Beggar I

I woke up and looked around, feeling strange. The dark alley I was in seemed familiar to me.

"Where am I?"

The cold bit at my bones and the stench of the streets clung to my tattered clothes. I truly felt at home.

The imperial capital, with its grand spires and bustling marketplaces, was a place of stark contrasts. For every carriage that rolled past, there were dozens of us—beggars—huddled in the shadows, trying to survive.

"You're up already? Did you break something this time?" A young brown-haired boy in similar tattered clothes and condition to me asked.

"I didn't break anything, I think."

Our group was a motley crew. There was Tom, who had lost an eye in some forgotten skirmish, his hair bright red. There was Jack, the one who checked on me, with eyes like a lion and a cough that never seemed to leave him. There was Blan, And then there was me, just another face in our group, trying to find scraps of food and a warm place to sleep.