Team Foster-Sencen: Aww, thank you so much! I'm glad you like the story, the characters, and my trashy writing. Here, have an update! Sorry it took me forever-

Linhsong22: As am I. Enjoy!

(As you can see here, I'm a very social person, but much too socially inept to interact with people through review answers. Sigh.)

THE PAPERWORK WENT THROUGH WITHOUT ERROR.

Asher had been sent to a group home in New York, after that, and she had run. She was done being tossed around by the system, she could take care of herself just fine.

She didn't need some broke assholes adopting and/or fostering her just for money. Everyone knew that kids over the age of three had almost no chance of being adopted, and Asher happened to be thirteen.

With her, Asher had taken: a hundred dollars worth of savings, some food (apples and granola bars), and some spare clothing.

Being homeless was an interesting experience. The first few weeks were okay-ish. Asher slept on some semi-comfortable benches, survived off of what she had, and public bathrooms were quite easy to slip into unnoticed.

She bought some more food when her stash began to run low, but other than that, she was saving her money and made a point to budget carefully. And then it slowly got worse for Asher.

The streets were dangerous, Asher knew, everyone knew. Homeless people were always at great risk, because they were "easy targets." Please, it was clear they'd never met Asher before, she'd kick their asses into next week.

Maybe. Or maybe that's what they'd do to her… with that, Asher realized she should've taken a knife with her.

ASHER HAD NOT REALIZED SHE WAS BEING FOLLOWED.

Everything had been going just fine. She had adjusted to her new life. The benches had grown comfier as she'd gotten used to them, and Asher could take care of herself, this was just proof of it.

She'd resorted to stealing food when the money had run out, and though the amount she got was still not nearly enough, she was grateful for every bite.

Asher was on her own, and she loved every second of it. She doubted CPS even cared enough to look for her - who would adopt Asher? - but she still freaked out every time she saw anything that bore resemblance to CPS.

This greatly amused Mustache, the raccoon who'd taken to following Asher around. If Mustache hadn't been a raccoon, Asher would've yeeted him to the United Kingdom by then.

Pretentious little shit, that raccoon was. Even more so than Asher herself!

"Glad you find this so hilarious, what if they were to catch me, hmm? What then, 'Stache? Who would feed you?"

That shut the asshole raccoon up.

"That's what I thought," Asher said, smirking smugly.

The raccoon somehow managed to glare at her, turning his nose up and looking away, as if he had a developed brain. Well, he did - but as if he had a fully developed human brain, which wouldn't be surprised by.

The raccoon was a nonesuch, that was for sure. No other raccoons like Mustache. Every now and then, he'd bring her food, which was greatly appreciated, and something no other raccoon would care enough to do.

But, Mustache also woke up at two in the morning to attack his own foot with a viciousness Asher hadn't known creatures could inflict upon themselves, so yes, there were downsides to a pet raccoon.

Asher maintained a sense of calmness with him, though, for he was a friend.

And friends chase each other down the street in the early morning, when not even the roosters are awake, with knives, right?

Anyway, Asher and Mustache had been walking around, taking in the fresh air. If you could call it fresh, that is. A typical morning stroll.

Not really, the two were on their way to the Sunday Farmer's Market to… acquire food. Yes, that's it, just acquire some food.

A bearded man, dark hair and blue eyes, had been walking behind them with a dog. Asher figured he was on his way to the Farmer's Market as well, and ignored him. The man seemed irrelevant enough.

But… he wasn't, and Asher was incredibly stupid, apparently.

"Hello, Asher," The man said, voice soft and calm. And Asher froze, because how did this man know her name? This wasn't a book, and she wasn't the main character. There was no evil author slowly planning her doom.

She wasn't necessarily important.

Asher, being Asher, did the only logical-seeming thing. She grabbed Mustache and ran.

Word Count: 710 words

I shall sing Mustache's praises until the end of time. I've always wanted a pet raccoon, I don't know why, but Mustache is literally a written dream for me. He's also really fun to write about.

I hope 710 words makes up for my weeks of absence! I'll try and update sooner, I swear.

(See, this is Araceli making an empty promise. This will most likely happen many times regarding updates. If this actually gets updated again this month, she'll jump into the freezing-cold pool in her backyard.)

-Araceli