Part 2 17 | Tushy Britt Blair Fortunate Buns

Tushy stepped forward, holding the sack of Fortunate Buns aloft. “These buns carry the hopes of Crumbshire. Let them be the seed of our salvation.”

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At a narrow ledge, the wind threatened to throw them off. Tushy, clutching the sack of buns, felt the weight of the village’s hopes pressing against his chest. He closed his eyes and inhaled the cold air, recalling the first bake he ever made—a simple loaf that rose despite his trembling hands. He whispered to the dough, “You are more than flour. You are memory. You are courage.” Tushy stepped forward, holding the sack of Fortunate

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