Tiivv Warmhearth counted three empty tables and knew her dream was dying. She wanted her tavern to be the most talked-about place in all of Thornmaw. Instead, travelers passed her glowing windows and chose the alehouse down the road. Tonight only two guests sat inside, nursing the same flat stew every tavern served. Tiivv wiped the same clean counter for the third time. Her tail flicked against her leg. Her sister Saara came in from the back, apron dusted with flour. Saara cooked and served beside Tiivv, and she read her sister's face in one glance. "You're doing the counting thing again," Saara said. She set down a tray and leaned on the counter. "We serve good food." "We serve the same food," Tiivv said. "Bread, stew, ale. Every door in this town offers it. Why would anyone walk past four taverns to reach ours?" Saara didn't argue. That silence hurt more than any answer. Tiivv pushed away from the counter. "I need something no one else has. Something a traveler tells the next town about." She thought of the cherry trees behind the inn, the ones that bloomed pink all year. And the dark berries that grew wild in their shade, glossy and sweet. No cook in Thornmaw touched them. Most people thought they were only for the tiny mice that nested in the roots. Saara straightened. "You want to bake with those? People say they're bitter." "People never tried them right," Tiivv said. They worked until the fire burned low. Saara rolled dough and crimped the edges by hand. Tiivv crushed the berries, tasted, added honey, tasted again. The first tart came out sour. The second burned. Flour covered them both. Near midnight, they pulled the third from the oven. The crust was golden. The dark berries glistened on top, dusted pale, sweet and rich underneath. Tiivv cut a slice and gave it to the two guests still lingering by the fire. One man took a bite. He stopped talking. He took another, then looked up. "I have never eaten anything like this," he said. "What is it?" "A moonberry tart," Tiivv said. The name came to her in that moment. "You'll only find it here." The man finished the slice. Then he asked for two more, wrapped, to carry to the next town. His companion asked the same. Saara laughed, tired and bright. "You did it." Tiivv looked at the empty pan. She had her one thing at last, the dish no other tavern could offer. But she saw the problem too. She had berries enough for a dozen tarts, maybe less. If word spread, a dozen travelers would come. Then a hundred. And every one of them would want the tart she could not yet make in numbers. She wiped her hands on her apron and started planning. Tomorrow she would need far more berries than the trees behind the inn could give.