Chapter 23: Patience

Minutes slipped past like a gentle breeze, and before long, more than an hour had drifted by. Molly and Nom Nom’s exhilarating flight above the clouds came to a quiet end.

Nom Nom descended back to Eoma’s main bakery field, her broad wings beating with a calm, steady rhythm before her form touched the ground with barely a whisper. The Phragon’s velvety charcoal-black hide shimmered faintly in the afternoon’s sky, the aurora-like ribbons of green and violet tracing lazy patterns along her undulating spine fins.

Molly eased herself down from Nom Nom’s back with Ted’s steady assistance. She offered him a short bow of gratitude, her robe settling around her small frame as her feet found solid earth once more. Then she turned her eyes to Nom Nom, gazing up at the Phragon for a lingering moment. She lifted her hand and stroked the cool, slightly translucent surface of Nom Nom’s neck, her touch gentle as she communicated inwardly. ‘Take care of yourself, alright. I hope we will meet again soon, before winter reaches its end. And do not hurt yourself again.’

At those words, Nom Nom fluttered her wings with a soft rustle, the single willow-leaf fin at the tip of her long tail twitching. ‘I will most definitely try not to let my curiosity get the better of me again,’ she projected back.

A wide, cheesing grin threatened to surface on Molly’s face. ‘But curiosity is such a delightful thing.’

Nom Nom tilted her head, her large, glossy black eyes blinking with quiet intelligence as she fixed her gaze on the young girl. ‘It is also dangerous.’

Molly shared a silent giggle with the Phragon before stepping back. She watched as Lilly moved forward to bid her own farewell. Just as earlier that day, Nom Nom swept out her long tongue and delivered an affectionate lick across Ted’s face, drawing another round of quiet giggles from both Lilly and Molly.

After that, Nom Nom puffed out her chest with unmistakable pride, the shimmering ribbons along her ear nubs flaring brighter for just a heartbeat. She cast one final glance at Molly, her expressive eyes holding the girl’s image, before she launched herself skyward with a powerful, sweeping flap of her wings.

Molly lifted her hand and waved serenely at the ascending Phragon, a wistful expression drifting across her features as she watched Nom Nom dissolve into the expanse above. Their flight beyond the clouds had been nothing short of enchanting. She had never imagined that riding upon a Phragon could feel so wondrous, especially when they had plunged into the denser pockets of cloud, their forms swallowed entirely by the thick, billowing mist. Some of that very mist had even found its way into the folds of her robe, lingering there like captured fragments of the sky.

“How was your experience?” Lilly’s voice drifted to her from nearby.

Molly turned calmly toward the cheerful woman. She held Lilly’s gaze for a quiet moment before offering a small, deliberate nod.

~ It was wonderful.

A bright expression bloomed across Lilly’s round face as she read the words. “That is truly wonderful to hear,” she said.

Ted, standing beside her, shook his head as though trying to dislodge an unpleasant thought that had crawled into his mind. “It was a horrendous experience for me.”

Lilly arched a brow, her lips curling in amusement as she aimed a small, mocking jab his way. “Shall we call Nom Nom back? I am certain she would adore taking you up into the sky a second time.”

Ted gave a short snort. “No, thank you. I would much rather keep my feet planted firmly on the ground.”

Lilly laughed, a light, melodic sound that floated through the field. Molly giggled too when she caught sight of the genuine fear flickering in Ted’s eyes.

After that, a comfortable silence gradually settled over them. Lilly turned her gaze toward the distance, toward the sturdy silhouette of Eoma’s main bakery. Wisps of smoke curled lazily from the chimney above, twisting upward in slow, unhurried ribbons before dissolving into the afternoon air. The distant hum of milling machines pulsed faintly, a rhythmic heartbeat far removed from their quiet corner of the field.

“Why don’t we go check on the bread?” Lilly said at last, her voice calm as she glanced toward Ted, who answered with a single nod. Her gaze shifted to Molly, and the corners of her lips lifted into a gentle curl.

“It should be fully baked by now.”

******

Ted, Lilly, and Molly made their way through the production zone’s wide passageway, their footsteps echoing softly against the floor. The scent of flour and yeast grew denser with every step, layering the air with the unmistakable perfume of a working bakery. When they reached the baking kitchen, Ted placed his hand against the door and pushed it open with a calm, unhurried motion.

The moment the door swung wide, Molly drew in a deep, unhurried breath. A delightful expression settled across her features as an orchestra of sweet fragrances swept into her senses, notes of caramelized honey, warm milk, and rich butter weaving together in perfect harmony. Her eyes drifted across the room, watching the bakers move with practiced ease, each one absorbed in their assigned rhythm. They carried pans of every size, each laden with loaves that gleamed a whitish gold, the unmistakable hue of honeyed milk bread.

A giddy swell of joy rose inside Molly as her gaze landed on the long worktable where they had labored over the bread dough earlier that morning. To her quiet delight, the fruits of their work were already arranged there, cooling in neat rows.

Lilly let out a soft chuckle when she noticed Molly’s barely contained excitement as they approached the table.

