Towers of Old Fire

That dawn, Polly rode in the basket. The balloon drifted low over the stone towers. Polly reached out and touched the smooth grey cap of rock on top of a tower.

The pilot pointed at the far horizon, where a white mountain stood in the morning light. "Long, long ago, that mountain was a volcano," he said. "Its ash fell here and became this soft pale stone."

Rain and wind shaped the soft stone into towers. But each tower wears a cap of harder, darker rock. The cap protects the tower, like a little hat. People here call the towers fairy chimneys.

The soft stone is easy to carve, and in the air it becomes harder. So people cut doors, windows, stairs, and whole rooms inside the rock. Polly looked into a small carved window as the balloon floated past. A cool, quiet room waited inside the stone.