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the way they always do, When you're ridin' sixteen hours
And there's nothin' much to do
The man sighed, drawing his horses to a halt. It just wouldn't be easy, would it? No, of course not.
The line was drawn, right there in the air as plain as a fence across his past. True this line was far less tangible, but no easier to ignore. He had traveled the couple days' journey from Freetown to where he now sat in his wagon, Sunny and Speck in their traces in front of him, with a load of miscellaneous lumber behind. He'd found a fairly straight stretch of 'road' to drive his wagon along. Only to be hindered by a pack border.
Under normal circumstances, Asgeir would not have minded the presence of a pack. On the contrary -- he traded with packs, on a regular basis. But normally he'd have had time to make a few larger items, a table and chairs, for example, or a shelf, to have offered. Now... He had but the smaller items that he could easily make during travel, which would trade, but not show off his skill and get him future customers. Still, it couldn't be helped. To his left there rose a mountain, and to the right he could see a lake. He had no way of knowing how big a body of water it was, or if a passable trail existed beyond it. It could not be helped.
Grumbling to himself, Asgeir collected a smallish chunk of pinewood, a knife, and a small leather case from the back, laid his spear against the seat next to himself, and sat back to wait. Someone would be by, eventually. While he waited, he unrolled the leather to produce several wooden-handled chisels, tucked into pockets. He'd traded for the chisels at some point in his journeys, though the existing handles had been in bad shape, and simply replaced the torn up plastic with self-carved wood. He took one of the larger blades, running his fingers over it to check for blemishes in the steel.
Finding none, he eyed the wood with his good, left eye (the right was covered by a scrap of plaid cloth he'd found), found the grain, and set the chisel against it to split the wood along its grain, using the end of his knife as a hammer. The chisel went back into the case, and the knife went to work, beginning a roughly oblong shape that could be formed into one of many animals.
You just wish the trip was through
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