Cliver took the blade of the axe out of it's sheath. In contrast to his shabby appearance the blade of that axe is a masterpiece. It shines even in the fading sunlight like it's plated with silver, and all along the blade is an intricate depiction of a tree worked right into the metal. It didn't look like an axe that had ever once tasted wood and, to anyone magically inclined, radiated enchantment. 

"I'll set the fires up. Clover?" He asked. "Can you tell me if any of these fallen trees have any of your people living in them? I'm afraid I need to cut them up."