It was completely light out when Benj woke. He was still tired, and the air was still hard to get enough of. A number of places on his body hurt from sleeping without a bed mat, so he stood up and started working the stiffness out of his joints. He decided that the faster he got off the mountain, the better. A thought struck him. Why should he bother climbing down when he could probably just jump.

He found a straight path and tested to see if he still had his new abilities or if it was some weird hallucination. He still had them. With a foggy mind, he became resolute with his plan. He opened his pack, took out his cooking pan, threw it into the mists below, and then discarded anything else heavy in the bag. He took a deep breath and soaked in his surroundings one last time. He ran towards the edge and then stopped at the last moment.

"This is a bad idea," he said to himself, turning to find a clear path. Except, there wasn't a clear path down. The shallow path he had been taking dropped off in every direction. He turned and looked up where he came from. It would be a long hike back up to find another path down. Exasperated, he took off his pack and looked inside. The only thing heavy he had left was his water, so he dumped the rest of it. Finally satisfied that his pack was light enough, he took in his surroundings one last time, took a deep breath, and jumped.

The ground fell away as he rushed over it. The pressure change made his ears pop, and the wind threatened to freeze him mid-air. Benj was afraid to shift position in case it caused him to fall. He had experimented with it on the mountain, but nothing to this degree. He didn't want to learn anything the hard way.

The ground was the farthest it had ever been from him. He had never been afraid of heights, but probably because he had never seen them with this magnitude. The view was breathtaking and terrifying as he flew through the juxtaposition of earth and air.

The ground started closing in, and Benj wasn't expecting to have been going so fast. Rivers and trees passed him underfoot. He leaned left to avoid a tall tree and maneuvered around it. He was close to the ground now. He leaned back so his flight path nearly paralleled the ground. A bush swiped at his shoes before he contacted soil and gravel. His feet slid violently on the ground for a long stretch before he hit a mud hole, causing him to roll forward on a patch of grass.

Benj lay there, sprawled out in grass and sunlight. "That wasn't so bad," he told himself. The sound of birds singing and a throbbing pain in his whole body reminded him that he was still alive. He slowly sat up and checked for damage. Despite having more than a couple of sore areas on his body and some pretty impressive thrashings on his arms and legs, he made it out completely unscathed, considering he had just jumped off the side of a mountain.

He gauged how far he had come. It looked like he was less than a half-day walk from home. He stood up, adjusted the broken shoulder strap on his travel pack, and set out at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Benj limped through the gates of his village, sore and hurting. All he wanted to do was take a hot bath, eat a hot meal, and lie down. But he couldn't yet. The bell in the middle of town had two purposes: To alert the town in the case of an emergency and, in Benj's case, to alert the town at the end of the traditional Asven Trek. The ringing of the bell was a symbol that he was old enough to be a valuable member of the village, fend off attackers, and help during the event of a casualty.

He put his hand on the thick, woven rope and rang it two good times, nothing extravagant. Other boys had wildly rung the bell for half a minute in the past, alerting a crossed-armed and, quite frankly, cross village. He would not be one of those.

The bell rang out loud and true, and within moments, the whole village was starting to come out and gather around the bell. Finally, Mayor Hagan walked out with a considerably large ale horn. Benj had almost forgotten about this part. He was to make a toast and drink until it was gone. The horn was as long as his arm and filled to the brim.

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen," Mayor Hagen said, calming the sea of mumbles. "A few days ago, we said goodbye to one of our boys, and today, a man returned. He has finished the Asven Trek and the hike to the top. But, as tradition states, there's one last thing that he must do... he has to say his piece and then empty the horn!" the mayor handed the horn to Benj.

"Go on then," he said.

Benj cleared his throat. He had been expecting this toast for a long time. He had spent years considering what to say at this moment, but now that he was up there, he had forgotten everything he had planned. He began anyway, "To the men who have gone before us, to the women they left behind, to the wild animals who didn't get us, and to the women who will. Cheers!"

The crowd erupted in applause as he drank from the long, smooth ale horn. He was surprised to find that it wasn't ale at all but a light mead. It was easy to drink, at least for the first half. Either his appetite had shrunk in the last few days, or the horn was bigger than he had always thought. People began to cheer his effort, and he pressed on. When he was finished, he slowly turned the horn upside down. The crowd broke out into applause and then laughter as he fell over. Benj stood again, slightly embarrassed, and handed the horn back to the mayor.

"You did well," the mayor said, taking the horn.

"Thanks!" Benj said and then lowered his voice. "I saw your name written-"

"Yes, you did," he cut him off. His smile grew serious, "and don't mention it."

Benj smiled conspiratorially, cheeks flushed from the mead, and nodded.

"Benjo!" Sephus called out from the crowd. Let's get you home. I've seen pigs cleaner-looking than you."

"I never thought I would say this, but it's good to see you," Benj said through a drunk smile and spotted Mel. "I'll catch up."

