“Tomorrow is my turn,” whispered Pigúiça, and her voice came out so tiny that Fofuxo had to lean his ear closer.
Every Friday, the pups of Dogavios sat in a circle under the Universal Tree to share something they liked. Bolota had talked about blackberry pie. Tico had talked about his hiding spot. Nina had sung a whole song. Now it was Pigúiça's turn.
She already knew what she would share: the little stone she found in the stream, which sang just one note. But every time she pictured the whole circle looking at her, her tummy did a somersault and her voice ran away.
“What happens when you think about the circle?” asked Fofuxo. “My eyes turn into two plates,” she said. “My mouth gets dry. And my voice goes to hide.”
Fofuxo smiled, his eyes very golden and calm. “Then let's take care of your voice. First, the breathing. Fill your tummy with air, like a balloon. Now let it out slowly, like blowing a feather so it won't fall.”
Pigúiça did it. Once, twice, three times. Her feather flew very far away. “And one more thing,” he went on. “You don't have to look at everyone. Pick one friend and tell it to them. The others will listen along for the ride.”
The next day, the circle formed under the tree, and the leaves up above swayed as if welcoming her. Pigúiça walked to the middle, with the little stone in her paw. When she opened her mouth... nothing. Only silence. Her voice had really gone into hiding.
She looked around, nearly running away. Then she saw Fofuxo, sitting at the end of the circle, with his golden eyes. He blinked slowly. She filled her tummy with air. She let it out, like a feather.
“I found a stone,” she said, just to him. Her voice came out thin, but it came out. “It sings one note.” “Louder!” asked Tico, with no meanness at all. She breathed again and repeated it, a little stronger.
Then she showed the stone. She blew gently on top, and the stone sang: “laaaa.” Everyone's mouth fell open. “Can I hold it?” asked Bolota. The stone passed from paw to paw, and each one sang “la” along with it, until the whole circle became a soft little song.
When it was over, a leaf from the Universal Tree fell right in front of Pigúiça, like applause. She had told the whole thing, from beginning to end, even with her voice shaking at the start.
“My voice shook,” she told Fofuxo, on the way home. “It shook, but it kept going,” he answered. “That's what courage is: speaking with a shaky voice.”
That night, Pigúiça left the little stone on the windowsill. Every now and then, the wind passed by and the stone sang its “la,” very gently. Pigúiça smiled with her eyes closed, and the note drifted farther and farther away, until it turned into sleep.
