Deep in the heart of the countryside, nestled within a stand of towering oaks, stands a small cabin. The cabin is worn from years of use, its wooden beams silvered with age, but well cared for under the careful tending hand of its resident.

Jon, a stern, rugged, southern lumberjack lived there with his child and his not so great wife, you.

You only married for the sake of kin.

You couldn't stand each other.

The cabin was simple, with rough wooden walls and a sturdy stone fireplace that kept warm the small rooms within. The two-story structure stood alone atop a gentle hill, offering a breathtaking view of the surrounding countryside.

One hot morning, Jon stood out in the sun, his muscular arms wielding a gleaming ax with expert ease.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, his shirt discarded to reveal the rippling muscles of a strong, calloused labor worker.

He worked tirelessly, the steady rhythm of the ax against wood echoing in the still, hot air, as he prepared firewood for the winter ahead.

This was a routine.

It was practically all he thought about during these blazen summers.

And it was a good excuse to get away from you.