9  Pico do Arieiro: A Dance in the Clouds

“Today, Mia, we’ll go higher than ever before,” said Little Bird with a flutter of excitement. “You’ll need your warmest coat, your fluffiest hat, and your most adventurous boots.”

Mia bundled up and hurried outside. A jeep with a friendly guide named Jeff waited, ready to take them up winding mountain roads.

As they climbed, the city disappeared beneath them. Mia rolled down the window. The scent of eucalyptus swirled in, fresh and cool.

In the distance, she saw a giant white ball perched on the peak.

“Is that a space station?” Mia whispered.

Little Bird laughed. “No, silly! That’s a radar dome. We’re not flying to the moon today—just to Pico do Arieiro, one of the highest peaks in Madeira.”

When they reached the summit, Mia gasped. They were above the clouds!

Fluffy white mist hugged the mountains. Mia raised her hands and ran through the vapor.

“I always thought clouds would feel like cotton,” she giggled, “but they’re made of tiny drops!”

Suddenly, the clouds parted, revealing endless views of peaks and valleys, bathed in golden sunlight. Then, as if by magic, snowflakes began to fall.

“It’s snowing!” Mia twirled and danced, her laughter echoing across the mountains.

“Let’s make snow angels!” she shouted.

Mia, Jeff, and Little Bird lay down in the snow, waving arms and legs. Little Bird’s wings left the tiniest angel of all.

As they sat up, snowflakes sparkled in Mia’s hair.

“It’s amazing,” she said softly, “that one island can hold so many wonders. Sunshine and snowfall—all in a single day.”

Little Bird nestled into her scarf. “Madeira is full of surprises. And the best ones are shared with friends.”