Dio – Baking (1)

The first sunrise was somewhat overcast, and yet Dio sat trembling with excitement outside his shelter that first morning, eyes fixed on the horizon. The moon had already bid its farewell, and the sky beyond the hills was beginning to glow turquoise, but he still couldn't see the glowing orb itself. He had dragged over a large stone from nearby to use as a makeshift seat. Des hadn’t reappeared from his hut since slipping inside deep in the night to meditate, and neither had Brela, who had left them with a pensive farewell to sift through her thoughts. Thoughts about things she could no longer remember. Dio hoped she would succeed, though part of him harbored doubt.

The others had remembered things and ideas instantly when they saw the circle. With Brela, it had been different. And still, there was always room for hope.

Dio leaned back a little on the hard stone and let out a quiet sigh. For the first time, he truly realized how little he actually knew about the Dream. Maybe that should have scared him, made him uneasy. Yet all he felt inside was a curious joy.

The world around him was unfamiliar, except for a few faces already burned indelibly into his soul. He felt their presence clearly, almost as intensely as Ray’s. Maybe even more so.

Across from Brela’s tree tent, a woman with silver hair and a weathered face sat in the grass, staring off into the distance. Not far from her lay a young man, whose bald head would soon reflect the light of the rising Sun.

Since the Sun had appeared, the people around him seemed transformed. More alert, more alive. Before, he had only noticed it in Wes, during their talks as they approached Daw; or in Ogan, when the man had seen the circle etched into the earth.

But now, every eye around him gleamed with a contagious sense of purpose.

As the first rays broke over the hills, making the few tender clouds shimmer, Des stepped out of his small hut and stretched. Like Dio, he turned to face the rising Sun, let out a sharp laugh, and then turned on his heel to head off to the fields. When he spotted Dio, he nodded to him cheerfully.

“Ready for a new day?” he called.

“Ready for the first day?” Dio answered with a smirk.

Des stopped and ran a hand through his shaggy beard.

“The first day… yes, you’re right, as always. A mighty fine event! I’ve got a good feeling about this day. We’ll get plenty done, I’m sure. So full of inspiration,” he said.

Dio scrambled to his feet, and together they walked the dusty road toward the fields where they would soon work.

The people they passed seemed exactly as cheerful as the two of them, and it almost felt as if the previous day’s celebration had never ended. That suited Dio just fine. Maybe it meant he’d get some more of his questions answered soon.

The work, as before, was hard on Dio, and his hands ached quickly from the blows he kept delivering with his sharpened stone to cut through the stalks. Yet now and then there was cheerful whistling and humming around him that distracted him, and Des even started into a beautiful melody that made Dio stop for a moment in wonder.

“That sounds fantastic, Des. Where did you learn it?” he asked, sweat running down his brow from the morning Sun and the labor.

Des paused and furrowed his wrinkled brow.

“Hm. I don’t know? Just came to me. Maybe I heard it from someone? Or maybe I remembered it? Who knows anymore.”

He laughed and went on whistling absently while he swung at a particularly tall stalk with golden heads and long awns.

Dio turned back to his own work.

Maybe he did remember it. From his life before. Or did he? What exactly did the Sun do? What did the circle do? How could they cause such a shift to spread across this place? Dio wondered.

The changes thrilled him, and he felt the urge to leap up and question everyone around him, talk with them and—

No, I have to stay focused on my work!

Strike by strike, stalk by stalk, head by head…

When Des and he had already gathered a large pile of grain, Ogan came by. He was pulling his cart behind him, which bumped and rattled a little as it rolled along the ground.

“Hello, hello! Hard at work?” Ogan called out, tossing the harvest onto the cart bed.

“Always! You too, by the looks of it! Still happy with your new means of transport?” Dio asked, eyeing the two wheels.

Ogan grinned broadly.

“Of course! Well, I’ve got a few ideas for improvements. The wheels aren’t exactly round, and sometimes I get stuck. But I’m sure that can be fixed. Lot’s a creative one, after all!”

Des nodded in agreement, and Ogan suddenly flinched.

“Almost forgot: Wes and Reab sent something for you!” he exclaimed and pulled two loaves of bread from his bag.

Dio could already feel his mouth water at the faint smell of freshness and the healthy golden-brown crust of the bread.

“Much appreciated! That’ll make the work twice as easy,” Des nodded and took a bite, the crisp sound of it making Dio’s hunger spike even more.

“Really tasty,” he mumbled after biting into his own loaf. “I wonder how the two of them manage to bake it this well! I’d love to bake bread too, just once. Bring people some joy.”

Ogan shrugged.

“Then go help them. They’d probably be glad to have you,” he said.

