"O-oh, Y-yes, YES!" The man nodded frantically, his movements jerky and desperate as he wrapped up several pieces in dirty cloth and handed them over with trembling hands.
Viktor took the bundle without comment and walked back to the old woman.
He crouched down again, placing it in her trembling hands with the same gentleness he'd used to treat her wound.
Her eyes went wide.
Tears spilled down her weathered cheeks, cutting clean tracks through the dirt and grime that coated her face.
Her mouth opened, but no words came out—only a strangled sob that seemed to contain years of suffering.
"Thank you," she finally whispered, clutching the moldy bread to her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. "Thank you... thank you..."
Viktor stood, his jaw tight with an emotion he refused to name.
That's when he noticed them.
Children. At least a dozen, creeping out from the shadows where they'd been hiding and watching.
