Brooklyn tossed her hair over her sweat soaked shoulders as she cursed the log in front of her. She’d been trying to chop it in half for the past five minutes and all she’d accomplished was wood chips in her eyes and a sore back and arms.
This looked so much easier in the movies. Where was Captain America when you needed him. The man could just pull the logs apart with his bare hands.
She couldn’t even put a dent in the log. The damn thing wouldn’t hold still for her to chop it. It kept rolling away or the axe would get stuck in it.
It was a good thing she was in the middle of nowhere and no one saw her complete and utter failure at chopping wood. Drake would just use this against her as another reason she belonged in the city and not in the wilderness.
Maybe she should have tried
