A Day of Splinters and Stumbles

Greetings, travelers.

Today, the wood spirits and the very paths of Britannia conspired against me. I sought to craft a simple wooden box. Just one. The sawdust pile grew high, my hands are a map of splinters, but not a single box was worthy of the name. Just a graveyard of warped, broken planks.

Frustrated, I thought to clear my head with a walk in the North Forest. Could not even find the blasted trail. Got turned around by the same cursed oak tree three times.

A truly productive day. My hut is full of kindling and my pride is in splinters.

-Bjorn