A Hunger Waiting To Be Satisfied

"So. Thirsty." Jazon whispered brokenly to his mother. Lilya's heart wrenched at her young son's plea. She had no words with which to comfort him. So she just pulled him closer to her side and cried. As Jazon fell into another restless sleep, Lilya's tears gathered on the dirt beneath her. They were sitting on the floor, leaning their backs against the wall of their small hut.

Lilya had long ago sold everything they had for food, and used their furniture for firewood.

It hadn't rained for seven years. Soon after the drought had begun, chaos erupted in the streets, and their small city of Tegoza had lost all semblance of it's former glory. Jobs disintegrated and food quickly became scarce. Lilya's husband, Aeraf, had been killed five years ago, while going into the city for food.

In the beginning of her marriage, Lilya had hated the fact that their hut was outside the walls of the city. Now, she was grateful for it. It was for that very reason that she and her son had been spared much of the violence.

Lilya looked down at her son's face. Jazon had been so strong for her. Much stronger than his eleven years should have merited. She smiled bitterly. Under different circumstances, she and Aeraf would have begun looking for a daughter-in-law in a few years, as was the custom.

How Lilya wished the drought had never come to pass. But alas, there was nothing she could do about it. She had enough supplies for one more meal to share with her son. And then they would die. There was nothing more to it. They were out of food and would soon be out of water as well.

Gently moving Jazon away, Lilya stood. She went out of their small hut and decided to look for some wood. There was bound to be some somewhere, right? If this was to be the last meal her son would ever eat, she could at least give it to him cooked.

As she walked down the hill and crossed what used to be the stream, she thought she saw something glimmer out of the corner of her eye.

Yes, there it was again. Could it be... She gathered the hem of her tunic in her hands and ran toward it. Yes!! The gods be praised, it was water! She knelt down by the large puddle and drank as much as she ought. When she stopped for a breath, she realized she didn't have anything to carry the water in.

Well. If I can't bring the water to Jazon, then I'll bring Jazon to the water! And she did just that. She ran back to her son and brought him to the puddle. As she watched him drink, she was struck by how clean and clear the water was. Almost as if it had been provided by a supernatural being. But she soon abandoned this line of thought, as she didn't care how the water had gotten there. She was just glad it was there.

When they had gotten their fill, she sent Jazon back to the hut to wait for supper.

As he walked away, Lilya heard a voice, clear as day.

"Feed him." It said. She looked around. There was nobody in sight.

That was odd. She thought. She shrugged and soon forgot she had heard anything. Perhaps the hot sun was simply addling her mind. When she finally had a sufficient armful sticks, a shadow that was not her own crossed her path. She looked for the source, and found a man about a decade her senior. He had brown hair that was graying, and skin as dark as her own. His smile was weathered, but genuine. When he spoke, his voice was deeper than she expected.

"Could you bring me some water, my Lady? I have been traveling for some time in this sun." She chuckled.

"If you had asked for that at any other time, I would have had to refuse. But by the grace of the gods, I have just been blessed with another supply of water. Please, if you'll come with me, I can take you to it. My name is Lilya, my lord."

"And I am Elyot." Upon hearing his name, Lilya finally noticed the tassels on the hem of his tunic, denoting his race. He was a Havohejian. A follower of the Way, who believes Herij is the only true God and that He is in control of all things. Well, if that was the case, then obviously his prayers had gone unanswered. Like those of everyone else these last seven years.

When they reached the puddle, the man drank his fill. Then he spoke.

"And may I also have something to eat my Lady?" At this, Lilya was taken aback. The words that were spoken to her not an hour before came back to her mind. "Feed him". But she couldn't.

"As surely as your LORD, Herij, lives, I have no food to give you. I have just a handful of flour and a little oil in a jug to make one last meal for my son and I, that we may eat of it and then die."

"Go home and do as you have said. But first, make me a loaf from what you have and then make food for you and your son. For this is what Herij, the God of Gazathen says: 'The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day I send rain upon the land'."

Lilya did not know what to believe. She had never believed in Herij. But maybe Herij was, in fact, who had spoken to her. Maybe the words had even been about this man before her. So, stepping out in faith, she did as the man said. After all, what had she really to lose?

She brought Elyot home, and prepared the meal in his presence. After he ate, she looked to her jar of flour and her jug of oil, expecting them to find them empty.

But they weren't. They were as full as if she had just gone out and bought more. She was aghast. She looked at Elyot, who just gave her a knowing smile. Then she looked at Jazon, who was just as surprised as she.

Lilya fell to her knees in front of Elyot.

"Surely your God, Herij, is the one true God. The God who made heaven and earth and who sent you to me in my hour of need. Praise be to Him!"

"Yes, my daughter. All praise be to Him! Now, shouldn't you make some food for you and your son as well?" They all laughed, and Lilya jumped up to do as he bade her.

And Herij's word proved true. Lilya and her son never ran out of either flour or oil for all the remaining days of the famine. And their little puddle never went dry either for all the days of the drought.