Mama's arms wrapped tight around me as we leaned back in the nook of a tree branch, staring through leaves at the glittering, velvety blanket of sky. "Ain't it gorgeous, love?" she whispered.

I nodded and snuggled further into her. She smelled like tree sap and earth.

"You fix it in your mind. Alright?" Her voice was thick, and I craned my neck to look at her.

"Why, Mama?"

She smiled at me, and her eyes glittered same as the sky, except the sky glitter don't never fall, and Mama's glitter looked like it was about to. "Because," she said, kissing my forehead, "after tonight, we ain't gonna get to see this same view 'gain. We gonna be somewhere brand new. Somewhere up there."

She pointed, and my eyes followed her finger to those gleaming stars. "We gonna be in the sky?" I exclaimed.

"Yes, ma'am," she drawled, pulling me into her again. It was chilly with no blanket, but we already done sold all the ones we had. Besides, Mama said we had the sky for a blanket, and she always kept me close and warm.

She stroked my face, and I knew she was wanting me to go to sleep, but as my mind swirled toward drowsy nothingness, it fisted onto a question still hanging in the air. "But how we gonna get there, Mama?" My empty stomach hurt, so I focused on being sleepy instead of hungry. I yawned, little fist coming to cover my mouth.

Her lips brushed my cheek, her silky black hair tickling my face. "Same way those tourists come here, love. One of them fancy shuttles. I'mma take care of you. No matter what. Alright?" I hummed my agreement, and her fingers stayed stroking my face as she whispered, "Now, sleep." Soft fingers ran over my eyes, gently demanding they shut.

They did, every bit of me too tired for any more questions. My little head was curious about one thing, though. Those shuttle station doors only opened out. So how was Mama planning on getting in?

When my eyes blinked open, I was looking over Mama's shoulder, bundled up in her arms. She walked at a clip away from a sky so grey, it wasn't even dawn yet. Wasn't our glittery night, neither though. The forest stretched out behind us, green and lush and perfect. Only thing that wasn't so perfect were those glossy pamphlets those tourists kept dropping everywhere. I couldn't read them, but Mama had told me they said nice things about our planet. A dream clothed in reality—Silestia is so beautiful, once you arrive, you'll never want to leave...

I bobbed up and down as Mama walked. "What're we doing," I mumbled. I was too groggy to put any effort into the words, so when Mama shushed me, I didn't bother asking again. Letting my head rest on her too-bouncy shoulder, I drifted back asleep.

I woke up to madness.

We were somewhere shiny and metal, and there were people screaming—those rich touristy types with all them golden clothes and hair that coulda beat a rainbow for colors. "Don't you lay a hand on her!" Mama shouted, but the big men with those guns that shoot beams of light, they didn't stop coming. I buried my face in her neck, scared, and she held me so tight it hurt. Other, stronger arms wrapped around me, though, and jerked me away.

Mama screamed and tears welled in my eyes, running hot down my cheeks. A man grabbed her, and she fought him like a wild cat. "You bring her back!"

"Mama!" I wailed. They dragged me away. "Mama!"

Her face was pure rage and fear, like a storm so strong, it might blow itself away. She drove her foot into the man's shin, and he let go. She dashed forward, and one of the arms holding me pulled out a gun. She didn't flinch, still flying toward me.

He pulled the trigger.

Light shot out, beaming her in the head. Mama called out, a perfect circle drilled in her skull. She crumpled to the floor with a thud.

The world froze. My lungs begged to scream, but my lips couldn't move. Tourists called out, and all of us watched as blood pooled on the floor. Despite their riches and my rags, despite their age and my youth, for a moment, we all were the very same: humans shocked stock-still by tragedy.

"Well." A woman's crisp voice broke the silence. "What a shame. Put her down, Liet."

The man holding me set me to the ground, but my legs gave out. I ended up sitting tangled, staring at my mama just a few feet away. The urge to stroke her face like she always stroked mine overtook me, and I began to crawl toward her.

