The bakery was warm and filled with the rich scent of yeast and baking bread. Elara set to work, carefully lifting the heavy sacks of flour despite her injuries.
The bags weighed more than she cared to admit, and each time she hoisted one onto her shoulder, pain shot through her bruised ribs. But she gritted her teeth and carried on, not wanting to disappoint Mr. Grett.
At some point, Mr. Grett shuffled over to where Elara was kneading dough and leaned in conspiratorially. "You know, lass," he began, his voice low, "I reckon you could take 'em."
Elara blinked her eyes in confusion. Raising an eyebrow, unsure of what he meant. "Take who?"
"Those girls," Grett said with a sly grin. "Next time they come at you, just give 'em a good whack with one of these." He held up a thick wooden rolling pin, twirling it like a weapon. "Trust me, a good smack across the head with this, and they'll think twice before laying a hand on you."
Elara stifled a laugh. "I don't think the Order would approve of me hitting people with rolling pins, Mr. Grett."
"Ah, the Order," Grett said, rolling his eyes. "They'd probably suggest you pray for the girls instead. But I say, a rolling pin works just as well, if not better!"
Elara couldn't help but smile at the image of herself chasing her bullies down the street with a rolling pin. "I'll keep that in mind."
Grett grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "You do that, lass. And remember, if you ever need help, you've got ol' Grett here to watch your back."
---
The hours passed quickly as Elara helped in the bakery, the work distracting her from the pain in her body and the turmoil in her mind. For a brief moment, she almost forgot about the previous day's ordeal.
The warmth of the oven, the smell of baked goods, and Grett's jovial company made the world seem a little brighter.
By midday, Elara had finished her tasks, and Grett, true to his word, handed her a freshly baked loaf of bread as payment.
"Take this," he said, thrusting the bread into her hands. "And don't argue with me. You've earned it."
Elara smiled gratefully, hugging the warm loaf to her chest. "Thank you, Mr. Grett. I appreciate it."
"Nonsense!" Grett waved her off. "You've done more for me than I could ever repay. Now, get some rest, lass. You look like you could use it."
Elara nodded and made her way to the door, though not before Grett called after her one last time.
"And remember! If those girls give you trouble again, just let me know! I'll come down there with my rolling pin and sort 'em out!"
Elara laughed as she left the bakery, feeling lighter than she had when she arrived. Despite the pain in her body, she couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride. She had made it through another day, and though the world was harsh, there were still kind souls like Grett who made it bearable.
---
As Elara made her way back to her small cottage, the weight of the day began to settle in. Her body ached, her ribs protesting with each step, but she held her head high.
The bread tucked under her arm was a small victory, a reminder that she could survive on her own. The village, the market, and even the Divine Order—these were all part of her life now, but they didn't define her.
And though she didn't know it yet, the strength she was beginning to find in herself would soon be tested in ways she could never have imagined.