Her Arrival

(The start of a story I'd like to have read to my children if I'd had them)

At the bottom of the hill as the fog rolled in, a dazzling rug of many colours slipped through where the moss grew thin.

‘Goodness me,’ said the Bear as she landed. She got to her knees, and then to her paws, and then she stood bigly tall and shook herself thoroughly.

Golden sprinkles sprinkled onto the damp dark ground and her nose rose to sniff the air. The Golden Polar Bear snorted twice when she felt the rain drops plop plopping, and started walking up the road. She muttered to herself and huggled herself into her big fur coat… The Golden Polar Bear disliked the rain drops plopping, especially on Her nose… But she’d come this far so she trudged on.

Dear friend, we will come back to her nose, that nose, her slightly pointy nose, for the Golden Polar Bear has a habit of poking her nose in places it’s not always wanted. It’s a sniffer for sniffing and a nose for nosing and a pointy nose for sniffing and nosing and pointing.

But for now we will watch where the Golden Polar Bear is going… if you’d been there (but sadly you weren’t) and you’d opened your eyes extra extra wide (but you didn’t because you weren’t), you wouldn’t have seen her. It was a liquorice black night, so black and dark you could taste it! But you’d see what she’d left behind her: big, gold, paw prints, shimmering in the rain…