“Achoo!” Pigúiça sneezed so hard that the blanket jumped off her bed.
Her nose was stuffy, her snout was warm, and her eyes felt heavy. She tried to get up to play, but her legs felt made of jelly. She plopped back down, with a long sigh.
Fofuxo came over, touched his nose to her forehead, and went “hmm.” “You're too warm, Pigúiça. Today is a day for resting.” “Resting? I don't want to rest! There's the meadow, there's Bolota, there's...” “Achoo!”
Fofuxo smiled and carried the blanket outside, under a tree, because Pigúiça wouldn't be able to stand being stuck indoors. He spread the blanket on the grass, and she snuggled into it, with him lying very close. A little bee landed on her head and stayed, like a visitor.
“I can't play,” grumbled Pigúiça. “And the day is so pretty.”
“Your body is working,” said Fofuxo. “It's fighting the cold, and that takes effort. Resting is helping, too.” “What kind of job is it if I can't even see it?” “What happens on the inside. There's a tiny crew in there that tidies everything up, but it can only work when we stay still.”
Pigúiça looked down at her tummy, suspicious. A tiny crew? In there? She stayed very still, just so she wouldn't get in their way.
That was when Mrs. Longneck, the big diplodocus, appeared in the meadow. She lowered her long, long neck until her head was close to Pigúiça. “I brought mint tea,” she said, slowly. “And a story.”
The tea was warm and smelled like a garden. Pigúiça drank it and felt her nose open up a little. Mrs. Longneck began the story, in her deep, slow voice: “There was once a cloud that decided to walk more slowly than all the other clouds...”
The little bee buzzed softly, as if she wanted to listen too. The wind stirred the grass, very gently. And the cloud in the story walked on, slowly, slowly, very slowly...
When Pigúiça realized it, the sun was already golden and low in the sky. “Did the cloud get where it wanted to go?” she asked, her eyes almost closed. “It did,” said Mrs. Longneck. “But you fell asleep before the end.”
She had slept the whole afternoon. Her nose was still a little stuffy, and the cough still showed up now and then. But her head felt lighter, and her legs were legs again, not jelly.
They walked home slowly, with the blanket on Fofuxo's back. At night, Pigúiça lay down in her bed and breathed, one breath at a time. In. Out. The tiny crew inside kept working, gently, without making any noise.
And Pigúiça drifted off, cozy and warm, listening to her own breathing grow calmer and calmer.
