The gentle rhythm of rain drummed against the leafy roof of the treehouse, a soothing melody that mingled with the soft rustle of leaves swaying in the cool autumn breeze. Inside, the cozy warmth of the family’s home stood in comforting contrast to the damp world outside. The scent of roasted chestnuts and warm bread still lingered in the air, a pleasant reminder of the early dinner they had just enjoyed.

“That stew was perfect, Mama,” said the older sibling, a young squirrel named Tilly, leaning back in her chair and patting her small belly.

“Glad you liked it, sweetheart,” their mother replied with a smile, stacking the empty bowls on a tray. She was a sleek, chestnut-colored squirrel with a practical, no-nonsense air about her. “I’ll bring dessert in a minute. Apple tarts, still warm from the oven.”

”Yesss!” Tilly cheered, clapping her hands.

The youngest, a plucky little squirrel named Finn, wiggled in his chair with excitement. “Apple tarts are my favorite!”

Their father, a broad-shouldered squirrel with a grizzled tail, stood by the window, gazing out at the yard. His sharp eyes swept over the scene: a carpet of vibrant leaves in every shade of red, orange, and yellow blanketing the ground. The sight would have been beautiful if not for the work it promised. He sighed, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

Tilly noticed and tilted her head. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

He shook his head with a rueful chuckle. “Nothing, really. Just thinking about all those leaves out there. They’re piling up faster than I can rake them.”

Finn’s small ears perked up. He slid off his chair and padded over to the window. His round eyes widened at the sight. “Whoa, that’s a lot of leaves. You’d have to rake forever!”

“Not forever, buddy,” his dad said with a chuckle. “But long enough.”

Finn tapped a tiny finger against his chin as if deep in thought. “Hmm.”

Their mother reappeared just then, carrying a platter of golden-brown apple tarts. “All right, everyone, dessert’s ready!” she announced, setting it on the table. The sweet aroma of spiced apples and buttery pastry filled the room, making everyone’s mouths water.

But as the family gathered around, Finn was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Finn?” their mother asked, looking around.

Tilly frowned. “He was just here.”

Before anyone could answer, a strange scratching sound reached their ears, faint but persistent, coming from outside.

Their father’s ears twitched. “What on earth…?” He crossed the room to the door, pulling it open. The crisp air rushed in, carrying the earthy scent of wet leaves and rain. The scratching grew louder.

Together, the family stepped out onto the porch, peering into the yard. There, under the drizzling rain, was Finn. He was bundled up in his little yellow raincoat, the hood nearly swallowing his head, as he struggled with a rake twice his size. Determined, he dragged it across the sodden ground, gathering leaves into a clumsy pile.

“Finn!” his father called, half amused, half exasperated. “What are you doing out here?”

Finn looked up, his face lighting up with a proud grin. “I’m helping! You looked so sad, Dad, so I thought I’d rake the leaves for you!”

Tilly giggled. “That rake’s bigger than you are!”

Their father chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else, kiddo.”

Without another word, he grabbed his coat and stepped off the porch. “Come on, Tilly. Dessert can wait. Let’s give him a hand.”

Tilly nodded eagerly, pulling on her own coat. The two joined Finn in the yard, their feet crunching over the wet leaves. Together, they worked in the gentle rain, raking and piling the colorful foliage as the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke filled the air. Finn’s little hands moved with gusto, his laughter ringing out as he played in the leaves between rakes.

After a short while, their mother appeared at the door, watching them with a fond smile. “Don’t take too long, or the tarts will get cold,” she called.

“We’re almost done!” Finn shouted back, his small face flushed with joy.

True to his word, it didn’t take long. With the three of them working together, the yard was soon cleared, leaving only neat piles of leaves by the base of the tree.

“Great job, team,” their father said, clapping a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Couldn’t have done it without you, buddy.”

Finn beamed up at him. “I’m a good raker, huh?”

“The best,” Tilly said, ruffling his hood.

The family returned inside, shedding their damp coats by the door. The warm, inviting scent of apple tarts greeted them, a perfect end to their unexpected adventure. They gathered around the table once more, laughter and the sound of clinking forks filling the room as the rain continued its soothing symphony outside.