Through the Dry Leaves

I charged down the front porch steps and locked onto a deep drift of dry autumn leaves banked against the garden stones. I didn't slow down—I lowered my snout, tucked my ears, and threw my weight straight into the crunchy mound at full speed. The crisp leaves crackled loudly around me like popping paper. Brittle stems caught against my shoulders, but my segmented body flexed and shoved forward, my paws churning relentlessly through the dark crawl space. With one last surging push, my nose punched through the far side into the bright daylight, sending a shower of golden flakes across the flagstones.