“You mean, life in the slums?” She blinks at me, surprised by my blunt correction. “There’s not much to tell. Life on the streets isn’t much of a life at all.” I look her right in the eyes before turning to face the hushed crowd. “These past few years, hunger and cold have been the only constant in my life. But it’s not just me. There are dozens of others who sleep on the same hard cobblestone I did. Dozens of others who will do anything for a single shilling.” I pause and take a breath. “Living in the slums is survival of the fittest. So, in a way, I’m more prepared for these Trials than
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