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Summary
Pebbles crunched underfoot as Allura made her way down the garden path, avoiding the puddles even in her new rain boots. Her mother would not be pleased if she splashed mud on her tights or dress.
It was fall, and the leaves had turned every shade from maroon to ochre. The trees at the back of the garden, past the fence, had the most spectacular ones, colored ruby red or fire orange, all of them the size of her head or bigger.
The pebbles of the path made way for mud and a carpet of fallen leaves a few feet from the garden gate. Allura had always found that odd, why not continue it all the way up to the gate?
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