← Little Stories for Tiny People: Anytime and bedtime stories for kids
Little Stories for Tiny People: Anytime and bedtime stories for kids
Leon's Adventure in the Snow: A Story for Kids
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A Story for Kids
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- [00:09]
Rhea Pechter
This is Rhea. Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People. So I've decided I am going to hibernate. Honestly, I can't believe I've never thought of this before. The winter is so cold and so dark, I could just skip it, leapfrog over it and wake up in spring. So that's what I'm going to do. Now, I know what you're thinking. And yes, I do need snacks. I've been squirreling away protein bars and pretzels for a week now so I can wake up occasionally, nibble on a pretzel, maybe sip some water and. And then go right back to sleep. It's an airtight plan, I think. Oh, it looks like I have an email. Let me just take a look here. Dear Rhea, there is no way you can hibernate. And why not? How dare the studio spiders try to tell me what I can and cannot. Oh, hold on a second. I didn't read the rest of it. There is no way you can hibernate. How would you keep telling stories? Hmm, That's a good point. If I hibernated, I wouldn't be able to tell stories during the winter. Mm, I didn't think of that. Alright, I can admit when I'm wrong this time. And this time only the studio spiders are right. Don't let it go to your heads. I can't possibly hibernate. I must forge on through the dark winter. For all of you. Let's get to our story. It's called Leon's Adventure in the Snow. Take it away, Sam. Remember, there are no pictures. You'll have to imagine the pictures in your mind. You can imagine them however you want. Okay, here we go. The first snowflake, the very first one, sailed in a wide spiral in the gray sky and landed without a sound on the bough of a pine tree. No one saw it, but it was there. The very first of trillions more that followed. Each one was as light as air, but somehow, collectively, they formed a heavy blanket over the forest. The whole of the land was encased in white. In a few brief hours, the winter forest, quiet already became silent, as if the world itself had gone to bed. Leon, a young hamster, had gone to bed three weeks before. The first snowflake rode downward on the breeze. Below ground, in a small chamber at the end of a winding tunnel. Leon slept snug and comfortable, hugging his little mouse doll. And he would have kept sleeping all the way until spring, when his parents and siblings and uncles and aunts and dozens upon dozens of cousins rubbed their eyes and lurched out of bed and filled the labyrinthine burrow with springtime exuberance. He would have but for the fact that three feet above Leon's head, snow accumulated on an old pine bought, testing it and pressuring it until it snapped cleanly from the tree's trunk and hit the ground with a thunderous thud that shook little Leon three feet below. It took time for Leon to wake up. It can be hard to wake up from a single night's sleep. It can feel as though you are swimming blindly upwards from watery depths. Yes, one night can be hard enough. Leon had been asleep for weeks. But unlike his many siblings and cousins curled up all over the chamber, Leon was known for being a light sleeper. It was inevitable that he would open his eyes after such a tremendous thud, and he did. When he blinked his eyes open, it was utterly dark. Leon could not see a thing. He heard only the sleep sounds of the many other hamsters in the chamber. After the great thud, everything had hushed once more. But he knew he had heard something. And anyway, like it or not, he was up. It took effort to escape the pull of his bed. For several minutes, his arms and legs felt tight and sore from being frozen so long in the same positions. Leon stood in the dark and stretched and stretched until the feeling of tightness began to recede. He considered returning to bed to the cocoon of his blanket, but truth be told, Leon was a curious hamster who had spent the autumn months peppering his eldest sister with question after question about the winter world. But what is it like out there? I don't know. Cold. Don't you want to find out? Don't you want to explore winter? Don't you just want to see? Not really. She had scampered off down the tunnel, leaving Leon alone with his questions. This happened a lot because Leon just wanted to see about many things. Can I please climb to the top of that tree? No. Please. There's a squirrel's nest. I just want to see. Can I swim across the lake? You can put your feet in. But look. Look at that beaver lodge at the other end. I just want to see. Leon had reluctantly allowed himself to be tucked into bed along with the rest of