The Distant Legend
The axe bit deep into the heartwood of the oak, sending a spray of pale, fibrous shavings into the cold, gray air of the forest floor. My shoulder screamed, a dull, rhythmic throb that matched the cadence of my breathing, and I knew then that the tree would outlast me if I did not stop. I was not here for the timber, though the Guild would say I was. I was here to prove that I could still swing...
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