Timber

Chapter Two: Beneath the Timber

"Timber!" A lumberjack's call sliced through the forest's tranquility.

The sound was a sobering warning that stilled the very atmosphere. A majestic white pine's trunk groaned under its own weight. The entire thing tilted. A once-stationary behemoth transformed into a moving spectacle of nature's power.

The melody of the felling started with the splintering crack of wood until it amplified into a deafening roar. As it plowed through the air, birds of all kinds erupted from the surrounding treetops.

Bark fragmented into thousands of shards as the pine met the earth. The impact sent dust and dirt billowing into the air. The earthy scent of freshly cut wood amalgamated with the musk of the dew-drenched forest floor.

Hazel let her eyes flutter close filling her lungs to the brim. The scent was intoxicating. District Seven's forest was as much her home address as the modest log cabin where her family resided. The morning's dew clung to Hazel's skin and hair. She took a moment to immerse herself in the forest's beauty—the melodic chorus of birds, the soft whisper of leaves in the breeze, and the chime of axes striking wood. All of it was utterly home.

As the echo of the fall faded, the forest slowly returned to its rhythm. The incident was absorbed.

The fallen pine, its branches laid splayed out like a shattered doll. The temporary hole it had occupied was merely a space that would be filled with new life. No matter how big a tree they brought down, the relentless hum of the forest always returned.

The lumber site was alive with a focused energy, a hive of workers. Amidst this buzz of activity, Hazel moved quietly, scanning the area for ripe trees to fell. With a swipe of her axe, she marked the next on the line.

As she worked, her gaze often drifted toward her brothers. Each was engrossed in their respective tasks. Watching them, a sense of pride merged with an undercurrent of anxiousness within her.

Silus, the older of her two stepbrothers, was already maneuvering to prepare the fallen tree for transport. His muscles were taut, and with effort, he sliced through wood like it was cake. His skin glistened with the exertion, and his close-cropped hair almost blended with the shadows. He wielded his axe with the skill that he shouldn't possess at seventeen.

While Rowan was younger he had a gravity all his own. In the middle of the racket of engines and the clatter of chains, he directed the loggers. Sawdust adhered to his skin like flecks of wooden glitter in his dark curls. Unlike the more vocal Silus, Rowan's strength lay in his observation and reserved intellect.

Hazel paused, noting Silus laboring ahead. Despite the morning's coolness, his shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to his back as he set aside his axe to wipe his brow. Hazel unslung her water flask, approaching him.

"Working up quite the storm there, aren't we?" Hazel offered the flask to him with a concerned frown.

Silus looked up, surprise giving way to relief as he accepted the offering. Taking a deep, satisfied drink, he sighed.

"In your case it's less storm," he said with a playful smirk. "And more like a light breeze."

"Remind me to reconsider my generosity next time I offer hydration, and I get sass in return." Hazel shot back.

Silus chuckled, wiping the last drops of water from his chin. "True, without your five-star service, where would we be?" he hoisted his axe onto his shoulder. "Keep the water coming, and I'll keep the sass to a minimum. Deal?"

"Deal." She playfully poked his arm. "Still have to keep you in line."

Silus laughed, the sound echoing slightly in the wooded clearing. "Some things never change, huh?"