It was one of those evenings when the sky turned orange and then purple, like when someone spills colors inside a glass of water. In the garden at home, Dash was clapping his hands on his knees and stomping his feet on the grass, one after the other, faster and faster.

"Listen to this!" he shouted, and he made a beat so fast with his hands that he sounded like a woodpecker knocking on a tree trunk.

Ziggy burst out laughing and tried to copy him, but his hands went one way and his feet went another. Lily put her hands on her hips and said: "I can do a better one!" and she clapped three slow beats and one super fast one, like thunder that comes after lightning. Skye, sitting on the grass with her legs crossed, was clapping her hands gently, following her own quiet rhythm, and smiling.

A cheeky little breeze came and messed up everyone's hair. The leaves from the big tree broke off and flew in circles, as if they wanted to dance too. The wind whistled through the branches, and for a moment it seemed like it was singing along with the children.

That was the very moment when they heard a faraway sound.

"Toby!" yelled Dash, and he ran to the garden gate so fast he almost tripped over the watering can.

Federico, Dash's dad, poked his head out of the window: "Dash, watch where you step!"

But Dash was already there. Toby the Magic Train popped out from behind the hedge, with his tracks shining like silver threads. But something was strange. Usually Toby whistled a happy tune, but this time his whistle stopped halfway, like a song that someone had forgotten to finish.

Toby stopped in front of the children and said:

"Hello children, what a lovely night!
A song has vanished out of sight!
Climb aboard, I'll take you high,
where music faded from the sky!"

The four children looked at each other. A lost song? Where music faded from the sky? They all climbed onto Toby, one after the other. Dash first, then Ziggy who jumped on with a somersault, then Lily who climbed up with determination, and finally Skye, who sat down comfortably and leaned against the edge of the little carriage.

Toby set off. The tracks lit up and the little train began to climb. But it wasn't climbing up a hill. It was climbing straight up into the sky. They passed through the low clouds, the soft gray ones, then the pink evening ones, and finally they arrived above all the clouds in the world, at the very highest point of the sky. In front of them was the Cloud of Little Lights.

It was enormous. White and soft like whipped cream. And all over its surface, tiny little lights were shining, like stars that someone had placed on top of the cream. When the little train stopped and the children got off, their feet sank into the cloud, as soft as a giant pillow.

"Oh!" whispered Skye, and she stroked the surface of the cloud with her hand. Where her fingers touched, a little cloud firefly lit up with a soft , like the sound of a tiny bell.

"Look!" said Ziggy, and he started running along a path of blue mist. With every step, the path made a different sound: . And the little puddles of dew that sparkled on the sides tinkled like tiny crystal glasses.

"It's like walking inside a song!" said Lily, amazed.

But something was wrong. The sounds were weak, almost gone. The fireflies were barely glowing. And in the big center of the cloud, where you could see a sort of soft round bed, there was nobody. It was empty and dark. "This is where the moon should sleep," said a voice.

The children turned around. From behind a little golden cloud came a magnificent bird. It was as big as a swan, with feathers all golden that shone as if they were made of sunset light. It walked with a slow and elegant step, as if it were walking down a red carpet. It stopped in front of a puddle of dew and looked at its reflection, turning its head first one way and then the other.

"I am Fiammetta," she said, and she spread her wings wide open. The golden feathers glowed and in the air you could hear a beautiful melody, as if a whole orchestra were playing inside her feathers. It smelled of warm honey and cinnamon, and that smell reached every child's nose.

"Ohhh," they all said together.

Fiammetta looked very pleased. She closed her wings and opened them again, making another melody, even more beautiful.

"The moon has gone away," explained Fiammetta, smoothing a feather with her beak. "And without her this cloud is going dark. But don't worry! I have been singing in her place. I sang the most beautiful melody in the whole sky!" And she spread her wings with a grand gesture.

"And did it work?" asked Lily, crossing her arms.

Fiammetta lowered her wings a little. "Well... no. But only because I haven't found the right melody yet. I know thousands! Watch!" And she began opening and closing her wings, and each time a different music came out: a sweet one, a cheerful one, a majestic one, one that sounded like the sea.

Every melody was beautiful. But the fireflies didn't light up. The path stayed silent. The puddles didn't tinkle.

"I don't understand," said Fiammetta, and for the first time her wings drooped a little. "I make the most beautiful music. Why doesn't it work?" Dash looked toward the empty center of the cloud, then looked further away, where there was a little gray cloud all alone, far from all the others. There was something over there. A sound so small you had to hold your breath to hear it.

