Living in the streets were not as bad as one would think. The beggars took me in and showed me the ways. They showed me which street vendors to avoid and which ones were sympathetic to our situation. Some would toss us a scrap of bread or an apple that was starting to bruise, while others turned up there nose at us.
The weather had started to turn cold and I was not happy about living outdoors. I had to do something to get someone to allow me inside. I walked down to the partially frozen stream and washed the best that I could, trying to make myself pretty. I dug through the trash and found a nice dress that someone had thrown out due to a small tear. It was almost a perfect fit that accentuated my bosom. Surely I could get someone to turn their head and take me in.
After a month of smiling and batting my eyes, I had no luck. It was time to make someone take me in. I slowly walked up to a vendor that hated us beggars. Reaching out, I grabbed a small loaf of bread, making sure he saw me before I turned to run. He grabbed my arm and began yelling at me. I spit in his face and that is when I got what I had wanted, he called for a city guard.
The beggars all stood there, defending me. They said that I had done nothing wrong, that this man just attacked me. That, of course, was not true and the guard did not believe them, thankfully. Within a few minutes, I was thrown into a castle dungeon and labeled a thief.
The dungeon was cold, but not nearly as cold as outside. It was dark and damp. I was not alone down there. There was two other men, whom also were caught stealing. One of them spoke.
"And what did you do to get yourself thrown in here pretty lady?"
My response was a simple one, "I was hungry and took a loaf of bread from a vendor."
The other shook his head, "You choose death over being a little hungry? Foolish girl."
"Death?" I questioned, I was more than a little confused.
"The punishment for stealing in this town is hanging."
I gulped. This had not worked out the way I had planned. Could the Lord really have me hung for attempting to steal a measly loaf of bread? I had to find out.
"Guard? I wish to speak to Lord Jarin at once."
The guard merely laughed at me, "The Lord doesn't speak to thieves."
For the next two days, I sat in a corner of my little cell and cried. I wondered if all people, all over the world treated the less fortunate the way they did here. Here, if you had money, or power, or physical strength, you were treated with respect and people like myself were forced to serve you.
I was becoming angry at my parents, whoever they were, for abandoning me. They were the ones who put me in the situation I was in. Could a life with them really have been worse than the life they left me with?
