The Day the Trees Laughed at Bjorn

Greetings, fellow adventurers. Bjorn here. Today, the forests of Britain conspired against me. I sought lumber for barrel staves, a simple task for a man of my... well, normally my skill. But the trees of both the East and North forests refused to yield a single decent log. Four pieces of wood. That's all I needed. Four.

My axe and I made more trips than I care to count, returning to my carpentry table empty-handed each time, only to be reminded of the four missing planks. I am beginning to believe the very wood is mocking me.

A frustrating day. I shall try again tomorrow, hopefully after the trees have had a change of heart.