It has been a year, much has changed. I have learned to adapt, to survive. In this current situation, at least from what I have surmised.

My early years weren't something you could call ideal, at least from what I can remember. What I was told, I was an orphan, or rather an abandoned child. That struggled to survive, ever since I knew of myself.

At that time world was harsh but bearable. Muddy streets, busy people rushing about, not paying attention to little ol' me. It happened, multiple times, getting stepped on. Even though, I tried to sleep in a desolate area, tucked away. Someone would always somehow manage to pass there, while rushing, not paying attention. Being a bump, for their muddy shoes. It was horrendous. The pain was manageable, filth off their outsoles was not. Water was already scarce, trying to clean yourself was impossible. With filth came sickness. Well, at least that served to improve my resilience, somewhat.

The thing that came through for me, that I wasn't even aware of at the time. Were people, well at least, people that looked similar to me. That is what I estimated, by the fact that they slept as well as ate the same things that I did. I copied them. Followed where they got food, their behavior. Little things that, from what I had noticed improved their lifestyle.

Like leaving crumbs, or if you were lucky bones. Little animals would come, and if you were lucky you would manage to catch them. But after that came more problems. I saw people die, from eating them as is. I was lucky to be born patient. And not stop midway. Bigger people, bigger than me, would use something, what I learned was called, well still is called fire. Not only did it make, the catch palatable. But safe too. With that came more issues. It smelled, oh god did it smell delicious. Enough for people to kill for. So people got creative, burying animals under the fire, would suppress that delicious smell, at least somewhat. And made it less risky.

There was something, luck-based. If you were lucky, a person, with shoes. And noticeably cleaner clothes. Sometimes from a carriage, would give you some metal. From what I have seen, there were multiple colors and designs of it. Yellow was the best, brown worst, they told me. Well, we never saw yellow, but I knew. One brown metal coin, which was so small. Somehow was equal to enough food to last me at least three days. And that led me to believe if I ever was lucky enough. To get that one yellow coin, I would be set for a year.

But enough of that. I was young. People would talk and from what I learned, there was still a chance for me. There was a turning point, even for people like me. Once they got old enough, you would unlock something. Something that had infinite potential. Something that could turn you, into something that you could never achieve. At least we couldn't. There were ways, for nicely clothed people. Well, I had no time to think about that, food, water, and other day-to-day needs were the priority.

Only later, have I learned. Jealousy, why would people allow for equality? If everyone had infinite potential, what made them special? Why did people like me still exist, if someone from my standing got to a position where they had nice clothes? Wouldn't they help out? Even little things made a difference!

People are beasts, their instincts of preservation. Trying to progress, always wanting more. That is what I have noticed. Once you tried the meat, why would you go back to eating dirt? Rotten bread? Why go backward, if the difference between dirt and the meat was so drastic, what was next? Is there something, that is better than meat? So that once you taste it, the meat becomes dirt? If the meat tastes like dirt at that point, how would actual dirt taste? Once you taste the bliss, would you go back?

My whole world was three streets. One particularly nasty corner, for reliving yourself. Not much further was the safest spot. Where children would often sleep. The second street was where people would talk, converse with each other, giving tips, making jokes. There were also fires, both for warming oneself, but cooking too. The trick was burying your meat. So that no one, sees you. If they saw you, well meat became fair gain. Whoever was bigger, or stealthier. Would enjoy.

The third street was like a whole new world. It smelled nice. Houses had more windows. There were shops. Food shops, god if you had that brown, well bronze coin. The fresh bread was amazing. If you had the will, to save even a little bit. The taste of salty bread with meat was amazing. But you couldn't just walk in, and buy what you wanted. We were filthy, looked down upon. Even though as a young person, you don't notice those little things. Unless they start yelling for you to get lost.

It was a whole procedure. Once when I got lucky and tried to walk inside. It wasn't pretty. I almost lost the coin. Thankfully, they spared me. I was told to wait behind, or my smelly self would chase the customers away. In that instance I was, again reminded, patience and observation were the key. Well after waiting for what seemed like ages, well it probably was. Because it was getting dark already, and my stomach was empty. They gave me three bread rolls, it was like a miracle. Who would want an inedible small coin, for actual food?

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

After that, in few more instances. I found myself in possession of bronze coins. I realized that, well they were small and brown. The color of dirt and well dirt was everywhere. It was much easier to hide it, for especially nasty days. When it was cold, even animals wouldn't come out. And rotten food would get scarce. If you managed to sneak away and buy a bread roll at that horrible time. It tasted so much sweeter.

