winner too!"

And so, between a laugh and a yawn, the four friends went back home, under a sky that had started to show its stars again.