Sephus noticed where Benj was looking, gave a wink, and left.

"Hi Mel," he called after her.

"Welcome back!" She exclaimed, weaving herself through conversations of weather predicaments and farming matters.

"Thanks!" he said, stepping off the circular stone platform that held the town bell. "I'm honestly not going to believe I'm back until I'm physically in my bed and wearing clean clothes."

"Now that you mention it," she said, gesturing up and down, "You look awful."

He gave a hearty chuckle and thanked her.

"No, I'm not just referring to your clothes," she said, concerned, "You look like you got in a fight with a sawmill or something."

"You really know how to compliment a guy." He said ironically.

"I'm sorry, it's just… Your face!" Mel poked his scratched cheek where blood had dried and crusted. "You should take better care of yourself."

"Ow! What was that for?" Benj said, holding his face.

"For not taking care of yourself." Mel said, somehow managing a frown and a smirk simultaneously, "And I've missed you."

Benj felt his cheeks get hot. Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush, he thought, and said, "I've thought about you once or twice, maybe."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Oh, stop," she said, slapping him on a bruised portion of his arm, "As soon as you are done recovering and bathed, let's catch up... There's something I want to tell you."

He asked what it was, but she refused and promised to tell him the next time they were together.

"That sounds good," he said and stepped back before she had the opportunity to attack any more of his bruises, "I would hug you, but I'm sure I smell worse than a street urchin sock."

"Then you owe me one," Mel said, turning to leave.

Benj felt his heart burning in his chest after her. He wanted nothing else than to recover fast so he could spend time with her. Though something in the back of his head told him, he wasn't as charming as he could have been.

"Benj," Mayor nudged him and lowered his voice. "I don't think you realize this, but you're staring."

"What? Oh," he said, pulling his attention away from Mel.

"This is a small town," the mayor said through the corner of his lips. "If you don't want to give them something to talk about, I recommend you try looking in a different direction."

Benj beamed an embarrassed smile towards the man. "Thank you, I had no idea."

"It's ok," the mayor smiled. "I can keep a secret. If you want to have that conversation, come to my estate at any time."

"Thanks! I will!" Benj said and made his way home.

When he opened the door to the bakery, he found a young kid putting a pot of water over the fire. The kid stood up straight and said, "Master Benj, my name is Taft, and I'm your new apprentice!"

Ideally, apprentices were never picked for you; you were supposed to interview interested people, spend some time with them, and decide which candidate to select, if any. Unfortunately, Benj wasn't afforded the opportunity to pick an apprentice because apprentice day was the first of the year, which was when he left on his journey. Instead of waiting a whole other year, Sephus chose the only person interested in being a baker. By the look of his waistline, there wasn't any mistaking the reason why.

"Taft, what's your last name?" Benj asked, looking him over.

"That is my last name, Master Benj," he said, still standing straight, wringing his hands. Nervous.

"Just call me Benj; none of this 'master' business as long as you follow orders and learn fast. Are you a fast learner, Taft?"

"Yes, Mast- uh, sir."

Benj sighed, "What's your first name?"

"Teft"

"Your name is Teft Taft?"

"Technically, it's Teft T. Taft."

"What's the 'T' stand for?" Benj asked, already regretting doing so.

"It's, uh, Taffetas," he said. "The third"

"Taft it is then," Benj said abruptly. "What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

"Eating and probably burning things."

"Any good with an ax?"

"I'm better at burning things."

"Then I would say you are in the right place," Benj said.

"Lord Sephus said I was born to be a baker."

"Lord Sephus said that, did he?" Benj couldn't help but smile. The only title Sephus had was 'Baker.' He had given himself the title 'Master Baker' in the past, but the only thing he was truly masterful at was the ability to do absolutely nothing. Not many people shared his rare gift of laziness. It was harder than it looked; Benj had tried it once. He pondered this when, as if on cue, Sephus popped his head around the corner.

"Benjo, I drew you a bath. It should be hot by now. I left you the good soap so those wounds don't fester." He said and then made a sniffing sound, "You're going to need a lot of it."

"Thank you, lord Sephus," Benj said.

"No problem," he said with a guilty smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, very," Benj said

"Taft, go make him something to eat," Sephus said

"Ok!" Taft said, "What do you want?"

"Something to soak up the alcohol," Sephus said

"I'm quite enjoying the alcohol thanks," Benj said

"I was talking about me," Sephus said. "I got an early start this morning. You're going want it too when all that sweetness kicks in, and your head is pounding before sunset."

"Sausages and hot cakes then," Benj said and left to bathe.

He peeled off his clothes, uncovering a filthy and battered body, then closed his eyes as he slipped into the scalding hot water. He hadn't had the luxury of a hot bath for what seemed an eternity. He scrubbed the dirt free of his wounds first, being gentle not to reopen the scabs. He removed the earth from his hair and the rest of his body and then fell asleep.

