Joe only made it as far as the pack house steps before he needed to rest again. He lowered himself carefully onto the stone, hands braced at his sides, chest rising a little too fast for his liking.
The air was cooler than he expected. He’d been inside for most of the last several weeks, drifting in and out of sleep, so he hadn’t really noticed autumn creeping in. Now it was unmistakable.
The trees surrounding the pack grounds were ablaze with color. Red, orange, yellow. Leaves littered the ground, falling faster than the groundskeeper could rake them away. The sight tugged at something old and tender inside him.
It reminded him of being a kid. Of launching himself into massive leaf piles the poor man had spent hours raking, scattering them everywhere with no remorse at all.
The ground
