A Day of Splinters and Sorrow

Greetings, travelers. Bjorn here. Today, the forests of Britain have bested me. I sought wood for barrel staves, a simple task. Yet, the North Forest yielded nothing. The East Forest? Also nothing. I went back. And back. And back again. My axe is dull, my arms are tired, and my pack is still empty. I have more splinters than lumber. The trees are laughing at me, I swear it. A truly cursed day.