The pile of logs was tall now, stacked neatly under Ameth's watchful eye and Lor's straining arms.
Bark dust clung to his shirt, gritty and damp with sweat, while his muscles throbbed in a dull, insistent rhythm that made every breath feel like a small victory.
He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, smearing dirt across his forehead, and exhaled sharply before eyeing the mountain of wood they'd carved out of the forest's reluctant embrace.
"…You know this is too much, right?" Lor said, hands planted firmly on his hips, his voice carrying a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement.
"Even if we both break our backs, it'll take three—maybe four—round trips to drag it all back to town. And that's assuming we don't collapse halfway and become wolf bait."
Ameth didn't answer right away. She planted her axe in the dirt with a solid thunk, her shoulders rising and falling in one breath, like she was resetting some internal clock.
