The sky dropped a single bright blue feather. Nuri snatched it from the grey snow.
He slid down an ice hill. He found a yellow stone near some sun patches.
Nuri tucked a red stone into his flipper pocket. He nodded with satisfaction.
A gust of wind whipped his scarf. It stole the last red stone away.
It tumbled into a dark crevasse. Nuri peered into the shadow.
He climbed down into the cold cave. The air was still and quiet.
He found the red stone glowing next to a sleeping moon-moth.
The moth woke up. It fluttered its wings, releasing silver sparkles.
The sparkles rose out of the cave. They carried the color back up.
Back on the ridge, Nuri watched the silver dust drift upward.
The dust painted the grey clouds in soft pinks and golds.
He pressed his cheek against the warm red stone. The world hummed quietly.
