Mithrun takes the sheet, holding it up neatly by two corners as he eyes the nearest marked tree. "Stand clear."

He whisks the sheet upward, at an angle, and casts. The sheet reappears embedded diagonally in the trunk, replaced by a thin ellipse of freshly-extracted wood that falls at Mithrun's feet. Mithrun steps over it, going to retrieve the bedsheet... or, at least, to take hold of an edge of it and pull, as the tree trunk creaks and slides down the slanted cut.

...Yeah, that thing is soaked in sap, isn't it. Perfect for holding onto splinters.