"I'm going to look," said Dash, and he started walking.

"Dash, be careful!" said Ziggy.

"I'm coming with you," said Lily with determination.

But Dash had already gone ahead, with that quick step of his. As he walked, the cloud under his feet became more and more gray and silent. The fireflies were all dark. The paths made no sound anymore. It was like walking in a world that had forgotten music.

And then he saw her.

Behind the little gray cloud, curled up on herself, was the moon. But she wasn't the big round moon you see from your window at night. She was small, like a glowing ball, and her light was dim, almost invisible. She was trembling softly.

"Hello," said Dash, and he sat down next to her.

The moon looked at him with big sad eyes. "You can hear me?" she asked in a tiny little voice.

"Yes," said Dash. "You were making a sound before. A very small one."

"That was my song," whispered the moon. "But it's a silly song. It's always the same three notes. Maybe four. Did you hear Fiammetta? She makes beautiful music, different every time. I always make the same little tune. The same one. Nobody cares about three notes that are always the same."

At that moment Ziggy, Lily, and Skye arrived too. They stayed quiet, listening.

"That's why I hid," the moon continued. "Nobody even notices if I'm gone."

"But the cloud is going dark!" said Ziggy.

"The sounds are going away," added Lily.

The moon lowered her head. "I know. But I can't do any better. I don't have golden wings. I don't have a thousand melodies. I only have three notes."

Right at that moment, one of the last fireflies still glowing, far away, went dark. And with it, its little "ding" disappeared too. The cloud was almost completely silent.

Fiammetta came flying in and landed with a dramatic gesture. "Let me try! This time I'll sing even louder!" She opened her enormous wings and out came a powerful symphony, full of sounds and colors. It was magnificent.

But nothing happened. Not even one firefly lit up.

Fiammetta closed her wings, heartbroken. For the first time she didn't even look at her reflection in the puddle.

The silence was total. The cloud was becoming see-through at the edges, as if it were disappearing. Dash moved even closer to the moon and said to her, with his cheerful voice: "Will you sing it for me? Your little song. Just for me. I want to hear it."

The moon looked at him, surprised. "Really? But it's always the same..."

"That doesn't matter. Sing it for me."

The moon hesitated. Then, with a trembling little voice, she sang. Three notes. Maybe four. A melody as simple as the sound of a drop falling into a puddle. Nothing spectacular. Nothing grand.

But one firefly, the closest one, lit up. And then another one. A nearby path went , as if it had just woken up.

Dash smiled and clapped his hands to the rhythm, following those three notes. Ziggy started stomping his feet. Lily clapped three slow beats and one fast one, just like in the garden. Skye clapped her hands with her calm and gentle rhythm.

The moon sang a little louder. The fireflies lit up in clusters. The puddles tinkled. The paths rustled. The whole cloud started to play again, all together, like an instrument waking up.

It wasn't the most beautiful song in the sky. It was the right song. The moon rose up, slowly, and went back to her place in the big soft center of the cloud. Her light came back full and warm, and all around her the fireflies danced and played their happy little "dings."

Fiammetta watched the scene in silence. Then she walked over to Dash. Her wings were lowered, but not from sadness. From something new.

"I understand now," she said, and her voice was gentle, with no more vanity. "I was looking for the most beautiful melody. But what was needed was the truest one." She pulled from her neck the little silver feather, the only one that wasn't golden, the one she always said was the least important. "This is my simplest note. Keep it, you who know how to listen."

Dash took the silver feather. It was light as a breath and it glowed with a calm light, like the moon. Toby the Magic Train came along a misty path that was now singing with every wheel. The children climbed aboard, with the silver feather held tight in Dash's hand.

Before setting off, Toby said:

"You don't need the loudest voice around,
just one small note that's truly found.
Three little notes, sung from the heart,
lit up the sky and made it start!"

The little train came down from the sky, passing through the pink clouds and then the gray ones, all the way back to the garden at home. The children got off and ran inside.

Cristina, Dash's mom, gave him a hug. "How was the adventure?"

"Mom, the moon has a song with only three notes!" said Dash. "And it's the most important song of all!"

That evening, when Dash was already in his little bed with the blanket pulled up to his chin, he heard something from the open window. A melody. Three notes, maybe four. Simple as a drop falling. But perfect.

Dash smiled, tucked the silver feather under his pillow, and closed his eyes.

And on the Cloud of Little Lights, way up high, above all the clouds in the world, the moon was singing. And all around her, thousands of fireflies went "ding."