Bor felt the very subtle tap resonating through the worn wood of his cart and turned. To his side, he found one of Derry's famed sugar tarts, the sugared bread and the juicy fruit weaving together to make a pleasant smell. He delicately picked it up, inhaled, then sank his teeth into the delectable treat, piercing the bread then into the sweet berry flesh bursting into the juice. Sooo good. That young man was a generous fellow. Maybe when it was time to leave the city, Bor considered going over to Derry and asking him the recipe. Hroom. About the size of his fist. Big 'un. Bor kept the tasty treat to the side and attended to the rest of his customers.