The smell of wood shavings was gone.
For Anton, who had been a cooper in Steinbach Town for half his life, this was more unsettling than the rising price of grain.
The fresh scent of oak, the smell of shavings, the rusty tang of iron hoops—these should have been part of his life. Now, only a lingering atmosphere of panic filled the workshop.
His tools hung neatly on the wall, polished to a shine, but they hadn't been touched by fresh sawdust in three days.
The oak forest outside of town was sealed off by the lord's guards, and no one dared to enter. Merchant caravans no longer came and went, and he had lost all his orders.
"Anton, what on earth are you thinking?"
The voice of his wife, Martha, came from the doorway. She was carrying a bowl of gruel so thin you could see your reflection in it. Her once round, full face now seemed sharp and angular, as if carved away by anxiety.
