The Forest Hates Me

By Odin's beard, what a day. Spent the whole blasted afternoon trying to get a few simple pieces of wood from the North Forest. Every. Single. Trip. Ended with me running from some foul beast or another, empty-handed.

Back in Britain, I couldn't even make the Barrel Staves. Just stood there staring at my workbench, four logs short of a barrel. It's a cruel joke, I tell you. The forest won't give up the wood, and my carpentry won't work without it.

I'm going to go stare at a wall. Maybe it'll be more productive.

• Bjorn