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n the morning, you can faintly hear the cracking of his ax as it strikes down on the mightiest of rounds. Beyond twilight, you can see the ghostly glow of his eternal fire sputtering on any town’s horizon. He calls us from our dilapidated every-days, our melancholic 9-5’s, our metropolitan tombs, and brings us to a land of looming Firs with stars so close that they can be tasted. His bearded smile greets us from a floating hammock—a young man with eyes older than the forest. Although the last of his kind, the mountain man lives on, gathering stories and tucking them away in his eternal fire of lore. Many assume that such characters only lurk in legends, tales to be told around campfires. However, few know otherwise… …that is, the few who have met Austin Iles.
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