Of Handsaws and Hollow Logs

Paetra slipped the toe of her boot beneath a hollow log and nudged it over. Bending down with some trepidation, she turned her head to the left and right, searching for any disturbance in the vegetation that might signal her being observed. A bird rustled nearby, before chirping and switching to a new branch; however, despite this small movement the picture remained undisturbed, and Paetra allowed herself to relax. She smiled languidly at the bird and murmured under her breath that if it shat on her she would make it into a snack. The bird chirped on, unaware of the death threat it had just received.

Squatting down with a grunted exhalation, Paetra shrugged off her satchel. In one fluid motion she extracted one of the two knives she had brought with her on her short expedition into the more deeply wooded portion of the forest. The blade she held in her hand was edged like a saw, slightly curved, and perfect for the task at hand. 
     
       With a steady hand she worked at separating a good half metre of the log from the rest of it. Silently, she thanked the gods that she had found a hollow log. Solid wood would not be so forgiving on her tired muscles. After hours of drills and sweaty, odoriferous soldiers she had needed some alone time. 

Paetra grinned down at the cut piece and considered what she might do with it. In all likelihood she would just make another stool. Her fellow guardsmen were beginning to discuss theories as to whether helpful spirits might be leaving them gifts as they slept, and a few of them were leaving offerings of food on one of the stools each night. It took all she had for Paetra to keep her silence when she heard this, but the extra rations were worth it.
 
Slowly, a mischievous smile crossed her face. Using the edge of her knife, she carved, "We extend our gratitude for the offerings, but next time, remember to leave out the leeks."

Paetra straightened up and grinned at her work, before remembering that when she worked on the stool, she would have to file off the message along with the bark and rot. 
"Scheiße," she hissed, cursing. She shook her head. "What am I getting mad about? I can do it again," she thought. She eyed the wood appreciatively. "However, that took a long time, and it looks gorgeous."

In reality, it wasn't too exceptional,  if not a bit rustic in nature. However, Paetra had always been one to offer encouragement to herself.

"Yeah, I'm not goin' through that again," she drawled in her accented Elvish. She shrugged before slipping the knife back into her satchel and pulling the bag over her shoulder. She crouched down and lifted the piece of log, shifting her weight to better grip it. As she adjusted her weight however, her satchel shifted with her. Slowly, with all of the weight concentrated on one side, she began to tip over.

"Scheiße, Scheiße, Sheiße!" She squealed as she began to fall.