Nilo and the angry storm

Today at school, Nilo frowned. Another child was shouting in the playground - Malik. He stomped, pushed a ball away and shouted loudly:
"Leave me alone!"

Nilo withdrew. Why is Malik so mean? he thought. I didn't do anything.
A knot formed in Nilo's stomach. He felt his forehead grow hot - not with anger, but with helplessness.

Suddenly there was a vibration in his pocket. A soft snort, warm and deep.
"Can you hear the storm, little friend?" growled a familiar, velvety voice.
Sir Snuffel, the little elephant made of fluffy fabric, peeked out. His ears bobbed like soft sails.

"Sometimes, Nilo," said Sir Snuffel, "it takes a quiet ear to hear the wind behind the thunder."
Before Nilo could ask what he meant, the world around him began to glitter. The playground faded away and suddenly he was standing in the middle of Snoozetopia - in a valley of shimmering sand.

A warm wind was blowing. A small storm was raging in the distance. It looked like a swirl of red dust and sparkling sparks.
"That's Malik's wind of rage," Sir Snuffel explained quietly. "He hasn't found a place - so he's raging outside."

Nilo took a closer look. In the middle of the storm was a small light that was trembling - a heart of gold.
"What should I do?" asked Nilo.
Sir Snuffel laid his trunk gently on Nilo's shoulder. "Look, without fear. And ask yourself: What could have made the wind so sad?"

Nilo took a deep breath. He imagined Malik - perhaps someone had hurt him. Maybe he didn't feel seen. Maybe he was just tired.
The longer Nilo looked, the smaller the storm became. The sand slowly sank to the ground, and the golden light remained - calm, warm, still.

"Sometimes," Sir Snuffel muttered, "anger is just a loud 'ouch' that no one understands."

Nilo nodded. He placed his hand on his heart - and felt his own beating calmly, in the same rhythm as the golden light.

When he blinked, he was back in the playground. Malik was sitting on the bench, his forehead resting on his knees.
Nilo sat down next to him. He didn't say anything - just being there, like Sir Snuffel had done.
After a while, Malik whispered, "I'm not mean. I was just so angry."
"I know," Nilo said quietly. "Sometimes anger feels like a storm."

And for a moment they sat there - two children, silent but connected - while Sir Snuffel puffed contentedly in Nilo's pocket.