Humas

ㅤ She tried to live correctly, according to new views. She even managed to believe in a clear-headed future, when people thanked her for saving her, despite her mixed blood. She tried to believe that she had a place in this world... But there was none. And neither humas nor gajumas changed at all after the crisis. Militsa was pelted with stones. For no reason. It was just that a baby in the arms of a huma woman burst into tears, and she was “lucky” enough to be passing by. Humas have always had a nasty habit of finding someone to blame for everything and hating those who were different. Like a herd. The fewer people there were, the easier it was to find understanding. She didn't want to stoop to their level. She didn't want to harm anyone. But they even prevented her from leaving. It had been a poor year, so hunger and despair had made the people especially embittered. However, there were still those who retained their sanity. "Enough!" Veigue stood up for Militsa. He pulled her out of hell and led her away, saying practically nothing, barely responding to all her questions. Soon Militsa also stopped bothering him. She walked simply to go somewhere; standing still was unbearable. She froze on the threshold of the house, where Veigue pointed her with an insistent gaze. She didn't dare say a word, not understanding why he'd brought her there. He had to take her hand and practically force her in. "It's safe here," Veigue said calmly and quietly. She didn't want anything. The happy family was preparing for dinner, setting the table, chatting about nothing. And they didn't care that they had to eat a meager meal to save money. They didn't care that a half-breed stranger, the kind so hated by the whole world for breaking down the boundaries of worldviews with their very existence, would be sitting at their table. Sitting on the floor to the side, her knees drawn up to her chest, Militsa found it hard to look at them. It was painful and hurtful. She struggled to suppress the absurd envy she felt for them. She was proud of her blood. She was proud of who she was. And proud of the fact that she had been born not by someone's mistake, but out of love, even if she hadn't known it for a long time. But sometimes life was so hard… Militsa didn't sit down at the common table. The stomach insistently demanded that it get some food, but the brain resolutely warned that it would not accept the food, getting stuck in the throat like a lump of emotions. "Please, at least eat the pie," Claire begged. Lately they hadn't been able to indulge themselves in peach pie very often, but whenever possible they found an excuse. "I don't want to," Militsa pressed her knees closer to herself, burying her nose in them so as not to meet anyone’s gaze. Veigue stood up from the table decisively and unusually abruptly, causing even Claire's mother to fall silent. Without a word, he picked up a low stool, covered it with an embroidered cotton napkin, and placed it in front of Militsa. The flat surface was large enough to accommodate a cup of hot tea and a plate with a slice of pie. "Claire's peach pie is always incredibly delicious. Try it," he said, looking down, trying not to embarrass his guest with his gaze. Then he stood and smiled at her. "If you're not ready to eat at the common table, I'll make you a separate one tonight." 'Weird humas,' the thought flashed through Militsa's head, along with surprise. They always seemed strange to her. Their entire company, which once accepted Hilda. Now they had taken her in, too, though each member of Veigu's group had long since gone their own way. Even Hilda had found happiness, which sometimes made Militsa feel lost. Lonely. With an absent gaze, her thoughts somewhere very far away, Militsa looked at the piece of pie. Unconsciously, she reached for it. She took a bite. 'Delicious!' Militsa was sincerely amazed, expressing this with her whole appearance. She couldn't have imagined food could taste so good. Claire smiled kindly, offering more when Militsa finished her first piece. An empty place at the table still awaited her, and all the members of the stranger's family looked at her invitingly. For some reason, Militsa's heart felt lighter, warmer. She stood and sat down at the common table. ㅤ