Dio shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I work here. I’m not a breadmaker. I can’t go off having fun while you and Des and the others are out here toiling,” he said, letting his shoulders slump.

“Brela was right when she called you a goofball. Do what makes you happy!” Des laughed, half confused, half amused.

Dio raised an eyebrow. “But I’m a fieldworker! That’s my job here, isn’t it?”

“Your job is whatever you want it to be! No matter what you do, we all trust it’ll be for the good of everyone. That’s how it’s always been. And usually people don’t ask for permission; theysimply do what they think is right. You can’t force anyone to do something, can you? Not when eternity lies ahead. That would be… malicious,” Ogan said.

He spat out that last word like it was a piece of spoiled meat and pulled a face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I—” Dio began, trying to soothe him, though Ogan shook his head.

“Dio, that wasn’t about you! You goofball,” Ogan laughed suddenly.

He pointed toward the settlement. “Go on, get moving. And bake me another one of those delicious loaves. I’m getting addicted!”

Dio looked questioningly at Des, who also nodded with a glint in his eye and gave him a wink. Dio quickly nodded back, thanked them again, and hurried off toward the tree tents. The path felt much shorter this time, and his steps lighter. He was practically trembling as he approached Wes and Reab.

The two of them were outside their twin huts, which were connected by a small passageway. They were working on a large stone slab, mixing some ingredients. Next to them, a glowing fire crackled beneath another flat stone where several portions of dough were already sizzling away.

Dio slowed his steps and hesitated.

Should I really try this? I’m sure I’m not as good as they are. Still, it’ll be so much fun. Creating something with my hands that puts a smile on everyone’s face, he thought.

He looked down at his hands, still covered in dirt from the fields. He needed to wash them first, right? That’s what you were supposed to do, wasn’t it? Hastily, Dio looked around for water and was about to slip away when Wes looked up and spotted him.

“Dio! Great to see you! Come on over! Did Ogan bring you the bread?” the young man beamed.

“Looks like it! He’s still got crumbs on his cheek,” Reab laughed with a cackle.

Dio felt his face flush and quickly wiped at his cheeks as he approached the two.

“It was really tasty, thank you,” he said.

Reab and Wes looked at him, though he didn’t know what to say.

“You okay, Dio? Something up?” Wes asked, this time with concern in his voice.

Dio still hesitated, but finally forced himself to speak up and tell them what was on his mind.

“I… would really like to try baking bread sometime. With you. Is that possible, do you maybe have time to show me how? Perhaps tomorrow?” he asked, forcing himself not to look down at the ground.

The two men looked at each other in confusion, then burst out laughing.

“Of course! We always have time for you! Let's do it now! Sit down!” they chuckled, shaking their heads like Dio had asked for something completely obvious.

He hurried to thank them again and sat down next to Wes after washing his hands in the nearby stream behind their huts. The stone they sat at, already covered in a few lumps of dough, had enough space for Dio to begin as well, following Wes’s instructions to crush some grains and mix them with water. He had never held a pestle before, or at least it felt unfamiliar, yet there was something calming about grinding the grains with the large stone and turning them into a coarse flour. 

A fine dust rose every time Dio pressed the pestle down onto the slab. Soon, he had to rub his eyes, but he didn’t let that stop him from working. At last, he had ground the grains into a whitish-brown flour and swept it into a small pile.

“What now?” he asked, glancing over at the two men working beside him.

“Hm, looks good. Now you need to mix it with a bit of water,” Wes said.

“How exactly? How much water and how much flour?” Dio pressed.

Reab thought for a moment and looked at his own dough.

“I simply go by feel,” he said.

Dio looked down at his own flour, then back up.

“Well, you must be able to give me some kind of rough idea, right? I want to do everything properly.”

“About half as much water as flour,” Reab replied hesitantly.

“I use about the same amount of each,” Wes added.

The two men looked at each other, furrowed their brows, then burst into laughter again.

“Well, just go by feel,” they both said at once.

Dio tried not to let his expression betray his frustration. He nodded politely and began glancing more often at the two of them, but sure enough, they were using completely different proportions. He finally decided to try Wes’s method, doing his best to mix roughly equal parts of water and flour. He took some water from the nearby stream, which Wes and Reab had already portioned into large, goblet-shaped leaves. Soon, he had a soggy lump in front of him that seemed far too wet.

“Hm, a bit more flour,” Reab commented with a casual glance.

Dio quickly nodded and added more flour, until the dough started to feel a bit drier. At last, it reached a consistency he liked, and he tried to memorize how exactly he had mixed the two ingredients. The mass was getting firmer now, and as his fingers worked their way through it, kneading, shaping, a faint sense of familiarity began to stir in him. Dio closed his eyes, yet nothing came back. Not a single memory.

Of course not…