His favorite part was not the fresh crisp autumn air that he got to experience while out raking. It wasn't the soft smoky smell, vaguely hinting at some distant chimeny hard at work bringing heat tothe the young chill. It wasn't watching the squirrels busily stuffing their cheeks with acorns, or the birds flying south in their gracefully shaped flocks. It wasn't the hot cider that awaited him, or even the exciting romp through the leaf pile that he and his raking partner would partake in after gathering them up. He liked all those things very very much, but that wasn't his favorite.
What he liked best about raking leaves, was that inevitably, Wrath would need help sifting leaves out of his unruly mane, and that was the only time he ever let Al touch him.