the little hamsters. Lights out, Uncle Arthur, the resident borough rule enforcer had said gruffly. After all the hugs, goodnight had taken place, and the usual wrestling and shenanigans needed to stop, and the long winter sleep needed to begin. Lights out. But Leon's curiosity about the forest in winter never left him. So when the ground shook directly above his head, causing his little bed to shudder, waking him from a weeks long slumber. He took it as a sign that he should investigate. Leon did not mind the dark. He required no light in order to navigate the complex burrow he'd helped dig alongside his family. He made his way out of the chamber of sleeping hamsters and into the narrow passageway that he knew by smell, by feel. He went at a moderate pace, for his limbs were still buzzing with what felt like shoots of electricity from so much sudden movement after weeks of rest. As he scampered through the tunnel, he heard snores and staccato coughs coming from chambers filled with his relatives. Leon wondered if his cousins were dreaming. He couldn't remember a single dream from his weeks of sleep. Perhaps, he thought, he did dream. But the dreams all scattered like bugs from beneath an overturned rock. Where did they go? This line of inquiry left his mind in a hurry as he neared the exit of the burrow. Burrow? Where the underground met the forest floor. He couldn't see anything yet. Uncle Arthur had been the last one in for the winter and had covered the burrow entrance with sticks and moss. But as he moved towards it, still in complete darkness, Leon stopped short. Something was not right. What am I doing? And you might think Leon was having second thoughts, realizing it was a bad idea to sneak out of the burrow while his family hibernated. You might think he was imagining what his parents might say if they knew what he was up to. Leon, you don't belong outside in winter. Get back to bed, son. You might think he would turn around and return to his cozy bed, forget all about this wild idea of his to explore the winter forest. But you would be wrong. Instead, Leon stopped because he had heard a voice clear as a bell. You forgot me, buddy. It was Pip, his mouse doll. He had left him behind. Leon turned and ran back to the chamber, slipped inside and sniffed around, Quickly locating Pip by scent. He grabbed him, wedged him under an arm and retraced his steps. Thanks, buddy. Of course. Pip. I can't believe I almost left you. Leon made it back to where he had turned around within a minute or two. It was still absolutely dark, but he knew exactly where he was. And he knew if he made any sounds as he scampered these last few steps, his adventure would be over quickly. Because just off the tunnel, Uncle Arthur slept in his own chamber, keeping watch over the whole burrow. Uncle Arthur was a notoriously light sleeper, capable of catching even the wiliest little hamster scurrying around in the night. So Leon stood up on his tiptoes and stepped as if walking over broken walnut shells. Soon he heard Uncle Arthur's snores, and he had to stifle a giggle. Don't laugh, buddy, pip said silently. Leon nodded in the dark, and when he took a few more steps, he was struck by an overwhelming chill in the air. So this is what winter is like, Leon murmured to himself and to Pip, thinking, as children often do, that once they know a little about something, they know everything. In truth, Leon had no idea what awaited him. And so when he crept up to the exit of the burrow and pushed away the sticks and the moss, he was wholly unprepared for what met him. Leon had no idea what time of day it was. Remember, he had been asleep for weeks. He'd expected to be able to peek out from the burrow and to see either the sun or the moon, either a blue gray sky or a blue black one filled with stars. Instead, he saw a wall of something above him, blocking his view, as if the burrow had been covered by a blanket. The blanket was a light bluish tinged white. What is that, buddy? I don't know, Pip. Leon put out a paw to touch it, so cold and crusty. He scraped it, and tiny specks fell upon his whiskers. Ah, not a wall or a blanket. Leon imagined he'd be scolded for this investigation. Leon, his uncle, would boom. What do you think you're doing? But he was now more curious about winter than ever before. He scraped and clawed at the frigid stuff, sending more and more of it down into the tunnel around him. It was frightfully cold. He wondered how much more he'd have to dig through when all of a sudden a clump of the stuff fell down and brilliant rays of sun shone through so shocking and harsh they forced Leon to squint. It's daytime, buddy. Yes, Pip, it's daytime. It was actually late afternoon, nearly dusk, but compared to the dark of the burrow, it looked like the