I came up close to the Woodsman, alarmed at his exertion and the toll it was taking on him. He spoke as he labored, and I listened to him, hearing things I’d never heard, things I’d never thought of—about himself, about me, about the meaning of life. “I offer a joy that will cost you everything you have, but gain you everything that matters.” What did he mean?

“You have fallen short and a terrible price must be paid.” I backed away from him, troubled. Was he saying I was at fault for all this? How dare he blame me?

I couldn’t explain how a man of normal size could reach into the center of a tree with a diameter ten times larger than his height and continue to swing a sword against it. Nor could I explain why his sword did not break or dull. But I saw it nonetheless, with my own skeptic’s eyes.

“Can I help you?” I asked him.

“No,” he said, eyes lonesome. “You can’t.”

Why wouldn’t he accept my help? Did he think I had nothing to offer? That I wasn’t good enough for him?

He cut on that tree all day and through a long lonely night. I sipped senaba juice from my bottle but ate nothing. I dozed on and off, feeling useless but intrigued by his actions and his words.

In the morning, with one great thrash of his sword, the whole tree wobbled. I ran back, looking up, watching its movement and realizing I couldn’t outrun its fall. I moved back and forth, uncertainly, hoping to position myself in the safest place. While I settled on the east side of the tree, the Woodsman stood motionless with a dusky expression, staring at it.

As I watched, he pushed the tree with his right hand, toward the west. It tipped slowly and eerily before gravity grabbed it and began to slam it downward. Mesmerized by the awesome sight, I felt relieved it wasn’t going to crush me.

The great tree fell. When it hit the ground, it exploded with what seemed the force of a nuclear warhead. I flew into the air and landed facedown, sprawled on the ground.

The Woodsman lay in a heap, sweating, exhausted, his veins bulging, his worn clothes stained crimson.

Then he stood. He looked across the expanse, to the other side of the chasm, and walked to the base of the fallen tree.

But … why was the tree still there? Why didn’t it do what I had expected and plummet into the chasm? It had landed crosswise. This could only mean … its top had reached the far edge of the chasm! Impossible as it seemed, the great tree lay on both sides of the abyss.

The Woodsman slowly took off his sandals and set them on the ground.