This time, the wood didn’t split all the way through. So he put one boot on it and pulled the axe out, then dropped it to the ground. He walked around, inspecting the log. I held my breath in anticipation of what he’d do next. I never could have predicted that he’d pick the damn thing up, wedge his fingers into the crack left by his axe, and pull. But fuck, that’s exactly what he did. Every muscle in his body strained with the effort, his biceps rippling as he pulled as hard as he could. With a roar, he tore the fucking log in half.
