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I then, a bit later, opened my mouth, widely, and a handful of slave gruel, or moist mush, was thrust in my mouth. One swallows it a tiny bit at a time, that one not choke. It is bland, and largely tasteless, but filling, for what one gets of it, and apparently nutritious. It was a far cry from the provenders I had been taught to prepare in the house, ranging from roasted, seasoned bosk and tarsk, and fresh plate breads, with honeys and butters, to frosted pastries and decadent, creamed sauces which, in some cities, were outlawed by sumptuary laws. For what it was worth, the free men with the small caravan did not seem much better off. The rations of Gorean warriors, in the field, I am told, are often austere. A small sack of grain, commonly Sa-Tarna, the Life Daughter, is often carried in the pack, or at one's belt. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter )