In the Land of Suspended Time, where clocks had feathered wings and seconds danced like autumn leaves in the wind, lived Elena. She had golden braids that bounced with every step like two shiny springs. Her pockets were always bulging with curious treasures: a button that glowed like a firefly, a wooden spoon carved into the shape of a dragon, and a handkerchief that forever smelled of warm apple pie straight from the oven.

One morning, while the sky was streaked with pink and orange—as if a giant had spread his favorite peach jam across the horizon—Elena heard a tiny sniff. It was a minuscule sound, like a kitten sneezing in a field of clover. She stopped dead, her green rubber boots making a rhythmic squelch in the damp grass. The scent of morning dew tickled her nose, fresh and sweet, like leaning into a giant bouquet of wildflowers.

"Who’s there?" she asked, leaning toward a bush of blue berries, which looked as soft and inviting as melting candy.

That’s when she saw him: a little cloud, no bigger than a birthday balloon, snagged in the thorny branches. He looked terribly sad, his edges shivering like wobbly jelly. Elena reached out her hand, but the cloud recoiled with a soft poof, clearly frightened. A scent of burnt cotton candy wafted from him, sweet yet slightly sharp.

"Oh dear," Elena whispered, scratching her chin. "You’re lost, aren't you?"

The little cloud gave a timid nod, letting out a single tear that landed right on Elena’s nose. Plop! It prickled like fizzy soda water. Elena burst into a giggle and wiped her nose with her apple-pie-scented handkerchief.

"Don't worry, I’ll help you! But first, tell me how you ended up down here. Clouds usually float way above the trees, right?"

The little cloud puffed out his cheeks and began to tell his story in a wobbling voice, sounding like a brook rippling over smooth stones. His name was Flop, and he had been whisked away by a prankster gust of wind while playing hide-and-seek with his cloud brothers and sisters. The wind had tossed him around like a stray leaf—frou-frou—until he tumbled into this prickly bush. The branches were as rough as sandpaper, and poor Flop was stuck tight.

"Poor thing!" Elena exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Well, I’m going to get you out, but we have to be clever. If I pull you, you might tear, and if I shake the bush, you’ll be scared. Wait, I have an idea!"

She rummaged through her pocket and pulled out her dragon-carved wooden spoon. She slid it gently under Flop, like a cake server under a slice of lemon tart. Hop! Flop found himself perched on the spoon, trembling. Elena lifted him with great care, but Flop started wiggling like a fish out of water. Flop! Flop!

"Oops, sorry!" Elena laughed. "I guess I’m not very good at carrying clouds yet."

She settled Flop onto her shoulder, where he clung like a kitten to a tree branch. He was incredibly soft, like warm cotton candy, and Elena could feel his tiny heart beating against her cheek—boom-boom—like a miniature drum.

"Now, we have to get you home. But where exactly do clouds live?"

Flop pointed a misty little finger toward the sky, where his siblings were shifting into funny shapes: a rabbit, a castle, and a giant teapot. Elena squinted.

"Right, but how do we get up there? I don't have a ladder, and I certainly can't fly."

Flop thought for a moment, then sparked an idea. He began to blow gently on Elena’s face, like a warm summer breeze. Fffff! Elena felt her feet lift off the ground. Oh! She was floating! Her braids stood up like two golden antennas, and she shrieked with laughter, waving her arms.

"Wow! It’s magic!"

Flop guided her by blowing harder or softer, as if he were playing a flute made of wind. Vroom! They soared higher and higher until the ground below looked like nothing more than a patchwork quilt of green and brown. The air was cool and smelled of rain that hadn't fallen yet—a clean, metallic scent.

Suddenly, a massive white cloud, as big as a palace, appeared before them. He had a great cotton beard and mischievous eyes.

"Papa!" Flop cried, rushing toward him.

The great cloud wrapped Flop in his misty arms, and Elena heard a glug-glug of pure happiness, like someone sipping hot chocolate through a straw. The Papa Cloud turned to Elena, his voice echoing like distant thunder—soft, deep, and reassuring.

"Thank you, little human, for bringing my little one back. How can I reward you?"

Elena thought for a second, then smiled. "Well, if you could make it rain just a tiny bit on my garden, that would be wonderful! My carrots are very thirsty."

The Papa Cloud let out a roar of laughter that rolled like waves on a beach. Ha ha ha! "Of course, little gardener." He sent a light, warm drizzle down toward Elena’s house, a fine mist that smelled of wet earth and happy worms. Ploc-ploc-ploc!

Flop gave Elena one last wave before disappearing into the sky with his father. Elena floated down gently, like a falling leaf, landing right in her garden. Her carrots were dancing under the rain, and Elena felt a warmth in her heart, as if she had swallowed a ray of sunshine.

That evening, as she snuggled under her blanket—which was almost as soft as a cloud—she heard a little poof at her window. It was Flop! He had brought her a gift: a tiny falling star, still warm to the touch, glowing like a diamond. She placed it on her nightstand, and the star winked at her softly. Elena fell asleep smiling, with the sound of the wind, the scent of the rain, and the softness of Flop against her cheek in her dreams.