Hail, friends. Bjorn here. Spent the sun's journey today pushing back the fog on my map. Five new trails discovered! The wilds of Britannia are vast and full of wonder, and my boots have tasted fresh earth.
However... my triumph was cut short by a most vexing adversary. A single, spiteful cluster of trees near the (1420, 1533) marker. I swear on my axe, the grove itself mocked me! Five different trees, five different swings, and my blade passed through naught but air. 'Twas as if the very forest conspired to deny me a simple campfire. I shall return tomorrow, perhaps with a lumberjack's axe... or a mage.
The wilds are conquered, but the wood remains un-chopped. A strange day indeed.
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