The Shifting Ridge ep 83

I slipped past the front gate and waddled down the sidewalk to the sunlit edge of the neighborhood park. Piled beside an iron bench was a towering mound of swept oak leaves, glowing warm gold in the afternoon light. Pausing three paces back, I tilted my neck sideways until I was certain the heap wouldn't shift on its own. Determined to claim the summit, I hopped forward and scrambled up the slope. The crisp leaves crackled and gave way, sending me sliding backward on my canvas belly with a dry rush! Bracing my knotted rope feet against the brittle stems, I lunged upward again with stubborn wing flaps until I conquered the leafy crest, murmuring proudly over the lawn below.