Damon stood in front of a sturdy tree, and a black and blue punching bag hung from a branch.
The bag swayed gently in the breeze, its surface reflecting the sunlight filtering through the leaves.
He reached out to shake the bag, testing its stability, but the moment he did, a loud crack split the air.
The branch creaked and groaned, its fibers snapping under the weight of the bag.
Damon's eyes widened as he instinctively reached out to grab the bag, his hands wrapping around it to hold it in place.
The branch fell, its splintered end scraping against his arm, leaving a faint scratch.
He sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. He had been looking forward to training with the new bag, and now he would have to find a new spot to hang it.
He looked around, taking in the surroundings, searching for a new tree with a sturdier branch.
Damon's eyes landed on a nearby tree, its branches thicker and more robust.
