Raine woke up early the next morning; there was work to do. He reached for his leather boots, but something felt off. The room was unfamiliar. It was barren, with only the bed, a wardrobe and a small desk with an unlit candle on top. An earthy smell hit his nose; though it was new it somehow felt comforting.

  He noticed a pair of small boots standing next to a closed window.

  Does this room belong to a child?

  A roar echoed, shaking the very foundations of the room he was in.

  Raine jumped out of his bed and ran towards the window; his ears still ringing from the roar.

  He opened the shutters and looked out. The house was shrouded in fog, obscuring his vision. His eyes darted around, searching for something, anything but there was nothing other than the fog, thick enough to touch.

  Another roar sounded and he turned in its direction. There was a light in the far distance. It grew brighter by the second until everything outside the window was alight, flooding the room. He stumbled back.

  Something is wrong. He shook as chills ran down his spine.

  Raine ran towards the door, it wasn't locked; yet when he attempted to open it, it felt as though the door wasn't there.

  Screams and cries echoed through the fog. Then a loud bell chimed in the distance, growing louder with every toll.

  He reached towards the window once more, but everything became dark again. A moment later, his eyes fluttered open. He lay in his own bed again, sweating and panting.

  It was a dream... just a dream.

  A sigh of relief left his chest.

  “What in the actual hell was that?” He exclaimed in utter disbelief. Extending his arm, clammy fingers grasped at the air. Everything had felt so real.

  His eyes snagged on the locket resting on the shelf beside his bed. His heart skipped a beat and a familiar sensation crept over his body, making him tremble. Taking a deep breath, he clenched the pendant tightly to his chest, willing himself to calm down. The trembling stopped, though his breathing remained heavy.

  The dream lingered in his mind. He stood, wiped the sweat off his face and quickly got dressed.

  “Good morning!” He called as he stepped into the main room.

  “Morning, sleepy head.” Called back Pauel.

  “You look like you barely slept at all! Do you now see why I didn’t want you to drink yesterday?” Said Olga, washing the dishes.

  “So, the young man has a hangover? No better cure than to sweat it off; some work will do you miracles.” Laughed Pauel.

  If only it were a simple hangover.

  “Sit and have a bite. We still must get that silver fir off Brent’s property.”

  Raine nodded and sat behind the table. “Got anything else planned today?”

  Pauel shook his head.

  Raine sighed, slightly relieved.

  A warm oatmeal with blueberries and milk was placed in front of him. Olga leaned over and kissed him on his cheek.

  “How's your progress on the ol’ Ash tree at the Meadowcove forest?” Pauel asked.

  “Well…” Raine sighed. “The axe almost broke again because of it. Though I’d say I’m about a third of the way there.”

  “About a third of the way in about five months?” Pauel asked.

  “Something -” The young lumberjack replied as he chomped down on his food. “-like that, yeah.”

  “That’s not bad, but don’t you feel like you’re pushing yourself too much?”

  “And whose fault do you think that is?” Olga interjected angrily. “Wasn’t it you who suddenly started talking about how a true test of any lumberjack is to take down a world tree, even if it was still just a young one?”

  Raine smirked at the remark.

  “Well, how was I supposed to know that he’d take it upon himself to take one down?” Pauel fought back.

  Raine swallowed what was left of his oatmeal.

  “Are we ready to go?” Pauel asked.

  “Sure thing! Let me grab my stuff.”

  A couple of minutes later, Raine was outside. His new axe strapped tightly to his back, over the top of his heavy, green woollen jacket.

  His Father followed. Pauel was a tall and sturdy man with broad shoulders. His square jawline was clean shaven, the hazel of his hair interspersed with deeper shades of brown, always kept trim.

  They walked briskly through the town.

  The streets were filled with the routine hustle and bustle. Preparations for the festival had also begun. The streets were being thoroughly cleaned, and a small stage was being built on the terrace next to the bell tower.

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  Children chased each other up and down the cobblestones, occasionally bumping into passers-by. The residents didn’t mind though; the incoming festivities had put everyone in good mood.

  “Morning, Sir Hensley! Morning, young master!” People called, greeting them. They had quite an honourable standing amongst townsfolk; being a Lumberjack was a very respected profession.

  The Silver fir lay about a five-minute walk outside the town. As soon as they arrived, Raine immediately began clearing the smaller twigs and branches, whilst Pauel sawed through the thicker appendages. Two hours passed in a breeze, and they moved onto the trunk.

  The fir had fallen onto a large boulder, situated on a shallow slope. The felled tree was massive in girth, and four times as long. It took another three hours of steady work until the sun had reached its highest point.

  Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Raine leaned heavily on his axe beneath the cloudless sky.

  “Sit down for a bit.” His Father encouraged.

  Raine’s focus snapped back to the tree. “Oh, no. No, I’m good to keep going.”

  “Well, you might be, but I could use a minute. I’m not as young as I used to be you know.”

  Raine gave him a small smile, then nodded in agreement. He reached for the canteen of water and took a sip.

  “This isn’t that bad, you know?” He said.

  Pauel looked at him curiously.

  “It can be quite exhausting, but there’s no better way to calm your mind than this.”

  “I know boy, I’ve been doing this for over thirty years.” Pauel stated.

  Raine chuckled as he lay on his back, arms and legs spread. “Do you think I’ll ever manage to get that tree down?”

  “The ol’ Ash?”

  “It’s just been so long, and I’ve barely made any progress. Sometimes I feel it's growing faster than I’m cutting through it.”

  “That’s because it is.” Pauel explained, eyes gleaming. “Do you know why it’s called the world tree?”