A swishing golden skirt moved to block my path. The woman who'd spoken crouched down in front of me, and I paused. "Hello, there."

I blinked at her.

"You're a quiet little thing, aren't you? Not often you find a babe that don't squawk. And all bones too! Why, you must hardly eat."

Her skin was the darkest blue, close to the velvety night sky. I wondered where she came from if people just looked like that, or if she'd painted her skin the same way some tourists painted their hair. Hers was gold like her dress. Not so pretty as Mama's black locks. I went to crawl around her.

She stopped me by cupping my bony cheek with her hand. "It always amazes me how natural you natives are. Simplicity is the strangest form of beauty. Don't you think?"

I nodded because Mama said when tourists ask you something, you tell them yes.

"Why, just look at your hair." She let go of my face to sweep a group of strands, black just like Mama's, into her hand. She glanced back at her party members—a woman with yellow skin and pink hair and a man who was so green, he looked sick. "I mean, have you ever seen something so strangely colorless? She's all whites and blacks. Magnificent."

The man nodded his agreement, but the woman rolled her eyes. "We're late already, Omeni. Let Liet hand the brat off to the station guards, and let's go home."

Omeni rose. "The station guards? Why, that's hardly fair. You wouldn't hold the child accountable for the crimes of her mother, now would you?"

As they argued, I slipped around the golden skirt to my mama's side. Her eyes were still open, but she wasn't looking at me, and that felt awful wrong. "It's time to go to sleep, Mama," I whispered. She didn't close her eyes, and something twisted sharply inside me. My chest hurt, but she needed to sleep, so I stroked her cheek and closed her eyes for her, the way she always did me. Tears leaked down my face, and I tried not to look at the ugly hole they'd put in her head.

"Ew!" the pink girl exclaimed. "She's touching it."

I glanced up at them.

"Oh, shush, Ylessa. Show a little mercy." The gold-skirted woman swished over and scooped me up. "Come on. I'll take care of you."

I couldn't help but remember that was what Mama had promised last night, too.

They bundled me into their shuttle. As we flew off into the stars, I realized Mama's grand scheme was coming true. I was in the sky. And even though some people said when you got dead, you just went into the dirt, me and Mama knew better. When Papa'd died, she'd told me the truth. Your body may go in the ground, but your soul? It flies up into the stars. So she was in the sky too. Just like she'd said.

That didn't help me miss her none less. Sobs wracked my body as I sat in Omeni's lap, and when I got her dress too wet, she set me in the seat beside her. I curled up there and cried myself to sleep.

"Ascrita, get your lazy self up here right now, or Seven Stars help me, I swear—"

"Coming, Omeni!" I scrambled to my feet, throwing my scrubbing cloth into the bucket.

Myrite's brown eyes flashed up at me as I ran by, full of worry and compassion. "Be careful," she whispered. I nodded at her and flew from the trashed Hall and up the stairs.

"Ascrita!" Omeni screeched again, and I burst breathless into her room. It was in just as much a mess as the Hall, aftermath of last night's merrymaking. She lay on the bed, a pool of vomit in the floor nearby. My nose wrinkled, and I tried to block out the familiar smell.

"I'm here." I moved to help her to the bathroom, thinking she'd like to wash up, but she waved me off weakly. Her eyes were glazed, and I knew this was the worst part of it, this part where her mind was still dark and cloudy, but her body felt the weight of last night. A decade had not been kind to her. Then again, neither had the designer drugs.

"Finally. Why are you useless brats never where I need you to be?" I flinch, remembering when she used to dote on me, brushing out my hair like Mama once had, giving me a name from her culture to bring me into her home. Ascrita meant black, like your beautiful black hair, she'd said. Her friends used to be the only ones who called me brat.

Suppose it had only taken a few months for my novelty to wear off. Besides, teenagers weren't anywhere near as cute as scared little girls.

"My tinctures, my tinctures!" she demanded.

I shook my head. "That's only gonna to make it worse later, Omeni."

Her eyes darkened, and I knew I'd made a mistake.

