At first, the teeth are stuck in the bark, and she can’t move the saw back and forth. Then, when she doesn’t dig the teeth deep enough, the saw slides to the side and cuts nothing. With a small huff, she repositions herself. The saw glides in. She makes a few movements where the teeth dig in properly, and her lips curve just a little. She’s doing it.

Her hair shifts on her shoulders as she uses all her strength to saw the tree. Her face is turning red, hat tilting on top of her head, but she doesn’t stop. She’s a girl on a mission.

It looks like she’s doing good, yet something’s off. I don’t know if it’s her position or the way she holds the saw or the strength she’s using. She looks unsteady with each movement.

A second later, I learn what’s wrong. Her balance.

With one harsh movement, she jerks the saw back, but she doesn’t use the right amount of force, and with the way she’s leaning back on her legs, everything goes to hell and she falls on her butt, the saw flying off somewhere behind her, her whole body spread like a snow angel on the ground.

I try, I really fucking try, to keep it together, but in the end, I fail.

I lose it.

“Stop it,” she mutters through her teeth, not bothering to get up. Maybe she got the wind knocked out of her when she fell, but I’m laughing too hard to check on her.

“Was there someone back there you wanted to behead?” I say between two bouts of laughter.

She grunts.

“Be right back, I’ll go grab my chain mail.”

“I hate you,” she says stoically, never moving from her star-shaped position.

That only makes me laugh harder.

“Please leave me here to die,” she says. There’s snow all over her head, and with the way she’s positioned, there’s probably some that’s seeped into the collar of her—well, my—coat.

I sigh happily, then squat over her and extend my hand. “Come on.”

She closes her eyes. “I said leave.”

“Not a chance.” When she still doesn’t move, I say, “Come on, I’ll show you how to do it the proper way.”

As I thought it would, that gets her eyes to open. “I can do it by myself.”

“Sure you can.”

“Are you always this annoying?”

I answer with an oversized grin.

With a groan, she takes my extended hand and climbs to her feet. Once she’s up, she dusts snow off her coat and pants. I work on the parts of her back she missed.

“All right, let’s go,” I say.

“I said I don’t need your help.”