Sneakyarrow

Prelude… Chop, chop, chop. The axe whistled through the air again and again, the pattering rain muffling the sounds of the night. “Wood, wood, wood. Day in and day out. There, that is the last. Not like all this rain is ‘elping or anything.” The man slung the axe over his shoulder and started trudging back to his home down the narrow path. A chill ran up his spine and he stopped. He had never felt anything like this before. Fear. Bone chilling, breath taking, fear. He started to walk quicker. There was nothing in the woods to fear. That pack of wolves had been taken care of a month ago. He realized that the crickets had