Woodsie Woodsie Die Woodsie got up.
With heavy steps he approached the
great tree, picked up the tomahawk and held it in his blackened
hands. The rain kept falling in the jungle, soaking everything in
a murky veil. Echoes of thunder came from the distance, as white
cracks of light formed on the horizon. He loosened his grip on the
tomahawk and let it slide down in his hand. It fell with a thud and
hammered the ground with its weight.