Miysuke and Jack realized they had made a big mistake.

A big one indeed.

On that same night of planning–with the curly map in hand–they were planning to leave Oceanuris.

But how could they? In over 900 years, no one left the borders of the great Oceanuris. In fact, it was so secluded and closed off that if you had asked anyone outside of the river borders, they wouldn't even know what Oceanuris was.

Ruled by the Great Valencia Qa, Oceanuris had been closed off from the world inside and outside.

Well, the river borders were not the only walls that blocked Oceanuris. There was also literally a stone wall that enclosed the Oceanuris people.

Miysuke and Jack managed to climb those tall walls. Their feet gripped on every loose brick and nook they could find. There were very few; the walls were very smooth.

And they made it out of Oceanuris, where they were greeted by the ocean and no place to stand. Oceanuris was literally isolated. Miysuke and Jack couldn't think of any way to climb back in for their children–with the rather deeper waters and dark night.

They couldn't get back inside.

How did they not think this through?

Jack and Miysuke tried climbing for hours on the great wall. Their wet hands were gripping onto every bit possible that stuck out from the wall before it slipped into the sea. Or close to it, by a small perimeter of land they barely stood on.

And when they turned around, one figure in shadow held a sword in the air.

And with a deafening silence, he ran it through two bodies. SLASH!

He grunted and furrowed his brows, brushing his oversized jacket, with a long belt underneath that was decorated like a crown.

In the night, he picked each eye out and held every vein in his hand. He blinked his bushy eyelashes and slurped up the two. Gulp. Gulp. He drank the crimson liquid that seeped from Mikusye and Jack. He quickly bit off each of their skins and wiped his hands, standing up to a clean plate. And no one would ever know.

No one should ever even think of leaving Oceanuris.

#

Leiyun woke up with a stretch.

And she was getting ready for the day. The sun shone brightly as she combed her pink hair.

And washed her freckled face.

And put on her flats.

She opened the door from her bedroom, fully expecting the warm smell of Ballo to fill the small room, smells of Ballo flowers and oil drifting to her nose.

She expected her Nai and Tai to be waiting for her by the wide table, window open as they cooked with Bes leaves, Ballo pistils, and matcho leaves, with big smiles and light humor poking as they cooked. They would call Leiyun "Ayo!" and would gleefully laugh and dance and play together as Nai poked her and said, "Leiyun, the food's getting cold!"

But there was none of that.

Instead the warm sunlight merely lit an empty room.

"Nai? Tai?" Leiyun glanced around. Perhaps they were hiding. And were just waiting for me.

She looked behind the nightstands with now-dimmed Youmlay berry lamps. She lifted those bowl-like lamps, maybe Nainai and Taitai shrunk somehow.

And then she pulled all the nightstand drawers–each nightstand had two of them–and examined the inside. She pushed them all back, not finding much in there.

There should have been some things in there, surely. Nai and Tai would put some of their belongings in there–clothes and leaves.

Leiyun looked everywhere in that big room.

Then a thought came to her.

"Oh! My siblings! Maybe Nai and Tai are feeding them!"

Leiyun raced into her siblings' room. There were three tiny cushions that laid each child. Small, handmade toys would be scattered around; Leiyun made them with Nainai and Taitai. Dolls, yarn balls, they were made of cheap materials. There were also five large jugs of milk sitting on cupboards, with wooden lids and pink bows around each body.

They were also very full, just bought recently.

Nai and Tai were not there.

Leiyun bit her lip and frowned.

"Oh." With a disappointed sigh and saddened eyes, she swallowed and shook her head. Glancing at her flat shoes and at her infant siblings, she removed the shoes off her feet.

"Well, you can't be here alone," she said, mostly to herself. "I've seen Nai and Tai do it plenty of times; I'll just take care of you guys while they're gone." Leiyun grabbed one of the large jugs and a baby bottle nearby–it had the same handmade feel as everything else in the room–and unscrewed the wooden lid.

It was quite big for the girl's hand; her fingers couldn't reach the edges of the lid. But she had to grow. She couldn't have this baby hand forever if her siblings depended on it.

So, she spread her hands out–to a hand stressing degree–and reached for the edges of the lid. She slowly unskewed the lid–yink! yink!–and got the lid unskewed.

Now she had to pour the milk into the bottle. And after removing the "nipple lid", she poured the milk in slowly. Maybe some drops of milk splattered on the floor. And some drops trickled onto her arms–she found that whole ordeal to be quite unsatisfying.

And as she fed and cared for her siblings, she would take a quick peek outside the room every so often. Would Nai and Tai show up?

She also kept glancing at the window; first the sun was high in the sky, then the sun and sky was pink and orange. Soon, she kept glancing and nurturing and walking around the house barefoot until the sun was no longer there.

Now, in the night, Leiyun sat on the floor of her siblings' room, eating leftover pear her parents stored in a kitchen cabinet.

Oh, where were Nainai and Taitai? She wondered and cried. Small tears would squeeze their way out of her eyes and into her freckled cheeks. She yawned and stretched. curling into a small ball on the floor.

And then she slept.