She bolted upright like a springing spider, weariness forgotten. "And who," she shrieked, grasping the front of my dress with bony hands, "do you think you are to decide that?" I might have had the advantage of youth, but I'd always been too small. Her tall frame towered over mine, and the drugs could never steal that wiry strength of crazed fury. She shook me, and I was helpless in her grasp. "I save you from that primitive, backwards little planet, and this is how you repay me? You worthless little twit!"

She shoved me, and I crashed to the ground. As her foot came down on my curled hand, I screamed, bones shrieking in protest. Her heel twisted once, and something crunched. Then she dropped back onto the bed, spent. Her ragged breaths mingled with my own, and I tried to calm myself as my pounding hand pushed fear and pain into my mind.

"My tinctures," she gasped.

It's broken. Gotta be broken. Fingers aren't supposed to bend like that. But Omeni had made a demand, and I couldn't take another round of her wrath right now. I pushed slowly to my feet, channeling my pain into a hissed breath as my steps jostled my hand. Arm cradled to my chest, I retrieved her tray of vials and needles.

One-handed, I simply set them beside her, intending not to prime her dose. She could do it herself. If she gave herself too much, that was her own fault.

But when I saw her eyes light up, cold dread swept through me, and I rushed to awkwardly fill the syringe anyway. Let her have it, and she might just kill herself.

For some reason, I still couldn't convince myself that was a good thing.

Myrite wrapped my hand that night as we sat on the porch, watching the moon rise over the cold desert dunes of Omeni's homeworld. It'd get cold enough soon that we wouldn't be able to stand it, but I always liked to watch the stars for a while. It reminded me of home, and despite the chill, Myrite always sat with me. Though the younger girl had only been here four years, she was from Silestia too, and our bond was thicker than the blood-bond of sisters.

"You're quiet tonight," I said as she finished. My hand still throbbed—I'd probably never get full use of it again, not unless Omeni called for her doctor. Punishments are yours to bear is what she usually told us. How can children learn if no one disciplines them? She had all kinds of ideals like that. Not all of them ended in suffering.

Myrite ducked her head, and I wrapped my good arm around her, drawing her to me. We pressed side-by-side, the heat of our bodies staving off the edge of the cold. "What's got you bothered, Myri?"

She leaned her head on my shoulder, not talking for a long moment. I let her have her silence; sometimes silence was the only way to stay sane. Eventually, her quiet, calm voice threaded through the night air. "Omeni said she was gonna sell me."

"What?" I pulled away to look at her, but she refused to meet my eyes. I shoved down the fear rushing through me and struggled to gather my splintering thoughts. "You know how she gets at those parties. She probably doesn't even remember—"

"It wasn't at the party." Here, she looked at me, and there was a scary certainty in those wide, brown eyes of hers. "It was yesterday, after her morning bath. I was brushing out her hair, and she looked at me in that gold mirror of hers, and she says, 'Myrite, today is the last day you do this.' And I asked her what she meant, and she told me she was selling me to Uzzeer." Tears welled in her eyes, and my insides twisted at the thought of the fat, greasy-haired man and his leering smile. "Ita, I can't do it." Now, she broke, and I folded her into my arms, stroking her back as she sobbed. I didn't dare shush her because then she'd apologize, and Myri had every right to cry until the whole world ran out of water. So I just held her, thinking.

When she quieted, I said, "You're not going to Uzzeer's house."

"How?" she demanded, voice still thick and muffled by my shirt. "You know money don't flow into this house like Omeni pretends it do. The papers are already signed, the credits already transferred. She won't undo it now." She pulled back, eyes demanding I contradict her.

I couldn't, though; Omeni did need the money. All the guards and paid staff had been dismissed before Myrite ever got here. The cleaning bots had quit working two years ago, and it looked like the house AI was headed that way next. We might could afford fixing everything if we didn't spend a forest's worth of credits on 'tinctures' each month. As is, we could barely afford to keep food on the table.

A harsh breath pushed itself out my lungs. "We'll figure something out. We'll have to."