One morning, I heard few older boys talk. It was something about a war? They talked about things that I, at that time couldn't comprehend. And it was understandable. Well, my world rotated around three streets. Apparently, these three streets, combined with similar streets made a village. More villages combined into a town, with a grander center. The same went for towns and cities. The only difference was after that, they could be a part of a kingdom or an empire.

The scale of such things escaped me. But from things that I had learned so far, things tend to escalate. Meat is much better than bread, so going by that. Village compared to a city, it couldn't compare. With that came questions, how does one get to a city? Do you just follow the streets, and while doing so you will find it? Well, I wasn't brave enough, yet to try.

Days went on, my lucky game. Was no longer. With war coming. Which was apparently a fight, but much more escalated. I couldn't even imagine, fights between thousands or even millions. In our three streets, well there weren't more than fifty people. And still some starved every week, or month. Feeding millions must be something. The sheer amount of food is astounding. Well, that is what I imagined.

One more thing that I have noticed, were names. It was early morning. Two older guys overheard people in the shop using names. Well same as bread, they decided to try and name themselves. They were close, always sticking together. And trying to get each other's attention, without pointing, or raising their voice. Taller one decided to name his friend Dirtyhair, I could somewhat agree. Having long hair with dirt in it. It made sense. While Dirtyhair decided to call him, well name him Bronzedirt, his skin being between the color of the dirt and bronze coins.

They argued.

"I don't look like dirt, dirt is dirt. And what does it have to do with my hair." Dirtyhair complained. " Why couldn't you use that head of yours, and come up with something good. Like Breadsmell."

Exasperated, Bronzedirt looked at him. "Do you really have the right to complain?" he said with a raised eyebrow.

Having complained, for what looked like a while, they continued.

"Fine, whatever." Dirtyhair shrugged. "If this makes our lives, a little bit easier. I don't have reason to be mad." switching the topic Dirtyhair looked at his only friend. There were others, somewhat similar to him, he mused. 'Well, at least the way that they were dirty. And smelled like shit. But somehow, they were always closer... compared to the rest.' Thinking so far he smiled 'He always felt that they were unlucky, it always seemed like others had more. But at least they had each other'.

'Looking at the dirty, long-haired friend. Well, his only friend so far. He was more talkative, always there to help out. A cheery guy that didn't mind sharing.' Bronzedirt couldn't help but sigh. "We both have dirt in our names, I guess that makes us somewhat closer, or well not really. Forget that, what are you planning to do if this war, that those fancy people keep talking about, really happens?" Running his hand, through his short hair, while sighing. " You know that I will follow you, whatever you decide. You always had better ideas than me, and they seem to work out most of the time."

"I don't know, all we have seen so far is this village." Blinking, Dirtyhair continued. "And even at the edge of it, we couldn't spot a sign of the city." Drawing a circle in the ground, he pointed. "There are five or six roads, and apparently not a single one of them is safe. You saw as well, last week the bloodied group of people that followed that one carriage." Looking annoyed, he continued. "They were awakened as well, which already gives them a huge advantage. Not to mention their numbers." As he spoke, he couldn't help but notice how his friend's shoulders sagged. 'If only we were lucky.' He thought. 'How much different would our lives be. The difference in opportunities would be much bigger. They would at least have some protection from the city. Not like here, where they were nothing. Abandoned, and unwanted. Who would like smelly, ragged people in their village? Nothing of that mattered now.'

Winking, Dirtyhair continued with a cheery voice. "Don't look so down, from what they are saying. War is still far from us. It might never come, and if it does. We are close to our awakening. You never know, maybe you or me will get a good class. They are always talking about how harsh conditions bring out the potential inside of us. Maybe just maybe, we'll get the opportunity and raise up, eat like kings. And finally not worry, about day-to-day needs."

Looking at his cheery face, Bronzedirt couldn't help but relax a bit. 'So far he was always right, his positive outlook on our little world would always bring a smile back to my face.'

Even though their conversation was short and mostly useless to me. I realized, that I too will have time to prepare. If what they were talking about is true. The war was far away, and even if it came. I had time to prepare, collect some bronze coins, make sure I could survive. I had no idea what I would do if they closed that bread shop.

For a moment I thought, maybe I could go. Talk to them, become friends? As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I pushed it down. I didn't have the luxury to share or hope that they would share with me. Because I talked to them, they were bigger than me as well. And that was scary, it didn't feel like a safe option. So I didn't. I managed so far alone, and risk wasn't an option now.

What we weren't aware of, is that there are much worse things in this world. Then just war.