When they reached it, Molly eagerly stepped forward and climbed onto the small stool, lifting herself high enough to peer over the edge at the pans filled with baked bread. The scent of butter and milk and honey joined a dozen other subtle notes, weaving together in a fragrant tapestry that wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

“Now that the bread is finished baking, we arrive at the final step,” Lilly said, her bright eyes settling on Molly. “Waiting.”

“Just as with every step we have taken up to now,” she continued, shifting one of the pans gently with her hand, the metal cool enough to touch but still radiating a faint warmth, “patience is still required. The loaf needs to cool completely before we cut or package it. The crumb is still setting deep inside. Slice too soon, and you will tear the bread, render it gummy and dense. Package it while it is still too warm, and you will trap all that heat and steam within the wrapping. Instead of a crisp, airy loaf, you will end up with a damp, heavy, and rapidly staling product.”

Molly listened with rapt attention, her head inclined slightly upward toward Lilly. A thought soon crystallized in her mind, and she decided to bring it forth. She glanced at Lilly, and the black orb floating above her shoulder dissolved into swirling particles before reforming into words.

~ What if the bakers did not slice the bread the very moment it left the oven?

A smile curved across Lilly’s lips as she read the question. “A fine question,” she said, pausing to gather her thoughts. “If they waited, the bread would be given time to finish setting. The residual heat and steam still trapped inside would redistribute gently through the crumb. The interior would firm up, the structure would stabilize, and the loaf would slice cleanly, without a single tear or gummy pull. The reward for that waiting would be a tender, airy texture instead of a squashed, doughy mess. In short,” she said, her voice softening, “our patience would repay us with perfect slices.”

Molly nodded, her understanding settling deep. Her eyes lingered on the golden loaves a moment longer, tracing the gentle domes of their crusts. A small curl lifted her lips before she stepped down from the stool, determined to let the bread rest as it deserved.

*******

Thirty-five minutes slipped past in a quiet breeze. Molly stood by and watched as the bakers packaged each loaf with careful, reverent hands, their movements carrying the quiet dignity of a meticulously crafted product. She had always known Eoma’s bakery for this precise devotion, but witnessing it up close stirred something deeper within her.

When the last loaf was wrapped, Lilly stepped forward and collected one with tender care. She retraced her steps until she stood before Molly, a proud expression blooming across her round features. She extended the loaf toward the girl.

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“Here, take this. It is your reward.”

Molly stared at the bread for a long, silent moment. Her face betrayed no clear emotion as her gaze flickered between Lilly’s outstretched hand and the golden packaged loaf resting upon it. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet Lilly’s. The black orb dissolved and reformed.

~ But… I did not do anything of great importance.

Lilly shook her head firmly. “You did,” she said, her voice carrying a warmth that softened the edges of her words. “Though it may not seem like much to you, to bakers like Ted and I, who have spent years steeped in this craft…” She paused, and a flicker of genuine warmth passed over her face. “We saw your determination. We saw your attentiveness, your readiness to learn, the way you poured yourself into each small task.”

She inched the bread closer to Molly. “And those qualities alone deserve a reward. So here.”

Molly stared at Lilly’s warm expression for a stretched, heavy moment. Her gaze drifted toward Ted, who stood a little way off. Upon meeting her eyes, he gave a brief, affirming nod. Molly’s attention returned to the bread in Lilly’s hand, and a small, quiet smile finally played at the corners of her lips. She accepted the loaf, cradling it against her chest, and offered both Ted and Lilly a deep bow of gratitude. The orb shimmered as it projected her feelings.

~ Thank you very much.

Lilly laughed, the sound bright and easy, as she waved a dismissive hand. “It is no trouble at all.”

As Molly straightened, Lilly’s expression beamed with renewed brightness. She placed a hand on her waist, her cheerful posture radiating an almost maternal pride. “Congratulations, baker Molly,” she said. “You have learned one of the oldest magics there is. And woven within that lesson, you have also learned one of the most essential rules of life.”

Her lips softened, the playful curl melting into something warmer, something almost tender. “Patience.”

A small sound of surprise escaped Molly, and the word echoed through her mind like a stone dropped into still water.

~ Patience.

Lilly nodded. “Yes. Patience.” She gestured calmly toward the rows of packaged breads sitting on the table, their wrappings crisp and neat. “Patience is the quiet ingredient that transforms simple flour and water into something worth sharing with others. In bread,” she said, raising a single finger and pointing it gently toward Molly, “and in life.”

She lowered her hand and used her palm to gently adjust the toque resting on Molly’s head, her touch light and careful. “The most important step is often the one where you do nothing at all, the step where you allow time to perform what only time can. Rushing might grant you something to hold.” She withdrew her hand, letting it fall to her side, and a gentle curl lifted the corner of her lips. “But waiting gives you something to savor.”

“Never forget that, alright?”

Molly nodded with solemn sincerity. Patience. The word echoed in her mind once more, rippling outward as she pondered its weight and shape, turning it over like a smooth stone in her palm.