In the Forest.
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After knocking the dust out a large fur, for some reason, they made their way into the forest. Damian carried an axe over his shoulder, the old lady walked with the coal stick. Damian was in stride behind her, despite holding what would be seen as the weapon of the two objects, if a person didn't know better.

The grass became more sparse, and he heard the movements up-ahead, in the forest. There were now birds flying around, and chirping. There was the occasional shuffle, and grunt, that could be a deer, he supposed. The howling in the distance might have been the gathering of a wolf pack. He gripped what he saw as the lesser weapon more tightly, now. The wildlife seemed to have hidden themselves because of the creature's appearance, and had now returned to forage. The silence had been worse, in a way.

On their journey, they had stayed in the pine parts. At one point, she brushed away needles picked up a twig, and he watched as it grew, knitting into a basket of wicker. Shocked, despite having seen multiple feats, he managed to keep a straight face, to hide it. She continued brushing aside pines; occasionally picking mushrooms, which she then threw into the hand basket.

They weren't moving at random, he noticed, they were moving in a general direction. Further into their journey, the pine trees became spaced, similar to the entrance of the forest, in a way. Different, in that these tress were massive, compared to the rest. They stopped at what seemed, to him, to be the biggest, as she pointed, to the him, the tree, and the axe, and spoke. He smiled, pointed to himself, and then shook his head, he pointed, himself, to the coal walking stick. She struck him with it, he got up and began to cut the tree down.

Large amounts of chips would fly with each swing, but compared to the tree they were very little. Damian kept his gaze steady as he did his work. His swings were sloppy, un-use to holding anything besides a pen, or protractor. But his new body was strong, and his stamina seemed endless, eventually he gained enough experience that the axe wouldn't bounce off and rebound sloppily. Eventually he gained a rhythm. 

After about twenty five minutes, he got more than a foot out it; a little more than twenty percent, if he trusted himself to measure it properly. The thudding became more, and more dramatic, until he began to wonder how the shaft of the axe had held up so far.

The old woman had been standing off to the side, quietly watching. Sometimes she would smile; at those times, he would wonder if she was a creep?

While he was distracted, she pointed her stick off to the right, and by the time he had looked, it had returned to normal. Except a white wolf hung on its end; its heart had been pierced.

She walked to one of the lower branches, on a smaller tree. He stopped looking after seeing her pull a dagger, before slitting its throat.

His thudding began. This time, he payed more attention to his swings, and more chips began to fly, as he regained his rhythm, quicker than he had found it. He felt almost relax, for first time, since he had arrived.

By four, he supposed by the sun's position, he had nearly cut through the entire tree. He noticed how odd this tree truly was, as after only a few hours, it had started the process of healing.

He set himself for the final swing, by throwing the axe's head far behind him, holding his waist and chest, tight, and taking a deep breath. He swung mightily, the axe gouged out a few pounds of wood, and the tree fell.

The fallen needles and pines were very thick, but the seventy foot tree still sent a massive shock throughout the entirety of his body. He steaded his breathing, which had only become slightly exhausted throughout the whole of his work, by placing a hand onto his chest, right above the heart.

The old lady, skinned and prepared the wolf, and left it hanging, as she came towards him. She took the axe away, and ran an eye over its length, before beginning to pace around the stump of the tree. He had dulled the axe to an almost blunt instrument, what was she about to do? Unconsciously, he hoped it would be magic.

On her second walk around, she placed the axe's head against the tree's bark. It should've been dulled, but it slid through the bark; like a hot knife through factory foam. She made a vertical slit, and, slipping her wrinkled fingers between this slit, she began to pull the bark away, as if removing skin from fruit. She dangled it, and it resembled a nut, in appearance, a leaf in behaviour; as it swung in the wind. She threw it aside, and once it had hit the floor, it coiled, becoming rigid, again, like tree bark.

She repeated the process, stripping away a pale, and oddly, soft, white, membrane, from the stump.

"Cambium?" He spoke to himself, and nodded. He  had seen it before, on a wildlife program.

She crushed the entire removed strip of cambium into a ball, which she then threw into her wicker basket. Before throwing him some vine; she pointed the wolf and began to back-track. He held it, at the knot, and threw the pelt over the axe's blade.

He had tried to whistle on their way back... until she swung at him; so they made their way in silence. He really didn't like the quietness on the journey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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