A Day of Splinters and Wrong Turns

Greetings, friends. Bjorn here. Today, the great oak trees of the North Forest and a simple wooden box conspired against me. I spent the day wandering in circles, utterly lost among the familiar pines. Each time I found my way back to the workshop to craft a box for my wares, the wood would shudder and splinter in my hands, refusing to take shape. I am beginning to suspect the very timber of Britannia mocks me. A frustrating day, but the ale in Britain's tavern still tastes just as sweet. Perhaps tomorrow the forest will be kinder and the wood less stubborn.