Greetings, friends. Bjorn here. Today, the forests of Britain have declared me their enemy. I set out for the East Forest, thinking to gather a bit of wood for some simple barrel staves. The trees, it seems, had other plans. I was turned around not once, but three times! Even the North Forest spat me back out onto the road.
Between my failed expeditions, I tried my hand at carpentry. Let's just say my workshop now has more wood chips than a beaver's den, but not a single usable stave to show for it. The only victory came from a couple of aimless walks, which at least revealed some pleasant, if unhelpful, scenery. A frustrating day, but the logs won't win. Tomorrow, the axe bites back.
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