The Hidden Monastery

A shiny black orb, bigger than a pea, slipped through a hole in the sky. A tiny bubble of life – a star seed. Who knows where it came from?

The little creature inside the orb had been sleeping comfortably, his nose buried under his tail, humming to the purr of his own heartbeat. Pat di pat, pat di pat, pat di pat. It was a song he knew well. But now the soft outer shell felt tight against his skin. As if he didn't belong inside it any more. He wriggled his body and arched his back.

Peng . . . Peng . . . The soothing voice of the wind sang his name, vibrating the membrane like a drum.

The creature stopped wriggling. His eyes shone like green emeralds.

It is time, the wind sang. Reach out to me.

Peng obeyed, extending his two front legs as far as they could go. Little by little, the membrane began to stretch and stretch until it was almost invisible. Then, with a small flick of his claws, he pierced the outer shell. The orb split in two.

As a sudden rush of cool air washed over Peng's body, he felt a wondrous sense of freedom. But this feeling lasted only a few seconds, for then he began to fall. Peng tumbled over and over. The sky and sea became one spinning whirl around him. In desperation, he kicked his legs and flapped his tail. But he was still too young to fly.



Soaring high above, the keen eyes of a hawk spotted the small creature falling through the sky. She had never seen anything like it in her territory before. But she could sense the flesh on its bones. A tasty treat for my two young'uns, she thought.

The hawk set Peng in her sights and sped towards him, her tawny wings outstretched, her tail feathers spread like a fan behind her. Closer and closer she came. Steady. . . steady. . . the talons of one foot flexed, ready to catch the creature in mid-flight.

But Peng had seen the menacing shadow pass overhead. Instinctively he thrashed his legs and lashed out with his tail. The lacy mane that ran down his back lifted, and for a moment he began to fly. The hawk missed her mark, talons closing around thin air. She tried again, hovering, adjusting her position, focussing her vision. But the wind was also watching. With invisible fingers, it lifted Peng high on its shoulders. The hawk could only watch as the little creature was carried far away on an upward spiral of wind.



In a city in China, a mother, her black hair tied back with a ribbon of gold, stood up from her bed and brought her baby to the window. His name was Mingzi. The fresh air might calm his unsettled spirit, she thought. He had cried all night – his stomach full of wind, poor thing.

The mother hummed a soft lullaby. . . 'he ya, hey ya,' she sang. As she rocked from side to side, she watched the neighbour­hood children playing ping-pong on a concrete table out on the street.

I wonder what my little Mingzi's future will be, she thought, bending down and kissing him gently on the forehead. A breeze blew against her face. It smelt of the sea. She twirled a loose strand of hair and hooked it behind her ear.

'He ya, hey ya . . .' The baby stopped crying.

As the mother glanced down, she saw a tiny creature land on the palm of her baby's hand. It looked like a small lizard. Mingzi cooed sweetly.

Peng in turn felt the warmth of the child's touch. This is where I surely belong, he thought. He relaxed his body and let it sink into the baby's palm.

But at that moment, the mother lifted Mingzi's hand to her lips and gently blew Peng out of the window where the wind was hovering, waiting again to take him away. For even though the boy and the creature were destined to be together, it was not yet time for them to meet.

The wind carried Peng across the city, where chimneys belched out thick clouds of black smoke, to a wide brown river, then out to the open sea. The wind was playful, lifting him high, then dropping him suddenly, only to pick him up again. It swirled Peng around and around until his head was dizzy and his stomach was turned upside down. And then, like a fickle friend, it deserted him.

To his horror, Peng found himself falling again. He tried kicking his legs and moving his mane, but gravity pulled him downwards. When he hit the water, the pain was like a thousand splinters piercing his body. What was this cold, wet fluid that pressed against his skin? Peng had no air left inside his lungs and no strength to fight. He was sinking fast. But then a miraculous thing happened. Two fan-shaped gills opened up on either side of his neck and immediately the pressure in his lungs eased. He took a small breath. Then another . . . and another. Yes. He was breathing underwater! It was as if Peng had always belonged to this watery world.

But he was not yet out of danger. He was still sinking down into the darkness, where the Black Abyss lay waiting like a huge cavernous mouth.