Martha glanced out the window at her son, whacking at the lonely oak standing silent sentinel in the backyard. His thrusts at the trunk proved ineffective, but he managed to reach the stick to some of the lower hanging branches. The force of his blows knocked a few of the scarlet leaves to the ground. He watched them fall, a grin spreading over his face.
“Yes!” The shout rang through the yard. Martha grinned quietly to herself as she raised her coffee mug to her lips. It had been long, too long, since she had seen her boy so excited about anything.
The boy picked up the fallen leaves – 12 so far in all. With the utmost care, he carried them across the yard to a dry patch where the grass had been worn away. He placed the leaves gently against the ground, placing pebbles on top to keep them in place.
A moment later he was back at the tree, whacking the branches once more. Martha assumed he needed more leaves for whatever he may be doing. He repeated the process three or four times before he finally stood up from the pile of leaves, and looked over at her triumphantly.
“And that is how you build dragon scale armor!” he roared, raising his powerful fist into the air.