“Please! Save my baby,” a young woman cries out from behind me.
My skin prickles with dread. The hour is early, and there is nobody else to answer her plea. My heart cracks at the sight before me. She’s cradling a too-small bundle wrapped in burlap. Two scrawny children pull at her dress.
Starvation is a nasty beast, and it’s sunk its teeth into us all at this point. The rations being doled out from the greenhouses are barely enough to sustain life, and I’ve heard the soldiers are stockpiling spoils to keep for themselves.
Responding instinctively, I usher them into the building, knowing there’s nothing that can be done for what ails them.
Those without someone to strong-arm their way to the front of the line go without. And if you go without for too many days, you die.
A breastfeeding mother needs more food than usual, and sometimes specific foods are required to keep their supply up. This mother is getting neither.
“I don’t think she’s been eating enough,” the woman says, handing the baby over to me. I place her on the bed and unwrap her, schooling my facial expression so as not to frighten her siblings or mother.
The fragile little thing is much too thin. Her ribs stick out wider than her stomach, deep blue veins spiderweb too obviously across her body, and she has dark circles around her eyes.
She doesn’t stir when I unwrap her, which would frighten me except that I see her chest move with her breath. Her heartbeat, visible through her delicate skin, is almost too slow.
“She needs nutrients, that’s for sure,” I say.
“What do I do?” she begs, tears filling her eyes.
I take a quick look around the open room. There is only one other healer caring for a villager across the way. I shouldn’t—our supplies are limited as it is—but I can’t allow this baby to die today.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell the mother and hand back her sleeping bundle.
In the supply closet I track down what I’m looking for. A few years ago, I worked with the gardeners to create a plant-based powder meant to mimic a mother’s milk. We keep some on hand for when new babies are born here and the mothers pass in childbirth or are unable to produce milk for whatever reason.
It’s worked well. But the gardens can only supply so much, and we have to be very careful with our inventory. There is only about ten days’ worth of the powder.
The crushing weight of defeat threatens to flatten me, but I push it away. The Smog has stolen so much, but wewillfind a way to sustain our people and bring prosperity back to the land. There is no other option.
Taking all the supplements from the shelf, I find a satchel to put the canisters in, two bottles with rubber tops for feeding, ameasuring scoop, along with a tea meant to help bolster milk supply, and rush back to the waiting family.
“Take this with you.” I show the woman the supplies and shove the bag into her hands. “Mix one scoop of powder with boiled water to the line marked on the bottles, let it cool to room temperature, then feed it to her.” I put my arm around the frail woman and walk them toward the exit, whispering the instructions to her as quickly as I can. “The tea is for you. It should help increase your milk supply.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t think she would have made it much longer without your help. You are a godsend,” the woman cries, and I’m holding back my own emotions as I usher them through the door, looking over my shoulder to ensure nobody has seen our exchange.
Thankfully, it’s still early, and none of the other healers have come in yet.
“Take care of yourselves. Be well.” I turn, leaving them on the street before a tear can fall. I send a prayer up to the gods that I’ve done the right thing and I’m not just delaying the inevitable.
Please don’t let that baby die.
Arina
Mud squelches beneath me as the soldier leans down, pressing himself further into my body. He’s so close the coarse whiskers of his beard almost graze my cheek, and rage heats my insides as he whispers, “I love when you squirm beneath me, Arina.”
Shit.He has me pinned. The sharp bones of his knees dig into each of my arms as swollen raindrops land like cannonballs into the puddles around us. The training grounds blur around us in different shades of brown and black, and any sound the other soldiers might be making as they spar is drowned out by the pounding drumbeat in my skull.
Pain is temporary, I remind myself, blinking up at the man, beckoning with my head for him to lean in closer so I can whisper in his ear.
“The only time I’ll ever be beneath you is when we’re sparring, and even then, only when you cheat.”
Pulling back as far as my unfavorable position allows, I slam my head into his temple with all my strength. It rattles my brain even further, but it’s worth it.
“Fuck, Arina! That hurt!” he yells, stunned enough to shift his weight off my arms. Which is all I need.
I push up, reaching for the dagger he’d knocked from my hand moments before he had pinned me. It’s just out of reach, and my fingers sink into the icy mud as I inch closer, driven by the burning rage of humiliation until finally, the blade is in my grasp.
