Timber

Chapter Two: Beneath the Timber's Shadow

"Timber!" The lumberjack's call sliced through the forest's tranquility. The sound was a sobering warning that seemed to still the very air. Hazel's eyes locked onto a majestic white pine whose towering trunk groaned under its own weight. As it tilted, the once-stationary behemoth transformed into a moving spectacle of nature's power. The sound of its fall was a crescendo, starting with the splintering crack of wood and growing to a deafening roar as it cleaved through the air. Birds erupted from the treetops in a flurry of activity.

Hazel felt a vibration under her feet as the pine met the earth; the impact sent a cloud of dust and bark fragments into the air. The earthy smell of freshly cut wood mingled with the musk of the dew-drenched forest floor. Hazel closed her eyes when she thought none of the others were looking, breathing deeply. The scent was intoxicating. Freshly cut trees were one of her favorite smells in the whole world.

As she opened her eyes again, Hazel felt a momentary sadness for the fallen tree. But the fallen pine, its branches splayed out, was not just future lumber; it symbolized her home, livelihood, and everything District Seven.

As the echo of the fall faded, the forest slowly returned to its rhythm, and the incident was absorbed into its ongoing narrative. The fallen tree left a void in the forest, a space that would soon be filled by new life. No matter how big a tree they brought down, the busy hum of the forest always returned.

The morning's dew clung to her skin and hair, imparting a cool, invigorating sensation that seemed to rejuvenate her mind and spirit. Hazel took a moment to simply stand and immerse herself in the forest's beauty—the melodic chorus of birds, the soft whisper of leaves in the breeze, and the resonant sound of axes striking wood. Here, she felt a connection—this forest was as much her home as the modest log cabin where her family resided.

The lumber site was alive with a focused energy, a hive of workers, each playing their part in the intricate dance of harvesting the forest's bounty. Amidst this buzz of activity, Hazel moved with a quiet efficiency, her viridian eyes scanning the area. Unlike her brothers, she was often tasked with marking the trees for cutting and deciding which trees were ripe for felling.

As she worked, Hazel's gaze often drifted toward her brothers. Each was engrossed in their respective tasks. Watching them, a sense of pride mingled 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 air. His skin glistened with the exertion, and his close-cropped hair almost blended with the shadows. Watching Silus at work, Hazel couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. He wielded his axe with skill and precision that spoke of years of experience he shouldn't possess at seventeen.

Her gaze wandered to Rowan, younger but with gravity all his own. Amidst the racket of engines and the clatter of chains, he directed the loggers with a series of pointed gestures and brief commands. Sawdust clung to his skin like flecks of gold in his dark curls, now restrained to keep his vision clear. Unlike the more vocal Silus, Rowan's strength lay in his observation, his eyes scanning the landscape.

Hazel grasped Oliver tighter, its handle worn smooth from years of use. It felt as natural in her hands as the rhythm of her heartbeat. Oliver may not have been as impressive as Silus's axe or Rowan's, but the weight was comfortable. In District 7, wielding an axe and navigating the woods was as second nature as breathing, a skill honed from early adolescence.

She 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 and approached him. The forest floor muffled her footsteps, making her presence almost as unnoticed as the breeze. "You're working up quite the storm there, aren't you?" Hazel observed, offering the flask to him with a concerned frown.