Third hand, semi trained person needed to "here hold this'," Pass tools, shine lights. -- Anon Guest
There are only so many fates when you're an orphan, and Krop figured he was one of the luckier ones. Sold to a travelling show as a crewman's prentice. The food was a great deal better than orphanage food, but you could say that about any food outside of an orphanage or a monastery. In one, the meals were bland and austere because the monks took a vow of poverty. In the other, the meals were bland, austere, and cold because the people who gave to the people in need didn't believe in wasting anything on the poor. Even heat.
So after a literal lifetime of cold, sour gruel and a plank for a bed and a horsehair blanket, Krop was insanely grateful for warm porridge and small ale and a nest in the prop cart made out of spare quilts and a net made to keep things near the ceiling. And all Krop had to do was be useful in small ways.
Every morning after the breakfast, Krop would tail after the camp chef and help scrub the big cauldron that had previously held the porridge. Krop was, after all, small enough to get all the way inside and get at all the stains. The pot had never been cleaner, and everyone in the train was grateful for that. No more episodes of gut worms. Krop would gather faggots and kindling for the next fire, and fill his pockets with little things he found that looked kind of useful.