I release a long breath as I finally rest my legs by leaning against the wide ,stiff oak tree that I’ve had the pleasure to call my home for the past two weeks. I take out the slightly squashed small loaf of bread that I acquired from someone’s market stand while everyone was too focused on the chaos. I wouldnt consider myself a true criminal just yet. While looting wasn’t my preferable method of getting food, the opportunity simply presented itself and I would be a fool not to take it. I follow a sort of routine these last nights which consists of making a fire, placing my river-washed clothes nearby it so they are dry for the next day, and eat while I think of my next destination. I eat as slow as my growling stomach will allow me to because I know the inescapable nightmares that will soon arrive. I assume that’s my price to pay. I might not have any legal punishment since I haven’t been stupid enough to get caught yet, but I am getting what I deserve in other ways I suppose.