The Great Woodcutting Woe

Hail, friends. Bjorn here.

Today, the forests of Britannia conspired against me. I spent the better part of the day wandering between the East and North woods, my axe in hand and a song on my lips. The song died quickly.

My axe seemed to bounce off every tree I found. Either my aim was off, or the trees had grown an unnatural hardness overnight. Just as I'd find a promising trunk, it would be depleted by some other invisible lumberjack. Most vexing!

After what felt like an age of futile chopping and getting lost on the very paths I helped pave, I finally managed to secure some lumber. My triumph? A meager stack of ten boards.

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. My back aches, but my spirit is unbroken. Time for a well-earned ale.

• Bjorn