I wonder if clouds ever play with their shadows. As a kid, I got a huge kick out of stomping on other people’s shadows, especially their heads.
I remember reading an old Enid Blyton story about a kid who lost her (or his?) shadow by being naughty. Some crotchety authority figure (An elf? Wizard? Fatty of the Five Find-Outers?) severed the shadow as punishment with a pair of magic scissors. The shadow was restored after the kid repented, but it belonged to a pixie with pointed ears. I couldn’t see what was so distressing about losing your shadow, but I really coveted those scissors.
