The wooden posts that made up the fences that lined the streets of Mineral Town were very, very prone to splintering. Chase had found this out the hard way after sitting on one in his free time, relaxing on the street by the Blacksmiths' and the chicken farm. He had leaned his palm against the post, and immediately pulled back, seeing a sliver of wood just beneath the surface of his skin, which was blooming an angry shade of red.
"Ouch," he said, surprised. It hurt, and he started to pick at the invader with his rather short fingernails.