There was an apple tree by his family's small house that Daniel loved. In the spring it would shower the ground with little white flowers, and in the summer, green bundles of apples would appear. Daniel would sit for hours among the branches, watching the skins change from green to yellow to red. In the fall, he would pluck the ripe ones before his parents saw, so he could have the crunchy, tartly sweet fruit all to himself.

Now a grown man with a respectable smithy and a second apprentice, the apple tree he'd planted some years before was finally bearing fruit. He could see the clusters of green just beginning to grow. He patted the trunk fondly, turning when he heard the slight scuff of boots.

"Finally," his apprentice muttered.

"You don't like apples, Jonas?" Daniel questioned softly, with an amused smile.

"I like them well enough," said Jonas. "But it seems a great deal of effort to go to when you have so much work to do, and you can buy a good apple from the market."

Daniel simply shook his head at Jonas' ignorance, and the younger man shrugged and returned to the forge. Daniel looked over his apple tree once more, and then followed his apprentice back to work.