"Ahem."

Benj awoke with Taft hovering over his bath, holding a tray of food.

"Oh, thanks, just set it over there, I'm about to get out anyway." Benj stood up, grabbed his towel, and wrapped it around himself.

"Does that have a meaning?" Taft asked.

"What are you talking about?" Benj asked in return.

"A good friend of mine said that every tattoo he got has some kind of meaning." Taft said thoughtfully, "like when he got a spider for his wife, something about either "venomous lies" or "web of deceit."

"Oh, I've never gotten a tattoo," Benj said, "I don't think I ever will."

"What about the one on your back?" Taft asked patiently.

"I don't have a tattoo on my back," Benj said.

"Then, that is the weirdest, coolest birthmark I've ever seen."

"What birthmark?"

"Hang on," Taft ran out and came back with a polished silver plate and held it up.

Benj looked at his back through the reflection. In the center of his back, below his shoulder blades, there it was. It was a light blue circle as if painted in a single stroke with very little paint.

"Oh, that!" He said, playing it off like he had forgotten, "I got that for a girl. She was… Well rounded." That was the best he had. At least until he found the real meaning of it or managed to scrub it off.

Benj sat in front of the sausages and hot cakes. "You really are good at burning things." He remarked, "Tomorrow, we have a lot to go over." With that, he ate and slept in his own bed for the rest of the day and night.

When morning came, Benj got up to find Taft sleeping in a cot a few feet away from him.

"Taft," Benj said

"Yeah?"

"It's time to rise and shine." He said, sitting up.

"I'm up."

"Up is what I'm doing; what you're doing is what most cultures would consider down."

Taft yawned and groaned at the same time and then rolled out of bed.

"Can you put a kettle on and meet me outside?" Benj asked, putting clothes on.

Taft did what he was told and then met Benj outside next to the wood pile.

"Every morning when I get up, I chop wood," Benj said, holding his axe. His body was too injured to give him an example. "Have you ever chopped wood before?"

"Sephus had me chop it while you were gone," Taft explained. "He didn't let me do much else. I mean, I did everything else, but I could chop wood unsupervised. For the most part. How much do you need?"

"Maybe a couple of stumps worth, to start," Benj said, handing Taft the axe.

"There should be enough over there," Taft pointed towards the other side of the house where chopped wood lay in a neat and massive pile to the roof.

Benj whistled, took the ax, and hung it back up.

Inside, the kitchen was the cleanest it had ever been. Benj kept it clean, but this was nearly perfect. Everything was exactly where it belonged. All containers were perfectly aligned with each other, and there was no hint of flour or sugar anywhere. "Sephus didn't do this," Benj said.

"He supervised," Taft recounted.

"That makes sense," Benj said, remembering Sephus drinking ale and barking orders when he had first started baking. "Will you bring an arm full of wood inside? It's time to start a fire."

Taft brought an enthusiastic armload of wood.

Benj started a fire in the furnace while Taft watched. "Getting a good fire going and controlling it in such a small area will take practice. You have to move the coals to the outside to maintain even heat. The flames move up and heat the oven in a separate compartment above." He opened the oven door above the furnace and gazed at it. It was also spotless.

"Not too hot, or you'll have burnt dough. If it's not hot enough, then you'll have dry bread." Benj took out two buns, hollowed out a small space in the top of each, cracked an egg into the hollowed-out area, and tossed them in the oven.

"There's a difference between cooking and baking," he continued, "I'm going to need you to know how to do both, so I'm not stuck making us breakfast every morning."

Taft was absorbing everything he said, or at least he looked like he was.

"How many recipes do you think you can memorize in a month?" Benj asked.

"I don't know," Taft said, "How many should I?"

"Zero."

Taft, surprised, just looked at Benj questioningly.

"I am not going to make you memorize a single recipe," he said, "because it's better to have the recipe in front of you for the fiftieth time than to make one mistake the forty-ninth time. You might want to memorize where the recipes are. Baking takes time; finding where everything is should not, at least not eventually."

"Also," Benj took one of the well-worn recipe books off the shelf, "this belongs to Sephus. Do you think you find his favorite recipe?"

"How?" Taft asked.

"You'll see," Benj said and left the room.

Moments later, Taft called out, "I found it!"

"Oh, did you?" Benj came in, holding two tankards of char leaf tea, and placed one in front of Taft.

"Venison pie." He said

"That's right," Benj said, "how did you find it?"

"These dark smudges here on the top of the paper," Taft said, beaming. "There's a lot more of them on this page than the others."

"Do you want that nasty grime inside your mouth?" Benj asked

"I'm inclined to say no."

"That is why I expect you to wash your hands before touching any food, and try to do a good job," after a few moments he added, "or touching recipes." He opened the oven, took out an egg bun he had made, and tossed it to Taft.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch." Taft tossed it up and down before setting it on the counter. "Why did you do that?" He asked.

"It's… Tradition."