The Woman with the Rake

You discover the leaf pile shortly after breakfast.

It is magnificent. Red leaves. Yellow leaves. Orange leaves. A few brown ones for variety. All gathered into a mountain in a corner of the yard.

Obviously, the human woman with the rake has made it for you.

You run.

You leap.

You disappear.

Leaves explode in every direction as you burst from the pile, wings spread, tail whipping happily behind you. You roll onto your spiny back and kick at the leaves until the entire corner of the yard is covered again.

Wonderful.

The woman does not seem to agree.

She returns with the rake, stares at the yard, then stares at you.

She sighs.

After rebuilding the pile, she points at it, points at you, and then shakes a finger: No.

Ah. That pile is off-limits.

Fortunately, there is another one in the opposite corner of the yard.

You leap into that instead.

When the woman returns, the finger-shaking is accompanied by much pointing, another sigh, and even a fist shaken in your direction.

You understand now. She does not want the leaves distributed unevenly.

You can help with that.

You scatter every pile in the yard.

You use your paws. Your tail. Your wings. Soon, not one troublesome pile remains. Instead, a beautiful blanket of autumn covers the grass.

You sit proudly in the middle of it.

The woman returns.

She stares.

You wag your tail.

She closes her eyes.

Then, unexpectedly, she kicks through the leaves.

You wait.

She kicks again, sending red and gold fluttering into the air.

At last!

Soon you are both stomping, kicking, rolling, and tossing leaves until neither of you has enough energy left to continue.

You rest together beneath a tree.

Eventually, the woman gets up.

Another sigh.

She retrieves the rake.

Oh.

You finally understand.

You trot into the yard and breathe a tiny ribbon of special dragonfire. It skips from leaf to leaf, glowing warm and golden. Leaves curl and vanish in little puffs of smoke while every blade of grass below remains green.

Soon, the whole yard is clear of leaves.

The woman looks at the rake, and then at you.

You wait for the shaking finger.

Instead, she smiles and puts the rake away.

You settle together beneath the tree again.

Above you, another leaf lets go. It spirals gently down and lands between your paws.

This one, you decide, can stay.