Tom remained motionless for a long time, clutching his bowl of porridge. Zephyr sat nearby, silent, though he stole occasional glances to see if the man had moved.
Just as Zephyr began to feel the creep of boredom, he noticed a subtle shift in the man's eyes. Abruptly, Tom twisted his wrist and dumped the contents of his bowl onto the floor.
'Such a waste.'
Zephyr stared at the porridge splattered on the dirt.
'Why did he have to…'
Tom ignored the mess. He walked past Zephyr without a word and entered the hut. A moment later, he emerged wearing thicker, warmer clothes and carrying a heavy earthenware pot filled with fresh porridge.
"You can stay here," Tom said, his voice flat. "I will come back in the morning."
He walked a few meters away from the hut, then stopped. Without warning, he hurled the entire pot onto the hard ground.
The earthenware shattered instantly, sending shards and porridge flying.
