That's how we end up chopping wood.
Marlow lines up a log on the stump to chop wood, acting for all the world like he's a master lumberjack. He swings, and the axe misses the log completely, hitting against the stump with a dull thwack.
He lets out a sheepish laugh, glancing over at me. "Just kidding. That was only a warm up." Sure it was. "Here it comes."
He concentrates this time as he takes aim. His muscles flex as he draws back the axe, his focus intense. The axe sails through the air, veering off-course and hitting nothing, several inches to the left of the stump.
I snort, trying to stifle my laughter.
"Shut up. I’ll get the hang of it eventually," he vows.
Except he doesn’t.
Marlow swings with all the finesse of a toddler hopped up on pixie sticks. Not that a toddler should be playing with an axe. Maybe the demon shouldn’t either.
The axe whips through the air with so much power on the next swing that it ends up propelling him forward as he struggles to regain control. He whiffs and whiffs, body swinging around with the axe, and I have to raise my eyes to the treetops and pretend they're extremely interesting when he glances my way so that he doesn't see me cracking up and try using the weapon against me.
Not that he'd be able to actually land a hit.
One swing comes precariously close to his own foot.
Marlow soon wages an all-out war against his mortal enemy, the log and the stump it rests on. With the worst form in the world, the demon charges with the axe raised and finally manages to land a blow. A tiny sliver of wood chips off the corner of the log, and he lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "There, see? Told you I'd get the hang of it."
That small piece of wood is completely useless, but Marlow drops the axe by the stump and relaxes like it's a job well done. As amusing as this was, I have a feeling he's never going to attempt this again. That's one more chore he's absolutely no help with.
"Maybe my hand-eye coordination isn’t as stellar as video games have led me to believe," he concedes. "Why do we even need wood? Isn’t fire a dead giveaway?"
"We can give it a rest for now,” I say, hoping he doesn’t ask again.
“Wynn, why are we chopping wood right now?”
The jig is up.
"Look, I know how to hide evidence of a fire, so we may be able to light one later when there’s something to cook.” Butmainly I was trying to keep him busy. “You keep destroying everything in the cabin.”
Marlow made up a game to keep himself busy. A terrible game.
"Not everything," he protests immediately. "Just the ugly things." As if that's any better. "With no TV, no internet, and a woefully boring selection of books, our entertainment options are kinda limited."
"What about being free? Isn’t being free instead of in a cell a very fun and meaningful activity?" I give him a pointed smile, making it clear he better be damn grateful for the freedom I worked so hard to provide.
"It's awesome," he agrees, "but not the answer to boredom."
He isn't exactly wrong, so I don't argue as we head inside. I love the forest and easily spend more time here than I ever have in the communal and habitable areas for the pack. But the wild forest around us is a lot harder to appreciate when you start focusing on all the twigs and leaves and patches of dirt and how easy it is to accidentally leave a trail behind.
Speaking of leaving a trail, I make sure nothing looks disturbed when we're done, so Marlow makes it back to the cabin ahead of me. He hands me a pillow when I arrive. "Here, why don’t you play 'Break Things With the Other Thing'? It's fun."
I shove away his hand. "I'm not going to start breaking shit."
"Good, that's against the rules. You need to usea thingto break theother things."
"No."
That's the game he made up. Throwing things at other things and destroying items in the cabin.
"Don't you want to see if you can beat my high score?" he wonders, trying to bait me.
I roll my eyes. "I'm a werewolf, and your high score is two. It's not exactly a challenge."
