A few minutes later a wagon came through the street serving up a thick gruel for breakfast. Patrick heard grumbling from some of the people in the other tents. Obviously, they were tired of gruel. He had to admit it didn't look terribly appetizing.
"Thank you for your kindness," Patrick said as he took his bowl.
"New here, right?" the man who was serving it said. "You won't be so thankful in a week."
"If there is anything I can do to help," Patrick replied. "You can find me here. My daughter is also good with food."
"Grain is all we have in quantity enough to feed everyone," the man said, "and we're likely to run out of that soon enough too."
"Do you have spices? Herbs? Even honey?" Patrick said, "A little can add variety, and variety may stem complaints."
"I'll speak to the quartermaster." The man clicked at the horses and drove them on perhaps twenty yards before stopping. Patrick could hear the groans, but no one refused the food.