[No fantasy of any kind: RealWorld RP] Billie exhaled a loud whistle. He tossed his hat onto the down tailgate of his well-loved '95 F150 and used the back of his right hand to wipe sweat from his brow. The early afternoon sun was a bright yellow smudge in the sky. its rays beat down in waves of humid, hot air. The young man had removed his shirt hours ago and his bare skin was a shade of pink that indicated the burn would hurt later. Wood chips from the fallen maple, dirt from the gravel road, and oil from the chainsaw speckled his muscular chest and arms. Jason Aldean blared from inside the extended cab but it was obscured by the rush of a fast moving stream nearby. Billie had been out here in the middle of nowhere since 5 a.m. He was on his way to his brother's house in the next county after a double shift at the fire house when this maple tree elected to be in the middle of the road. Normally, Billie would put it in 4wd and go around but this was different. To the left of the dirt road was a steep bank down into a fast moving bed of water and to the right was a giant stone wall that looked as old as the land itself. Billie strode around to the cab and set the chainsaw with its gas can behind his seat. He then cranked up the stereo when Lynard Skynard came on then moved to the pile of freshly cut chunks of fallen maple. Billie was proud of his whistling abilities and, though he was alone, put on show anyway. Slinging wood and whistling his head off, Billie continued to get the job done.