Wind by Naomi kritzer(8)

Dagmar’s face was red with frustration and suppressed tears, but she brought Zimeya a chamber pot and helped her use it, and then helped her into a blouse that had belonged to Dagmar’s older daughter. Then she propped Zimeya up on her makeshift bed so that she could eat some of the barley and vegetable stew Dagmar had made for dinner, and scrubbed the dishes.
Zimeya ate everything in her bowl and then set it aside, watching Dagmar. “I don’t understand your life,” she said. “It makes no sense.”