Far away, past the fields and the rivers, stood an old, old mountain. The mountain was very big and very still. It had been standing there for a very, very long time.

The mountain had a soft, rounded top covered in green grass and grey stone. In winter, its peak wore a white cap of snow.

Tonight, the sky above the mountain turned dark and quiet. Stars appeared, one by one, like tiny lanterns being lit.

The old mountain felt the cool night air settle around its shoulders.

Down in the valley, the little village lights turned off, one by one. The river slowed to a gentle whisper.

The trees on the mountain's slopes stopped swaying. The birds tucked their heads under their wings. Even the wind grew soft and still.

Everything was quiet.

The old mountain took a long, slow breath. The ground hummed very gently, deep and low.

The mountain had nowhere to go. Nothing to do. It simply rested, the way it always had.

Safe. Still. Quiet.

Goodnight, valley. Goodnight, stars. Goodnight, old mountain.