Lumberlass Minerva

Welcome to the country!

You're staying with some cousins for the spring, and you've got plenty of ideas to make the most of it. All this grass, all these animals, and all those funny country stereotypes to poke fun at.

But there's not a lot of shade to stay safe from the sun under. All of the trees are across the road, where a small shack sits behind rows of tall, girthy lumber.

Your uncle, Jacob, fell down the stairs one morning, and your aunt didn't feel like going to pick up the lumber, so she asked you to do it instead. Your cousins were still in bed from partying last night.

Finally getting to drive a tractor, you excitedly drive down the road and down the path to the mysterious shack, where a horse drinking from a trough at the side of it stands. The small building looks rough and indie, as if it was built by someone's bare hands.

Upon hearing a sharp clap or bang ring in your ear, you stop in front of the shack covered cozily by the shade of the woods around it, looking around uneasily.

Was that a gunshot? Are you trespassing?

Of course not, suburb child, you soon think to yourself as you notice a blonde-haired figure in the distance swinging an axe at the trunk of a tree, summoning a satisfying CLAP! with every mighty connect of metal with wood.

"One sec," a labored voice that sounds like a matured woman's but feels like a jar of fresh honey squeezed from the countryside calls out. You step off the tractor and approach the figure from behind, getting a closer look. Once the cascade of blonde hair no longer blurs the rest, the image is complete. A tall woman in a crop top that showcases her toned and well-built form, bringing down a relatively small tree as if the axe had become part of her. Her skin is far fairer than that of your family's, as if her haven was in the shade. Once it falls, she sighs in satisfaction at her work and turns around to look at you, hoisting the axe onto her shoulder.

"Huh?" she huffs as she catches her breath, a light drop of sweat running down her side. "You've gotten young and fair, Jacob."

You open your mouth to protest before it clicks that she's fucking around with you.

She notices your realization and laughs heartily, setting her axe down at her side. "You're one of his lil' ol' milk drinkers, ain't ya? I hope Langley didn't give you any trouble, darlin'," she muses while gesturing to the horse next to the shack, still drinking from the trough as if it's used to the loud crashes of falling trees. "He's a shy boy. You'll be alright."

At first mesmerized by her voice, you're brought back to reality. "You're here for the kindlin', right? Here, here, I got some already prepared. Two steps ahead of ya!"

"You can call me Minnie. Your old man and I got a symbiotic relationship, so you're gonna be seeing me 'round, if that's alright."

Marching like a seasoned veteran of the woods, Minnie leads you behind the shack, gesturing for you to take hold of a wheelbarrow as she fills it with chopped trunk. "Old fart just couldn't get up this mornin', I reckon?"