She's so hungry.

She's been traveling for a few days now - three? four? three or four, anyway, probably. It's hard to think when she's this tired.

She's not going back, though. She might die - she's increasingly aware that that's a real possibility - but at least she'll die free, on her own terms. It's not much, but if it's the best she can do, well. It's not okay, not really, but what ever is? It's better than most kids get.

She's so hungry, though.

She finds a quiet nook in an alley behind some stores - a little convenience store, a pet shop, some kind of electronics store probably, she's not looking too closely - and tries to rest, regain a little strength, maybe sleep. She can't stay long, not with them looking for her, but it's better to rest when she finds someplace safe than to collapse someplace dangerous.

She's still there, wedged between a planter and a pile of chairs, when a worker comes out of the convenience store with a cardboard box hoisted onto one shoulder, full of bags of chips. He lifts the lid of the dumpster and empties it in.

She hadn't realized dumpsters opened, had no idea what they were for. Well. Now she knows.

She's so hungry.

She waits, though, until she's sure the worker isn't going to come back with another load, and then drags a chair over and fishes out a couple bags of chips.

This is, as it turns out, a mistake.