It was a golden afternoon and the children had spread a checkered blanket on the garden grass. On the blanket there were slices of bread with jam, a jug of pear juice and four red apples. Ziggy bit into his apple with a happy crunch. Lily was cutting her bread into neat little squares. Dash was chasing a white butterfly, running in zigzags. Skye was watching the sky with her head resting on the cushion.

"Look," said Skye, pointing up. "There's already a star, even though it isn't evening yet."

Everyone stopped eating. Indeed, among the pink afternoon clouds, a tiny star was shining with a shy, trembling light.

"It looks sleepy," said Lily.

"It looks tired," whispered Skye. "Like when I can't stay awake in my Daddy Andrew's arms."

Dash came running over, his butterfly already gone. "But do stars really get tired?"

"Maybe they do," said Ziggy. "Maybe they need a hug too."

At that moment, from the hedge at the bottom of the garden, came a sound the children knew well.

CHUFFFF CHUFFFF.

CHUFFFF CHUFFFF.

Out came Toby the Magic Train, painted in red and gold, with his smokestack puffing little heart-shaped clouds. He stopped in front of the snack blanket, opened the window, smiled with his wooden mouth and sang:

"Good afternoon, my little friends so dear,
today we'll fly up high, with smiles and cheer!
Up in the clouds, where soft, sweet blossoms grow,
someone awaits the gentle breath you'll blow!"

Skye squeezed Lily's hand. Ziggy gave a little hop of joy. Dash climbed in first, then the others, and Toby closed the window again. CHUFFFF CHUFFFF. The wheels turned and suddenly the little train lifted off the ground like a balloon. He climbed past the roof, past the garden pines, past the first cloud. And he stopped.

He stopped inside a garden. But not just any garden.

The children climbed down barefoot, because Toby had said, in a whispered rhyme, that there the clouds were like soft meadows you could walk on without shoes. Meadows are big fields, you know, very wide fields. And so it was. The cloud beneath their feet was like clean sheep's wool, soft and warm.

In front of them, very tall flowers were breathing scents that made their mouths water: the smell of toasted almond, the smell of sticky honey, the smell of fresh lily-of-the-valley. The trees had roots of white cotton that hung down along the clouds like wisps of fog. And on the highest branches, very close, you could see the sky where the stars slept.

"This is the Garden of Scented Clouds," said a calm voice behind them.

The children turned around. In front of them was a big kite of golden and blue paper, with two kind eyes painted on the upper part. He had a tail of colored ribbons that sparkled in the wind and a very long thread, all unrolled on the cloud-grass.

"I am Thread the Kite," he said, in a voice that smiled all by itself. "Welcome to my garden."

He smelled of old paper and powdered sugar. A little like Grandpa's bookshelf, a little like fresh-baked cookies. He moved without hurry, making small circles in the air.

"Ah, the stars I have seen..." he sighed. And from the sigh came tiny sparkles that fell down like golden snow.

Dash tried to catch one. It melted in the palm of his hand like a sugar candy.

"Children," said Thread the Kite, "I really need you. You see, every evening, the stars in the sky must be woken up. They, on their own, don't know when it's time to light up. You must blow on them with a sweet breath, and then they wake up and shine all night long."

"But who usually wakes them up?" asked Lily.

"I wake them up," answered Thread the Kite. "But tonight I need more special breaths. I need four children's breaths. And I also need a little courage."

Skye looked at the others. "What do we have to do?"

Thread the Kite floated close to the Great Cotton Tree, the tallest tree in the garden, with branches that touched the sky. "Each star is waiting on a leaf. You climb up, puff your cheeks, and blow."

The children climbed onto the lowest branches, soft as hammocks. Ziggy was the first. He came near a sleepy little star, puffed up his cheeks until he looked like a balloon, and blew. PUFFFF.

The star lit up at once, like a candle in reverse: instead of going out, it was waking up.

"My turn!" said Dash. He climbed one branch higher, blew, and another star bloomed with light.

Lily, determined, chose the smallest star she could see and blew on it with a thin, careful breath. That one too lit up, and trembled with happiness.

Skye blew on her star with a very gentle breath, like the one her Mommy Lisa makes when she tells her the whispered stories. The star lit up in a soft yellow, butter-colored.

One after another, the stars were lighting up and the sky was filling with light. They all laughed, holding their tummies because of the tickle of happiness.

But then Thread the Kite turned serious.

"One is missing," he said slowly. "The lowest one. The one on the branch closest to the cloud-meadow."

