The grainy gruel porridge spilled across her hand as it was haphazardly poured, already so cold that it had probably been made days ago. She could see the bits of moldy bread that were thrown into it, along with the greying vegetables. It was grey and green and black like something from the depths of a swamp. It was unappetizing. She wasn't looking at it, just remembering that this was something that she needed to get for others. She would find something better for herself and for her son. This was such a large city that she would figure out something that would end up keeping her alive. She had gotten so far already; she couldn't give up now.
Lot desperately wants to return to the place where everything used to make sense.
Immediately, as she had gotten some of what she had wanted, she pulled herself back out of the crowd. It wasn't healthy to be in large crowded spaces to begin with, Father Arne had told her too many times to count. It would be wonderful now to have that old geezer here instead of where she couldn't reach him. She walked into the road, and immediately, there was a blue carriage that was already there with horses that bucked at the horrible sight of her covered in gruel. The coachman whipped the horses, and then, as she was holding onto the food with precarious hope.
The whip pulsed against her hand, and she cried out. The pain was instant as she felt the lightning of pain, and then the bowl spilled out and onto her. Komi immediately woke up and made a sound of discomfort. She looked down immediately in horror, wondering if the pain from the whip had come to the only thing she wanted to protect more than anything.
Lot immediately started cooing, trying to calm him down as she knew now that she had no food at all to give him. She looked up at the coachman, who was holding up the whip again, righting the horses. The coach itself had stopped, and Lot could see that the fabric curtains were pulled aside, and she saw that inside there was a young missus who looked absolutely miffed to see that muddy and covered in moldy matter, Lot had stopped her journey.
"You, filth, you've come in my way. How dare you think that you're worthy enough to do anything? Do you really think that you're worth wiping my soles? I hate the sight of you. Get out of the way, or I'll have the coach whip you again. He'll whip that look off your face, peasant. Who are you to feast your eyes on me? Out! Out!"
Lot felt a tiredness start to spread through her body that had nothing to do with her near-death experience from being run over by a carriage, as Komi chose this moment to start screaming. His mouth was open wide, and she could see the inside of his mouth where there were white spots on his tongue. She knew this was not going to be a good environment for him to be in for long. She needed to find somewhere else to live fast. The coachman looked between both of them as he raised the whip again. The missus opened the divider between them, and she took the whip into her own hands and started to whip the horses instead of coaxing them.
Lot threw herself on the other side of the road as the horses immediately set off.
There was a lot of mud which was thrown up behind the carriage wheels. Lot threw up her hand in protest as she showed there was a child strapped to her, but she was soaked through as the carriage sped off into the town. The checkpoint was up ahead, and she knew that a woman like that would have no difficulty at all getting through the barrier where the nice opportunities were all stacked neatly. It was a sad, vapid truth that she could not walk there easily. She wrung out her skirts as she looked at the retreating carriage and then at her son, who was absolutely terrified at what had just happened so quickly. All of their food was now gone. At least now, Lot thought glumly, they would not be a target for snatchers as they had no gruel at all. She had no energy to go back into the crowd and fight for something so utterly pointless. Several of the refugees were looking at her son. Some of them were salivating, looking at them with empty expressions.
Lot got up quickly, and she ran back towards the small, cramped tent house that she had talked several women into letting her into. The house was built from rubbish, obviously, and discarded building supplies from renovations at the church that she had just come from. It wasn't a perfect house, by any means, but it was a roof over their head. She opened the fabric door hanging aside with her mud-filled bowl. The other mothers looked at her expectantly. There was a mother who was on the ground, her stomach swelled with child.
"I'm sorry," Lot said quietly. "I didn't manage to get you any. I tried, I really did. It was knocked over by a passing carriage, and I wasn't really able to gather more. I'm covered in it, but that's not much use for you. I'm so sorry."
The woman on the ground touched her aching belly with one hand and then turned to her side, pointing at Lot with accusation. "Go back outside, we don't have room for those who are freeloaders. There are so many children here that we have to keep an eye on them. Tonight, you need to find your own place to stay."
Lot was aghast. "Excuse me? I tended to your back all of last night. I cleaned all of your bedding after your bleeding. I made sure that everyone had enough food yesterday, and today I have to step outside. I have tried and tried for these womenfolk."