Emberwood it becomes a dance

Sitting there scratching at the annoying thing around his neck, Anselm had been struck by an idea.

As it turned out, the idea didn’t serve him very well and twice had nearly killed him. His line of thinking was wedge the fallen log of alder under the leather — or whatever it was — around his neck. What he failed to account for was it getting lodged in there, at times nearly choking him.

A week later he’d managed to free himself from the latter, but the former still hung firm around his throat. Skinnier and worse for wear, Anselm was tracking for easy game when a loud — and almost anxious — call broke over the woodland.

Irritated to see the turkey he’d been stalking take to the trees, Anselm set upon finding this screaming individual, if only to confirm the lay of the land before continuing his search for Etienne.