What had once been a towering stack of neatly split logs was now reduced to a few stragglers, barely enough to keep the fire going through the day. Henry rubbed his hands together, his breath forming puffs of mist.
He couldn’t remember burning through the wood so quickly, but there was no use complaining about it now. The storm wouldn’t wait, and neither could he. “Guess it’s time to get to work,” he said to no one in particular.