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Muriel loved her daughter but the small family was very, very poor, with no extra funds for anything but survival. Time passed, and Hannah grew. Some months were easier than others. A few times Hannah or Muriel - or both - became very sick, but whether by luck or magical intervention on Belboz's part they always pulled through. The slums where they lived were ever dirty and every once in a while, they found cause to travel to the nearby town where there lived a few people one could even call wealthy. Hannah grew up wanting nothing more than to be like these people - happy and beautiful and comfortable. She had just turned five when the dragon came. Their slums were razed to the ground. Muriel took Hannah, grabbing up their life savings - a belt pouch containing nine copper pieces - and fled their home minutes before it burned. Hannah cried and cried, wishing for a life of ease and peace. Thus they found themselves begging on the streets of that village they had once visited only every so often. They had nothing, and were always hungry. Hannah saw specimens of the upper class every single day, and the desire to be like them ever grew in her heart. It was all she wanted. She did not understand that even the wealthy feared death by dragonfire. In her eyes, rich was the only logical thing to hope to be.
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