Elara's POV
The lines at the distribution point had grown long again, stretching down the street and around the corner. People stood in the sun with their children and their empty baskets, waiting for grain that would not last long enough. I lifted sack after sack, my arms numb now, my back a dull ache that I had stopped noticing. The other volunteers moved beside me, silent with exhaustion.
I was reaching for another sack when something made me look up.
A cart was moving down the main road, loaded with grain. I knew that cart. I had seen it loaded that morning, marked for the northern distribution point. But it was not heading north. It was turning down a side street, moving away from the crowds, away from the people who were waiting.
