Papa Acorn woke before dawn and went straight to the porch. He gripped the railing post and felt it shift under his hand. A thin crack ran down the wood, barely visible in the gray light. He pressed his thumb against it and the gap widened just slightly. This was real. This was happening. The railing he checked every night, the one he'd already fallen from twice, was finally breaking. He wrapped a strip of bright yellow fabric around the cracked post, knotting it tight. The color would warn Mama Acorn and Baby Acorn to stay clear. Inside, he could hear Mama Acorn starting breakfast. The smell of pine nut porridge drifted through the window. He couldn't tell her yet, not until he had a plan. Papa Acorn climbed down the oak tree and headed toward the small wooden shed at the forest edge. The door stuck when he pulled it, swollen from last week's rain. Inside, dust covered the shelves. He found a hammer with a loose head, three bent nails, and a saw with missing teeth. Nothing he could use. But through the back window, he spotted something better. A pile of fresh lumber sat in the clearing behind the shed, stacked neat and square. The boards smelled like sap and new wood. Papa Acorn ran his hand along the top piece. It was smooth and straight, perfect for a railing. He lifted one board onto his shoulder and started back toward the oak tree. By noon, he'd have the crack reinforced. By tonight, his family would be safe again.