Submission (#637) Approved

[Writing submission!]

Wind whistled through the top of the chimney as the fireplace waited patiently to be used. Old, uncleaned ashes from last winter sat beneath the charred remains of a maple log. For a few months longer it would wait; The trees outside still clung to their leaves, however few there were left of the browns and oranges that fell off to the ground in great piles. Their dry brittleness created a pleasant crunching sound as Mal walked out of the front door, just in time to watch a pink and grey Weasewl dive headfirst into a leaf pile.

“Sato? What are you doing?” Mal asked, adjusting their sweater. It wasn’t quite cold yet, but the wind carried a bit of a chill. “I just swept that, you know.”

Said Weasewl looked at them sheepishly, trotting over to tower over Mal. They rested their head on top of Mal’s for a moment - their sign of affection. Sato’s bell jingled as they rose back up and began sweeping up the leaves back into a pile with their tail. Mal hummed, sitting on the porch steps and staring into their pumpkin spice chai. They weren’t even sure how they were supposed to drink it.

Mal watched leaves flutter across across the sidewalk the way partnered Terras strolled by cheerfully. Many were wrapped up cozily in striped scarves of browns, oranges, and yellows - just as the leaves were. There was a calm serenity that came with Autumn, Mal thought. Winter was chilling and bitter, warmed by a lit fireplace and surrounded by friends and cheerful festivities. Spring was sadly watching the snow melt away into puddles and rivers, waiting for the rains to come, watching the flowers bloom, and chasing after the last bits of cooler weather. Summer was about playing in the beaches and taking naps mid-noon just to wake up with your hair plastered to your visor.

But Autumn? Autumn was peaceful, and colorful, and just the word smelled of pumpkin spice and cinnamon. Autumn was lovey, Mal thought. Maybe that’s why it had two names.

When the sun began to dip down behind the hills, and even the colors in the sky bled together to match the season, Mal finally got up from the porch. “Sato! I’m heading inside,” Mal said pointlessly to the already sleeping Weasewl, nested in their newly swept pile of leaves. Mal sighed, then slipped inside. They returned with a large, soft blanket, decorated with little pumpkin and coffee prints. They gently draped the blanket over Sato before finally going back inside for the night.