in the woods [aya] [blitz]

The rhythmic thwack. thwack. thwack. reverberates off what seems to be every rock and tree and building for acres, and given both a) the impending project deadline, and b) the way that, as a novice carpenter's apprentice, John seemed only to generate more work for the shop's other occupants (somehow, every other cut he's made in the past week has been met with tired silence, followed by a resigned sigh, followed by "Tell you what — here's how we can fix this." all before he's realized that he's done anything wrong), it was a given that he'd be sent to investigate.

He doesn't know these woods nearly as well — doesn't know the neighbors or the wildlife, or which of the two most likely wants him dead — and he can't help wishing that he had better backup than the chisel shoved in his pocket, but here he is, doing his absolute best not to startle a stranger armed with an axe.

"Hey," he hollers, still ten meters away, tucking his hands further into his coat pockets. He hits the seams. "That's not your maple that you're hacking up. It's on our —" The word slips out like a bad habit, but there is no our. He may work out this way on most days and stay the occasional night in the living room or in the shop, but John Wood, Jr. does not own anything. He clears his throat and points down the trail. "The property line's about a quarter mile that way."

Settling himself down on a nearby log, he crosses his legs and leans back, as though acting at ease will make him feel that way. "Can't chop that one down."