The first morning escaped the grasp of Scarlett's memory. She rose before the sun and began what would become her daily routine, searching for forgotten and palatable food.
As she rode back to Tara, she noticed there was movement in the house. Mammy stood at the back door with young Kit, waiting for her lamb. Pork had woken Mister Gerald from his whiskey induced stupor. Prissy was attending to the young misses after words of warning from her ever watchful mother, whilst said mother was seeing to Miss Melly and the baby.
Scarlett presented her findings to Mammy with a distinct lack of ceremony, patted her boys on the head and murmured what resembled a 'Good Morning', before making her way to see the patients. Kit and Leon followed her and together they sat at the bottom of Melly's bed, before Mammy summoned them for breakfast.
It was a pitiful fare, a hodgepodge of the findings that would have to last thirteen people the entire day. Scarlett's rebellious mind thought of days past, where there would be a bountiful feast of cornbread, fresh from the oven, grits, eggs, bacon, sausages, succulent ham... She pulled her mind out of the past and saw that the memory had affected Kit, also, who squirmed away from the food and cried out that he wanted rice and breadsticks.
"I'm sorry Kit, this is all there is. Just eat it and you can help mother."
Kit's little heart jumped at his mother's words and with immense strength, he accepted her attempts to feed him. Scarlett wanted to laugh at the sight of his scrunched up face but she could not summon the energy. It was harder to convince Leon to eat but one frown from his mother solved any faddy ways. Afterwards, she helped them down from the chair and they walked around Tara, hand in hand, to find anything salvageable. Later, they sat in the parlour until their little eyes were too heavy to keep open and she took them to bed before beginning a restless sleep herself.
This would be the routine for the next few days. Mammy watched approvingly of her lamb making an effort with her boys. She could not bear the sight of her young mistress not eating and when she approached her about it, Scarlett professed that she was not hungry. There were other mouths, sick mouths who needed it more. When Mammy tried to argue the case further, Scarlett would look at her with dull, blank, green eyes and step outside.
During those days, Scarlett would make regular visits to the swamp. It became her refuge. Her saving grace. If ever they needed her and she wasn't in the house, they would head there immediately and pull her back from her reverie and into the present. One day, Kit had been sitting with Mammy, waiting for his mother to come and read to him. The minutes passed before he decided to find her himself. His little legs carried him out the back of the house and past the ghosts of the stables. He reached the clearing to find his mother sitting against a tree, staring out to the distance. His bleak call for her fell on deaf ears. He was about to head back to the house when his legs gave way and he tripped over that same spot that Scarlett had been victim to, merely days before. She felt him brush against her and before the tears that were building in his eyes could fall, she pulled him to her and absent-mindedly brushed her fingers through his hair. Kit leant his head against her and clutched her side to him.
No words were spoken. They were not needed. The two would have stayed nestled together if Mammy had not come in search of them. She was tempted to leave them there until logic mixed with a degree of indignation set upon her.
"Miss Scarlett, Mister Kit! What yo' doing scaring old Mammy like that. Yo' come in the house right now before yo' catch you're death."
Kit and his mother shared a look of resignation before he jumped off her lap. Scarlett held onto the tree and leant against it as the feeling slowly returned to her legs. She then scooped up her boy and followed Mammy, turning a deaf ear to her protestations.
