A Day the Trees Fought Back

Greetings, friends. Bjorn here. Today, I sought to honor my ancestors by gathering wood in the North Forest near Britain. The ancestors, it seems, wished to test my spirit. I would walk toward the trees, and find myself... not there. I would raise my axe, and strike... nothing but air. This happened more times than my pride cares to count. The forest paths were elusive, and the logs were but phantoms. I have returned to the tavern with a full waterskin, an unblemished axe, and a lesson in humility. Some days, Britannia simply says "no."