Her doubtful look pressed me to find something more concrete. My brain searched its depths, determined to save her.

My eyes widened. "We'll leave. We'll just leave, Myri."

"And go where?" She threw her hand out to the horizon. "The sand dunes?"

"Past the dunes." I'd caught a fevered hold of this dream, and I wondered if this is how my mother had felt all those years ago, thinking she could save me from starving, that she could give me a better life. "Look, it's a two hour walk to the shuttle station. We'll make it when the sun's getting ready to rise, when the night can't freeze us but before the sun can scorch us. You know?"

Her lips formed an uncertain pout, but I could tell she wanted this to work just as much as I did. I took her hand. "Surely there'll be someone leaving. We'll sneak onboard. Get away, far from Uzzeer, far from Omeni, far from dumb sand dunes. Somewhere no one knows us, where we can do whatever we want. Yeah?"

A tiny smile touched her lips. "We'll go home?"

"Maybe! Silestia's a popular destination." In truth, Silestia was probably one of the last places we wanted to go. Omeni had returned a few times since adopting me, and each time, it had broken my heart to see my people worse and worse off. The tourists had destroyed our economy. They had all the money, and we had none. They did with Silestia as they liked.

But our last trip had been the one Omeni had picked Myrite up on, and she hadn't gotten to see the green of our world since. I knew how homesick she must have been. Sometimes, that same deep yearning still crept up in my soul, begging me to climb a tree or dig my toes into wet soil. I usually quenched it by staring at the sky, pretending those stars were the same as Silestia's. "Maybe," I said again.

Myri smiled. A cold wind swept over the sand, and I stood, pulling her up beside me. "Let's get you inside."

When Omeni had no guests, we each had a room in her house, but we preferred to sleep together. We buried under the comforter, me careful to keep my broken hand out to the side. I kissed my little sister on the cheek, and the resulting beauty of her grin helped keep my focus off the pain.

"Hey, Myri."

She glanced at me. Through the open curtain, the weak moonlight just barely shone off her pale face. I wished it was a little brighter so I could see her sweet brown eyes. "I'mma take care of you. No matter what. Alright?"

She stared at me, letting the words hover in the air. "I love you, Ita."

"I love you too." I ran my fingers over her eyes, and she shut them, giggling to herself. "Now, sleep."

Smiling, she snuggled into me, and I laid with her until her breathing evened out. In sleep, her face was slack, so innocent and peaceful. I was determined to keep her that way. I shifted to watch the dark, glittering sky through the window.

We would leave when it turned grey.

We stood at the end of the porch steps, feet set in the sand. My good hand twined in Myrite's, and I could feel her shaking. Still, we stared at the horizon, our backs to the house.

She turned to me. Her voice was soft and steady as she said, "We're gonna  die, aren't we?"

My gut told me I should demand why she would ask such a thing, insist that of course we weren't. My head told me I should lie and reassure her; otherwise, she might stay and get sold off, and we would both lose everything all over again. But my heart told me I had to give her the truth, had to warn her like my mother had never warned me. After today, we would both be in the sky. Whether our bodies would be above the dirt, though—that was uncertain. Unlikely, even. I squeezed her hand. "Probably. Why? You thinking about changing your mind?"

She shook her head, eyes down on the sand. In that quiet voice of hers, she said, "I just wanted to be sure. I did think, when you were talking about it last night—" She sucked in a breath, a bitter smile twisting her lips. I squeezed her hand again, knowing the words she couldn't say. Sometimes, you had to tell yourself fairytales to cover up reality. That didn't mean you believed them, or that both people couldn't see the truth beneath the magic. "Well. If I'm gonna die, I'd want it to be with you anyway. I'm not going to Uzzeer's house."

"No. No, you're not." Our simple determination settled my bones.

I kissed her on the cheek, and she leaned into me. We stood there for a moment, watching the clouds roll in the sky. Then, hearts full, we straightened, our clasped hands lending each other strength. A single step at a time, we walked across the sand dunes, toward that grey morning. We'd find our way to the stars. I knew we would.

One way or another.