| the high road home | kou

{Nothing can be explained}

You'd think that I'd grow tired of the constant sound; thump, thump, thump. It's a constant symphony, a repeated sound that constantly seems to vibrate through my ears. Thump, thump, thump. I get used to it, the sound of an axe hitting wood and therefore splitting it. Splinters flying all over the place, wood collapsing on the ground. It's a constant, rhythm and that's all I know now. Thump, thump, thump. It's like a song that I can't get enough of, constantly there and never ending. Thump, thump, thump. So why am I not tired of it? If anything it's almost enjoyable.

Thump, thump, thump.

Fucking hell my arms are screaming. The remnants of summer are flickering on and off, like the remaining embers of a once raging fire. Small but still dangerous. The sun should be dead, hell the sun is dying and yet it still reminds me of the good scorching it gave me during August. The sun never really dies and summer always finds a way to get a last peak before retreating. That's why I'm sweating like a dying pig. All of this exercise is only aggravating me, making me sweat even more but it's easier to ignore. Just focus on the sound, thump, thump thump. The log is still thick but I'm making my way through it, me and this trusty axe are already half way through and we ain't gonna stop till we can say this is our fifth log of the day.

One second it's a log then the next second it's my father's skull. It's a constant rotation to be honest, when the log is a skull I hit harder and faster, when I realize it's just a stupid log I relax. It's a morphing entity in my mind and that's what makes hitting it even more bearable. Right now it's jug a log and I'm slowly but surly splitting it in half. I can't afford to slack off despite the fact the peacekeepers aren't looking, no, I just need to deal with the fact my muscles are disintegrating and my mouth is a dessert.

Still, it's better than being cold I guess and the fresh air is nice.

If I'm being perfectly honest in all my years of living in the forest and gathering firewood to make fires in the winter I've never had to hold an axe this big and split a log this thick. Thump. With a rough grunt the axe buries itself in the log and I take a glance around me to take note of what's going on around me. Everyone is doing their part, hitting logs like no man's business. Some are hitting faster than others but those are just the strong guys, the guys that are past reaping age and have been doing this for years. To be honest, the thought of doing this for the rest of my life isn't too depressing. However, when I check behind me I spot someone I didn't think I'd see all day.

Otis. She looks upset.

It's like a magnet, an automatic attraction that stops me from lifting the axe to bring it down for a second stroke. Instead I leave the axe buried in the log and walk over to her. The peacekeepers aren't staring at us like before when we first started work. This is what allows me to step in my sister's path and effectively cut her off. "What's wrong?" I ask.

{Nothing can be explained}

Once again it would seem that I'm just being paranoid; I'm being too watchful, too alert and not focused enough on my job. I should be cutting, cutting, cutting. She smiles at me and I can't help but return the favour. That's the thing with my sister's smile, she seems to rarely smile these days but when she does it's infectious; you have to smile back. It's look a disease (a really good disease) and her smiles lights up the mood instantly. It's not that I want to smile back at her, I have to smile back because that's just what her smile does, even if it's only a small passing smile.

"Where are you working?" She asks me. The only indication I give is by nodding towards the abandoned axe that's left embedded in the huge trunk. The sight of it makes my arms ache and my shoulders scream. I've done so much and I have so much left to do. That's the thing with stopping, once you stop it's almost impossible to start again because your momentum is gone, the rhythm is dead. Trying to start it up again is a fucking nightmare. "Slacking off are we now? That tree aint going to cut itself." She teases. I can't help but laugh at that obvious jab.

She prods me in the shoulder and it hurts but I ignore it. It's just pain. Complaining won't make it go away, I learned that a long time ago; pain will always be there, it's about how you deal with it. She walks past me and goes to my half finished job. Does she really think that she can finish that? Looking back at it I probably should've picked a skinnier trunk that might take me the rest of the day to do but I wasn't thinking. I just went for the biggest one and picked it.

"You choose a big one, who are you trying to impress?" She asks in another teasing way and I only raise my eyebrows.

"Myself." I reply almost automatically. When Otis asks a question you pretty much have to say the truth, it's impossible for me to lie to her, even if it ain't a serious question.

"I bet I could get through the rest of hat trunk." She challenges and now it's my turn to laugh. It's not a fake or forced laugh, it's a genuine laugh because that's real big and ambitious coming from someone who looked almost half dead a second ago. I know how to cut stuff with an axe, even before the job I did it plenty of times in order to get firewood. Hell, I could go as far as to say I would probably finish this trunk today, Otis I can't exactly say the same thing.

Still, I'm in hysterics, laughing like a hyena before I decide to reply to her challenge. I point to the axe. "You're welcome to try." I tell her. "Go on, let's see who does it better you or me." I tell her. I walk over and get a new axe and a skinny log and set it on the table next to her, just so it looks like I'm doing something and the peacekeepers don't call me out.

"Come on, I would love to see you try." I challenge, grinning before nodding towards the axe.

Nothing's wrong...