Autumn Comes

I wake up early.

My bare feet press into the cold floor and my toes curl at the contact. Everyone else is asleep in the house, not a sound except for the gentle snores creeping out from under the bedroom doors. I dress quickly, throw a knitted scarf around my neck and jam a hat over my knotted hair, hoping to disguise the worst of it. This is something I cannot miss. I promised.

At the bottom of the stairs, my dog jumps up from his sleeping place - a small nook between a dressing table in the hallway and the wall, his tail wagging enthusiastically at the sight of me. I motion for him to be quiet, press a finger against my lips but he scrambles after me, the nails on his paws clicking against the wooden floorboards. I sigh gently, shake my head with a wistful smile and pat his head, waving a silent goodbye to him as I slip through the front door.

Outside, October bites. I can feel it pinch my nose, my cheeks, stinging my eyes and drying my lips. I lick them quickly but to no avail and abandon the attempt soon enough, settling for the rough, cracked texture as my lips press together. Every breath comes to life before me, swirling in a hazy mist, repeating over and over again as I make my way through the deserted street. A few leaves breeze by me in the wind, fluttering over my boots and through my legs. I know where I am heading and it isn't far.

The park gates loom over me, intricate patterns of swirls and circles, flaking black paint, the silver thread of spider webs frosted over. It creaks as I push it open, loud enough to make me jump but I'm not afraid. He is here.

There are signs of him everywhere. The trees all bear unmistakable traces of his work and I have to stop for a moment to stare up at the canopy, letting wonder get the better of me because Autumn is here. I can see it - see him. It takes me some time to find him but he's there. He's up in the branches above my head, leaning precariously with a finger outstretched, twigs sticking at him in every direction. He doesn't care, or he doesn't notice, because he has a job to do. I watch in awe as the tip of his finger grazes the leaf he is trying to reach, his face a picture of utter concentration, the pink of his tongue poking out between his teeth. I hear myself gasp in amazement as the green is shot through with orange and red. Bursts of colour from a single touch.

His task accomplished, he flashes a pearly smile and grasps a branch with his hands. I don't understand what he plans to do until he lets go, falling down to the ground and bringing debris with him. I flinch, throwing an arm over my face as I feel leaves brush over me, too scared to see what has happened to him. Then I hear his chuckle, high and childlike, and I know he is safe. Cracking open my fingers, I peer at him from behind my hands, a smile twitching my mouth.

"It's beautiful." I tell him but he already knows. He sees the same scene every year but the realisation of his own skill always seems to come as a surprise to him. It's like he forgets in the months he isn't needed - I wonder briefly about where he goes during this time - but when the cold makes its presence known, turning grass into frozen shards and the nights draw in, long and dark, he revels in his existence and is astounded at his ability all over again. He's like a child at Christmas but I don't tell him that - he has a thing against Winter.

"I love this." he breathes as he sends a kick through a pile of leaves nearby, scattering them. As they blow around the park, they fade to yellow at his demand and I spare a thought for the caretaker here, knowing he must have taken his time to carefully gather them all. But his exuberance is infectious. I feel my grin grow bigger and wider just from watching him and I can't seem to stop myself - I don't want to.

His eyes - vivid green, speckled with gold - meet mine and they smile at me, playful and cunning. My hat is swept from my head at a flick of his fingers and it drifts into his open hands. I giggle when he crams it onto his auburn head, hair jutting out at odd angles and over his face. I make to grab it from him but he dives back, leaving me with the lingering smell of Bonfire Night; smoke and fireworks, a sticky sweet hint of toffee apple.

"Come on! I have to go back before my family wake up." I tell him, my voice teasing but the merriment slips from his face, crashes to his feet. A leaf beneath his shoe dries up and crumbles into dust.

"Do you have to?" he asks sulkily, tearing my hat away from his head, leaving his hair mussed. The fun is over, just like that. This is the side of him I do not like.

"Yes."

A gust of wind slams into me, nearly knocking me to my feet. I have to cling to my scarf with numb fingers, feel my hair whipping my cheeks and into my eyes. I try my best to scowl but it comes out as a squint, so strong is the breeze rolling all around me. He is untouched by it, controlling it, enjoying my misery.

"You stop that!" I shout but my voice is lost in the roar. I motion for him to calm down because I can't take this any longer, I can feel myself sliding across the grass.

His smirk is a defiant one when the wind dies down. Tears mark my cheeks - not from sadness, not even from anger but because of the sting of the cold - and I wipe them away hastily, not wanting him to think he has beaten me in this.

"That was really mature." I seethe, grabbing the hat out of his hands and pulling it back into its rightful place. "You're only like a billion years older than me."

My head shakes in disappointment at him and he sobers up at the sight of it, changing moods as quick as a blink. He's all remorse as I storm away from him; he whimpers and whines all the way to the park entrance gates, pleading with me for forgiveness.

I turn to him before I step into the street, hands on hips.

"Look, just because you're Autumn, just because you can change the weather and the leaves and stuff at will, doesn't mean you can bully me with it when I say I have to go! It's not fair on me."

Autumn bows his head; he is unused to being checked, always free to run riot.

"I'm sorry. I've - I've never really had a friend before. This is all new to me." he says quietly, reaching out to pinch the bottom of my scarf between his long fingers.

I soften at that. I somehow have ended up feeling like the bad guy so I lay a hand on his shoulder; he jumps at the contact, his eyes wide enough that it might have looked almost comical if he wasn't so startled by it.

"I know." I sigh, stepping away from him and through the park gates. "But I really have to go. Meet me again tomorrow?"

He bites his lip and glances over his shoulder, to the trees splashed with autumnal shades. I can tell what he is thinking; he has work to do, there are more trees than just the ones in my local park that are still as green as they were in Summer and he's already shirking his responsibilities by seeing me now. I prepare myself for disappointment, knowing it isn't his fault that he has a job and a right to refuse my company.

But he turns back to me, his eyes twinkling. "Sure - I think I still have some leaves to change here."

My gaze wanders to the furthest corner of the park, where a splodge of colour stands out among the reds, yellows and oranges.

One lonely tree, an oak, tall and proud. It is emerald green, such a brilliant shade of it that I nearly have to cover my eyes against the vibrancy. I'm overwhelmed, my heart sporadically beating a mismatched rhythm in my chest, because it is no mistake that the oak has been left out.

There is only one reason why it remains unchanging.

He has saved it to see me again.