  Without a word, Raine sat up and turned to his father.

  “Well, to start, it’s not really your everyday Ash. Guess you came to that conclusion on your own as well after seeing its rapid growth. Have I ever explained how pollination works?” He continued when his son nodded. “My father told me stories of an ancient tree that once existed somewhere in Gaea. Its size was said to rival that of even the tallest mountains. It was considered a holy tree, and if it were ever to fall, the world as we know it would collapse.”

  “Did it fall?” Raine asked.

  “Yeah, it fell during the ancient war. According to the stories at least.”

  “But the world did not end.” Raine pointed out, stretching his legs.

  “Well, I personally believe the holy tree is symbolic. It depicts life and represents the world we live in and, its ever-changing nature. Even if a great tree like that should fall, the earth would quickly give birth to new life.” He levelled his gaze at his young son. “I think it can be a lesson for all of us.”

  Raine waited for his father to continue, toying with the hilt of his axe.

  “We must be flexible, willing to change with the circumstances so that we can adapt to the environment around us. Even a boy…” Pauel coughed, clearing his throat. “…a man like yourself has the strength to cut down any obstacle that the world may place in front of you. All you have to do is find the strength within you.”

  Raine took a moment, mulling over his father’s words then steeled himself, rising back to his feet with newfound vitality. Then his brow furrowed.

  “What does this have to do with pollination?”

  “Oh, right! That’s what this was all about.” Pauel snorted, patting his stomach. “Think about it. The tree’s pollen still exists to this day, carried across the lands by the wind. I’d wager that Ol’ Ash is one of those offspring.”

  The young Lumberjack had always thought of the world trees as a magical, mystical things. Now, with his father’s story to motivate him, his desire to cut down the Ash and leave his own mark on the world, just like the holy tree, had his fingers clutching his axe with conviction.

  Pauel watched him carefully, then shook his head with a grin. “I think I can wrap things up here. Meadowcove’s quite the walk, just be sure to return in time for lunch.”

  “Really?” Raine hopped up the slope, a spring in his step.

  “Remember what I always tell you. Don’t just swing with your arms, swing with your chest!”

  Raine hadn’t been this excited over something in a long time. He bent to catch his breath in the shadow of the Ash tree, hand vibrating around his axe.

  It was a behemoth of a tree even by his standards, reaching twenty-five metres in height, its canopy loomed over half the area. It stood on the forest edge, surrounded by nothing but tall grass for fifty metres. A lone King on this patch of land.

  Raine could see the dent he’d made over the last five months. The bark had already begun rounding up along the edges, slowly curving inward, as if closing a wound.

  As always, he took a moment to admire the tree, the damp earth tickled his nose as it travelled along the slight breeze, rustling the leaves.

  With a wide grin, he begun chopping into the Ash. The sounds ricocheted throughout the forest, every swing like hitting stone with a mallet.

  An hour passed and he’d made almost no visible progress.

  “Swing.” Chop. “With.” Chop. “Your.” Chop. “Chest.” He let out a frustrated groan. “Easier said than done. How am I supposed to get anything done if I can’t use my strength?” He stopped, chest heaving.

  He braced himself against the giant Ash, eyes on the floor. “There must be more to this than my father is telling me.” He moved back to swing again. Then again.

  Another deep breath, puffing up his chest up and swinging hard. His axe landed with a residual thwack. He paused, looking at the new dent he’d just made. It hadn’t just sounded different; it had felt different.

  “So, there is a secret behind all of this.”

  He changed his approach, pulling deep into his lungs between every swing. The axe forged deeper, though there was still no visible progress.

  Another two swings and a warmth pulsed inside his chest. At first, he shrugged it off as exhaustion, yet it wasn’t followed by sore muscles or aching lungs. If anything, the warmth felt calming.

  Thwack.

  Suddenly, he felt mighty. “Is it just in my head?”

  Thwack.

  “How does one-.” Thwack. “-Reach for something-.” Thwack. “-That’s inside of them.”

  He hit the tree at a bad angle, causing the axe to bounce off and vibrate in his hands with a jarring thud.

  “Ah! I give up.” He cried out, tossing himself on the ground.

  “Even someone like me has the strength…” He repeated his Father’s words, voice raspy with fatigue. “Do I, though?”

  The allure of the cold breeze beneath the shadow of the canopy was too much to resist. Raine’s eyes grew heavy, his consciousness drifting till he heard a voice.

  “And here I thought I’d warn you not to push yourself too much.” Pauel jested.

  “Uhm, I just needed to sit down for a minute.” Raine rubbed his eyes with dry knuckles.

  Pauel laughed. “For a minute, you say. You were snoring so much I thought you had a bear helping you.”

  Raine flushed. “How come you’re here anyway?”

  “I got the log home and figured you’d lose track of time. So, I came to pick you up for lunch.”

  “How long has it been since I left?”

  “Just over four hours.”

  I must’ve really dozed off then. Raine thought. His body ached, hands raw and numb.

  He grabbed his axe and slowly stood, releasing a pained grunt.

  “How’s the progress?” His Father admired the visible scarring Raine had cut into the sturdy tree.

  “Well… I think I figured out what you mean by using your chest.”

  “Oh, did you now?” Pauel raised a brow.

  Raine glanced at his father’s amused expression, then quietly muttered to himself.

  “Apparently not…”

  “Don’t fret. It’ll come to you.” Pauel encouraged with a hearty laugh.

  “There was something, though. A strange warmth in my chest I’d never felt before. It put me at ease.”

  Pauel let out a loud whistle and stood proud.

  “You might not be far off finding your strength after all.”