The softness of the hood still enveloped Pipette when the portal lit up again.
This time, the light was neither golden, nor white, nor silver.
It was pale pink, like the reflection of a candle placed behind a frosted window.
Groubelin frowned, intrigued by this delicate glow.
Rudolf, for his part, approached with respectful slowness, as if he were recognizing an emotion.
— “It’s a light of calm,” he murmured.
"It comes from humans... when they seek rest."
The image gradually took shape, like a memory gently returning.
A small, quiet, cobbled street.
Half-timbered houses decorated with fir branches.
An Alsatian market, but observed late in the evening, when the crowds had left.
The lights there seemed softer, almost meditative.
And at the heart of it all…
a shop window.
A tiny shop with white curtains, whose light breathed like a slow sigh.
On the shelves: candles, silky fabrics, cotton cushions.
And, placed in the middle, was an object that the elves had never seen before.
A sleep mask.
Light beige, simple, with a deep softness.
Rudolf inclined his head gently.
— “Humans wear this to calm their thoughts before sleeping.
They call this fabric… a sleep mask.
It is an object of rest.
Peace.
Of inner silence.
Pipette observed the shop window with a reverence she could not explain.
— “It seems that… the human night is gentle there,” she murmured.
Ludo nodded, touched by the scene.
— “Perhaps to continue our journey, we also need a little peace and quiet.
"You can't run towards the light without learning to breathe."
As if in response, the mask vibrated in the halo, then gently crossed the portal.
It settled on a pile of cushions in the workshop, giving off a scent of cotton and serenity.
Pipette took it in her hands, and her whole heart seemed to slow down.
Groubelin smiled, calm.
— “Perhaps the magic of Santa Claus doesn’t only live during the holidays…”
but also in rest.
In silence.
In the act of taking care of oneself.
Rudolf breathed softly:
— “It’s a fragment of human peace.
And it will be useful to us.
Because the next step requires courage…
and calm.
The portal throbbed.
The night was deep.
But she was no longer frightening.