surface of the sun. Leon quietly climbed through the opening in the frigid white stuff, the snow, until he was fully above ground. He set Pip down. Wait here for a minute, okay? And worked to put the sticks and the moss back into place to cover the opening of the burrow to keep his family safe and warm. Then he grabbed Pip, who smiled up at him as he always did with that little yarn mouth Leon's mother had sewn beneath Pip's button nose, and trudged into the magical world of the winter forest. It took time for Uncle Arthur to wake up. It can be difficult to wake up from a single night's sleep, after all. Still, it was inevitable that he would. Once the cold snaked through Leon's shoddy effort at placing the sticks and the moss, the chill that slithered its way through practically shook Uncle Arthur awake. In a fit of shivers, he leapt out of bed, knowing immediately that something was wrong. He grabbed his cloak from the hook in his chamber and went to investigate. Meantime, Leon explored the snow. Once his eyes adjusted to the brightness, it was miraculous to be out there, stumbling through snowdrifts, sending puffs of sparkling crystals into the air that caught the light. Leon couldn't believe he'd been kept from this. This wondrous place. He wished his cousins were with him. How much fun they'd have together. He imagined scurrying back down the burrow, waking them up one by one, leading them into the snow. He grinned at the thought, then sighed. It could never be. Then he heard Pip's little voice. I'm c. C. Cold, buddy. He looked down at his little mouse doll. Pip was soaked through. We should get you home. Y yes, Buddy. Leon looked wistfully at the snowy landscape, trying to commit to memory the way the sun hit the snowy pine boughs, the smoothness of the snow's untouched surface over the land. Then he turned to go. As he did so, he heard the unmistakable cry of an owl. Oh, no. Leon fought the urge to freeze and ran instead, following his paw prints back towards the burrow. It occurred to him then how much his reddish blond and brown fur stood out against the endless white. And there was something else. He was very slow in the snow, so much slower than on dry land. Don't forget me, buddy, pip said. I won't, Pip. I won't forget. But Leon realized Pip meant something else. As he ran, he glanced at his dear friend. Pip's furry exterior was a pale gray. It was not white like the snow, but it might be close enough. Good thinking, Pip. Thanks, buddy. With the owl's cry coming closer, Leon crouched into a tight ball in the snow and held Pip over his head. From a distance from above, they'd be invisible, wouldn't they? The forest was silent. Leon curled up amidst piles of snow, breathed a sigh of relief. The owl must have moved on. Pip. I'll just stay here another minute. And it all happened so fast. One moment Leon was gripping Pip above his head. The next he felt the scrape of talons grazing his back and a tremendous pull from above. Pip was torn from Leon's paws and lifted limply up and away in the grip of a great horned owl. I've called Pip a doll, and he was that. But to Leon, Pip was more than a doll. You see, every adventurer needs a sidekick. Someone who will never abandon him, who will always stick up for him, who will remain loyal and true no matter what. That was Pip. While it might be hard for you and I to understand how Leon would not accept the fact that Pip was gone and return to the burrow, to his warm bed, to Leon, this was not an option. In the back of his mind, he knew, and of course, he'd been told by family members with increasing frequency, that someday he'd have to put Pip away, leave him behind, along with his childhood. But not like this. And so, just as he decided firmly that he had to find Pip, had to bring him home, Leon looked into the distance and saw two things. The owl growing faint in the gray sky, and a small speck that abruptly separated from the owl and dropped straight down to the snow. Come get me, buddy. Leon laughed to himself and felt his hope lift. I'm coming for you, Pip. It was quite a journey. The snow was deep and it was strenuous to walk such a distance. But Leon discovered happily that the farther he went and the harder he worked to trek through the snow, the warmer he became. He actually started sweating. And so when flurries began fluttering on his nose, it was a relief to have tiny pockets of cold cool his brow. Meantime, the sun sank in the sky, and Leon knew he was up against the earth's clock. On he went until he reached a very familiar, very old tree that he would recognize anywhere. This can't be right, Pip. If you are where I think you are, you're in the lake. Leon knew the lake was just past that tree, but all he could see was snow. And he realized then that the lake was