Ruby had a rocket. It was small and round and painted orange, and it went whoosh.
Tonight she was flying it past the moon, past the stars, to somewhere she had never been. She had a map, drawn with crayon, and at the very end, it said: THE QUIET PLANET.
Whoosh, went the rocket, over a field of twinkling stars. Whoosh, over a ring of icy dust. Whoosh, past a comet with a long, shiny tail that waved hello.
"Nearly there," said Ruby, and slowed down.
Below her was a planet, small and silver-blue, with soft grey mist curling over it. She steered gently down. Her rocket landed on the surface with a puff, like a cat landing on a pillow.
Ruby climbed out. She was wearing her big space boots, and each step went whump, whump, soft as can be.
It was very quiet. She could hear her own breathing.
"Hello?" she called. But her voice came out as a whisper, because here, everything whispered.
A creature came drifting through the mist. It was round and fluffy, and the colour of moonlight. It floated, as if the planet were made of water.
"Hello," it whispered. "I am a Hush."
"I am Ruby," whispered Ruby.
"Welcome," whispered the Hush. "Would you like to see the best thing on the Quiet Planet?"
It led her to a hill. At the top, the sky opened up, enormous and dark, full of stars, more than Ruby had ever seen. They glittered like frost.
"We come here to rest," whispered the Hush. "We lie down, and we watch, and we let the stars do the talking."
Ruby lay down in the soft grey moss. It was warm, as if the planet were breathing gently. The stars went blink, blink, blink. A shooting star slid across the sky, slow and silent.
"This is the best place," whispered Ruby.
The Hush floated down beside her. Together, they watched the stars, and neither of them said anything for a very long time.
At last, Ruby's eyelids drooped. The Hush hummed a low, soft sound, which was a lullaby, though you could hardly hear it.
And the little orange rocket waited patiently, all night, to carry her home.