You were like them once, too. [ Thoughts, feelings. They swim around his head. His head tilts to one side as he listens. Yes. He was the small one, once. His hands lift before him, and he stares down at them: pale fingers poking through leather gloves. The echo of pain, not his.
He worked. Aching hands reaching for the fruits of labour, and then... stolen. Blood and bruises. ]
They were small, soft. Scared. You fed them so they wouldn't know your hunger, your anger.
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He worked. Aching hands reaching for the fruits of labour, and then... stolen. Blood and bruises. ]
They were small, soft. Scared. You fed them so they wouldn't know your hunger, your anger.