frozen. Ah. Leon made his way past the old tree onto the surface of the lake. The iced over lake felt like the rest of the forest. The snow was so deep, there seemed to be no difference. Leon wondered what the fish were doing down below in the dark. Were they swimming? How did they swim through ice? But Leon's questions left his mind when he saw the edge of Pip's gray paw sticking out of the snow up ahead. You found me, buddy. Oh, Pip. Leon ran forward. When he was a few feet away, he heard a strange sound beneath his feet. Uh oh, Buddy. I'm coming, Pip. Don't worry, I'll get you. Leon kept going, and the cracking Sounds grew louder with each step, but it was just another few inches. Buddy, no. Turn around. Leave me, Pip. I can't leave you. You saved me from the owl. But, buddy. Leon reached out as far as he could to Pip's paw. And as he did so, the ice beneath his feet gave way. The next few moments came like flashes of lightning. Dark, freezing cold all around. A vise like grip on Leon's shoulder. A tremendous pull upwards. A blast of icy frozen air. Great swinging movements. So cold. So very cold. It took Leon a minute to understand he had been pulled out of the lake by a monster. The beast had thrown Leon over a furry white shoulder and swiftly made its way off the lake and past the old tree, back onto solid ground. There, the creature tossed Leon into a snowdrift. The little hamster was filled with both dread at the presence of this mysterious monster and sweet relief at seeing Pip hit the ground beside him. Leon had in fact, grasped Pip's paw in his own, and he had never let go. Leon hugged his frozen mouse to his chest and stared up at the furry beast. Then the beast reached up and seemed to show shift its entire coat of fur. Let me guess, came a familiar gruff voice. You just wanted to see. Leon trudged home in the snow, trailing behind his Uncle Arthur. They walked in silence, which Leon filled, imagining every single possible thing his uncle might say. Every admonishment, every expression of shocked disapproval. Do you know what could have happened out there? How could you leave the burrow like that? When will you learn, Leon? What if I hadn't shown up to save you, eh? What? Then? All that would come, no doubt. But right then, as the two hamsters, young and old, made their way back to safety in the fading light, Uncle Arthur said, I did it once. Leon, with Pip dangling silently from his right paw, stared up at his uncle, who had pulled down the hood of his furry white cloak. You went out in the winter. When I was about your age, in fact. But why do you think I take winter so seriously, eh? Why do you think I had this cloak ready on a hook for just this situation? Because I've seen it myself now. You have too. You better never forget it, then. So fleetingly, Leon thought he might have imagined it. An amused smile crossed Uncle Arthur's face. It was gone as swiftly as it had arrived. It was sunset by the time they made it back to the burrow. Leon took a last long look at the beautiful snowy forest. He knew he might never see such a thing again. Then he scrambled down through the burrow entrance. Uncle Arthur showed him how to properly place the sticks and the moss. You see that? No light coming in. No cold. I see. Then Leon allowed himself to be guided back to the underground chamber filled with his sleeping cousins. You're not off the hook for this, uncle Arthur whispered. I know. I'll come up with something, and I'm sure you're parents will have plenty to say. Leon winced at the thought. But it can wait until spring. Uncle Arthur tucked his little nephew into bed and kissed his forehead. Have a good sleep, you two. Leon heard footsteps retreating. Uncle Arthur? Yes? Thank you for saving me. You're very welcome, little nephew. Leon heard the door of the chamber close and the sounds of his cousins sleeping peacefully all around him. He curled up in bed and hugged his little mouse doll. But curiously, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn't hear Pip say anything at all. Leon fell asleep quickly this time he would not wake up until spring. I do wish I could hibernate, especially on a day like today when it is cold and bleak and windy. I suppose I'll settle for warming myself by the fireplace I have here in my tiny studio. I hope you enjoyed the story. Little Stories for Tiny People is written, performed and produced by me, Rhea Pechter, my in house Tech Director, Peter Peter K. Runs my website and puts my stories on the Internet for all of you to enjoy. Thank you to my Little Stories premium subscribers who are making it possible for me to keep sharing my stories with children around the world. Thank you to Sam for the super important reminder message at the beginning and thank you as always for listening in.