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Finger Honey

By Alco the Silver Hag

Chapter Four

The sweet loaves were almost ready. Baked, warm, fresh from the oven. The Baker had done such a job creating such magnificent loaves, but they were yet to be completed. His assistant was tasked with finishing the job.   With delicate hands, she carried the tray to her place in the kitchen, carefully taking her freshly sharpened knife to cut the loaves free from their pan and onto separate plates. The first was stubborn. She worked her knifes tip into the pan, poking and prodding, loosening with every slice and it came free, loving to the plate with a single crumb falling off and onto the counter.   Surely if the baker caught a crumb on the counter, he would have at her again with the wooden spoon! She trembled at the thought, biting her lip softly. She looked over her shoulder at him and then glanced back at the crumb just sitting there on the counter, begging for her to have a taste. Rather than dirty her hands, she bent down and picked it up with her lips, straightening herself as the bread practically melted in her mouth. It tasted like heaven. But, of course, it was missing one thing…   After every loaf had been plated, she reached above her to grab the small pot of fresh farmers honey, looking around frantically for her honey-dipper wand. She couldn’t believe she had lost it. And on such an important order! She would have to think of something quickly. She frantically but carefully washed her hands, eyeing the pot of honey wistfully before walking back over to it. Slowly, she pressed a finger inside. It felt… strange… but not unpleasant. She lifted her finger out of the honey and watched the drips carefully.. not thick enough. She tried again, this time with two fingers, rolling the honey gently around to make sure her fingers were coated.   Carefully, she drizzled the honey from her soft fingertips and onto the first loaf, letting it pool just a little on it’s too before swirling it around to the base. It looked perfect. She eyed the pot again and all the loaves she would have to do. One finger in the pot… then two… then three. These loaves were going to be the best they had ever been.

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