The children looked. On a low branch of the Great Cotton Tree, there was a dull, very tiny star, that wasn't shining. And right on that branch, curled up among the cloud leaves, there was a little bird with blue feathers. His chest rose and fell quickly, like when you're afraid.

"That is Pip," said Thread the Kite, with a voice even softer. "He has lived there for a long time. Ever since he fell, once, and no one came to catch him. Since then he doesn't fly anymore."

Skye felt a lump in her throat. She came close to the low branch without making a sound, because she had learned from her Mommy Lisa that sometimes words must be said with the small voice, the one from the evening before sleep.

"Hello, Pip," whispered Skye, sitting down beside the little bird. "I'm Skye."

Pip didn't answer. He was trembling.

"I get scared too sometimes," Skye continued. "When my Daddy Andrew picks me up and lifts me high, high up, I get scared. But then he tells me: falling is not so bad. Because I'm here, down below, ready to catch you."

Pip finally lifted his beak. He had two shiny little black eyes.

"I fell once," he chirped slowly. "I opened my wings and then I closed them because I was scared. And I fell. And no one caught me. Since then I stay on the low branch."

Thread the Kite came closer, with his small slow circles. "The star above you will not light up except with a brave breath. That's how she's made. She waits for someone who has been afraid but tried anyway."

Pip shook his little head. "I cannot."

Skye looked at her friends, standing on the branches. Ziggy nodded, Lily made a small smile, Dash covered his mouth with his hands to leave the delicate moment alone.

"Wait," said Skye. "I'm coming over here next to you. So you're not alone."

She climbed onto the low branch. She sat down beside Pip. She placed a light hand on his back.

And right at that moment, a gust of scented breeze, stronger than the others, made the branch tremble. CRACK. The branch did not break, but it bent suddenly. Skye slipped.

"Skye!" shouted Ziggy, Lily and Dash.

Pip, without thinking, without deciding, without time to be afraid, opened his wings. He opened them for the first time after a very long time. He tried to catch her, but he was too small.

Skye was falling.

Then Thread the Kite stretched out his magic thread, that very long, golden thread, and made it reach right under Skye's hand. Her fingers closed around the thread. She stopped suddenly, hanging in the air.

"I've got you," said Thread the Kite, calmly. "My thread remembers who you love. And it never lets anyone fall."

Skye took a deep breath. Her heart was beating like a little drum.

And at that moment, above them, something was happening.

Pip was in the air. His blue wings were moving. They were beating. He was holding himself up on the scented breeze. He was flying.

"Pip!" said Skye, with her voice still trembling. "Pip, look! You're flying!"

Pip looked down. He saw the cloud-meadow beneath him. He saw his friends. He saw Thread the Kite holding Skye with his thread. And he understood.

"I'm flying for you," he chirped.

"You opened your wings for me," said Skye, with a big smile. "You tried. That is what courage is."

Thread the Kite, with a gentle movement, brought Skye back onto the low branch, safe and sound. Skye hugged Ziggy, Lily and Dash who had run down.

Then Pip, still a little trembly, came close to the dull star. His breath was small, but he tried. He blew. PFFFFFF.

And the star lit up. It lit up brighter than all the others. It became the brightest in the sky, a glowing gold color that made you smile.

Everyone stood with their mouths open.

"Do you see?" said Thread the Kite to Pip, with a voice that smiled more than usual. "The star lit up because you tried. Family does not ask you to never fall. It only asks you to try. And when you try, family is right there below, ready to catch you."

Pip rested his little head on Skye's chest, and the children all sat around him. The sky was full of stars. The garden smelled of almond, honey and lily-of-the-valley. The golden light had turned to lilac, soft, of evening near.

CHUFFFF CHUFFFF. CHUFFFF CHUFFFF.

Toby the Magic Train had arrived on the cloud, ready to take them home. He opened the window, smiled with his wooden mouth, and sang:

"Who tries to fly is never all alone,
the love of family will guide them home.
And when a little star wakes up tonight,
a loving glow will fill your heart with light!"

The children climbed in. Pip stayed on the Great Cotton Tree, but he was no longer on the lowest branch: he had moved his blue feathers two branches higher, near his new star. And he waved with a wing.

Toby set off down through the clouds, and in a few moments the children were back on the checkered blanket in their garden at home. The stars, in the sky, were all shining together. And the lowest one, far away, was shining a little bit more.

Skye smiled. She leaned on the shoulder of her Daddy Andrew, who had just come out of the house to call them to dinner.

"Your eyes are shining," said Andrew softly.

"I saw a star light up," answered Skye.

And so she fell asleep, with her head on her Daddy's shoulder, while the light became night.