I ate gruel today. I eat gruel every day.
But today, the formless slop, the leavings of the soldiers’ meals, tasted as sweet as warm bread and honey.
I ate my gruel with a smile. Then, I pocketed my spoon and rose from my place in the dirt. I clutched the hidden spoon as I walked toward the king’s own tent. No one noticed me. No one ever noticed the captives. We were fodder, nothing more.
I rushed at the king’s tent before any of them could react, raising the spoon that would dethrone him.