Shu-Giri had no idea how to make a cake. Even when he was reminded for the third time that cake is baked rather than made, he would only respond that he simply had no idea how.
“You have flour,” Mearrk’hal pointed out as he looked around Shu-Giri’s pantry.
Shu-Giri pushed his colorful curls of hair out of his face and groaned. “I have eggs, too, but what am I to do with them?”
Mearrk’hal chucked. “I would have that that you knew already, what with the way you insisted on making, rather than buying one from the baker in the village.”
Another groan. “Why does everyone assume that I can bake?” He glared at his friend.
Mearrk’hal, however, was not to be intimidated by those shimmering pink eyes. “You could ask Phiare to make it for you…”
“Absolutely not!” Shu-Giri cried out. “Why should I ask her to make a cake that is meant especially for… for, well…”
Mearrk’hal knew what his blush meant. “For Vénes? I’m sure he’d be just as happy with a cake from the bakery.”
“Probably moreso…” Shu-Giri grumbled in a sort of disdainful resignation.
“They can add the colorful swirls to the batter that you like so much,” his friend reminded him, as though the temptation would be too great to resist.
Shu-Giri stared at him for a long time. He took an egg from the basket and spun it on the table like a top. It took a wild turn, and would have rolled off the edge had he not caught it at the last second. He let out a sigh and put the egg back.
“Fine. Let’s go,” he muttered as he got to his feet. “It’s for him to enjoy anyway; why spoil it?”
“You never liked coking,” Mearrk’hal reminded him as he followed him out into the main hall.
“But I am going to buy the best cake that the bakery has!” Shu-Giri insisted.
“That’s the spirit!” Mearrk’hal said with a grin as he pull on his cloak.
And with that, they walked together out of Shu-Giri’s house and onto the path leading to the village square.