In the rain, pattering, the wood cutter felled another tree. His soggy hat, fur lined interior, checkered red exterior, and worn with time, was pulled tight over his head. His two day stubble, dark but spattered with bit of grey protruded defiantly from his face.<br/><br/>He looked up at the gap in the sky he'd left. He took a moment to enjoy the mist upon his face. Then, he turned his chainsaw to the log at his feet. He cut it into rounds two feet long a piece. These, he rolled to his truck before removing his chaps, and stashing his saw in the cab of his truck.<br/><br/>The edge of his axe shined in the glow of his newly lit head lamp. He brushed saw dust from his dark green rain jacket. He began to split the rounds and load them neatly onto his trailer, three quarters full now after a day's work, hitched to the back of his beaten, blue 1983 gmc truck.<br/><br/>His breath came out in clouds about his head.