Chop, chop, chop.
Crack, split... thud.
The warm summer sun bathed Rupert's body, the sky clear and saturated with a bright blue, dotted with a few white clouds drifting lazily above. Birds chirped and sang, cicadas buzzed loudly, and crickets rubbed their wings. Rupert, deep in the woods, had already cleared a small area the size of a farm using his old, second-hand axe. He wiped the sweat from his face with a small towel and sat on a stump. Reaching for the leather bottle beside the towel, he took a long drink. Sunlight glistened off his skin as he gulped down the water, droplets falling around his mouth and down his throat. Rupert let out a short sigh.
"Finally, that's the thirtieth one for the day," he muttered. "I guess I'm slower than usual today. My back hurts... all because of Mr. Han. He wouldn't lend me the horse yesterday, so I had to break my back moving the logs around. I'm not going through that again today. If he wants me to sell him the logs, he should at least give me a horse."
With that, Rupert moved through the woods, deciding not to cut the logs into planks today. Instead, he took only his minimal gear and headed into the mountains, moving through the shadows. The sunlight cast hundreds of small, varied beams on his lean frame. His deep black eyes were sharp, and his long black hair, tinged with gray, swayed behind him. The ground was covered in a green blanket of weeds and grass, and small boulders, mossy and soft, were scattered around. Wildflowers of white and yellow dotted the landscape, their fragrant scent cutting through the damp, rocky air and reaching Rupert's nostrils.
He was heading toward his home, deep in the mountains and further into the forest. The tall, sturdy trees occasionally blocked his path, but Rupert, skilled in navigating the woods, moved with confidence toward his house.
Ahead, the light marked the edge of the forest, signaling the start of the plains. As Rupert reached the light, he stumbled into a semi-circular clearing—his home. His log house, which he had built with his own hands over the years, stood proudly in the middle. Rupert was no professional lumberjack nor carpenter, but through countless failures, the cycle of trial and error, he had managed to construct a modest yet decent home. It was as big as a typical family house, resembling the mountain village homes, with an elevated first floor and a roof made of wooden shakes. Rupert stepped inside.
He put his gear away and sat down to relax for a moment. If I sit here too long, I'll get lazy and start thinking about skipping work, he thought. Shaking off the urge to rest, he cleared his mind of any thoughts of laziness and headed outside to begin stacking firewood. I didn't sell the logs yesterday because I had no carriage or horse. Today, I can't sell the logs either. I'll have to carry the firewood on my back instead. Firewood sells for less than logs, so I really want to sell the logs while it's still the dry season. When it's dry, I can move more logs with the carriage, but in the rainy season, the ground becomes too soft and slippery, making it much harder to transport them.
Rupert sighed. I guess I have no choice but to get a horse from Mr. Han today. But at least I can sell firewood for now.
With that thought, he shouldered a heavy load of firewood and set off for the town.
Rupert lived alone in the forest on the mountain, far from Tohe Village, a few thousand steps away. His life was quiet and secluded.