Morning came as the earth-shaking, teeth-gritting experience of Amardamu stomping around and exuberantly talking at the still-groggy Jun. Once her initial irritation faded, Sachiko leaned back to grab her spear; slave to curiosity, she couldn't resist peering towards the too-bright gap between the pots and the world beyond.

What she saw was uniquely harrowing. From her painfully low-angle view of the giants standing at their full height, she watched as rover-sized feet crashed unpredictably from the heavens, each foot bearing the weight of countless tonnes only to effortlessly rise once more. How? How could she pretend they were anything other than forces of nature?

Sachiko closed her eyes and curled back into her corner, trying to block out the horrible vision of being out there, wingless and unnoticed.

The door slammed, and blessed stillness was returned. It was a few minutes before Sachiko could work up the courage to peer through the gap once more, and once she did, it was a few more yet before she flew up to the window. Never, she thought. Never again would she hide anywhere near the ground when giants were about.

Outside, she let the warmth of the sun, the tickle of the wind and the sweetness of honey rejuvenate her. She still had reading to learn from Eulli. While taxing, she could at least maintain a hover and be doing something productive with the time.

Having found the familiar Big House, Sachiko landed and cautiously peered through the hole in the window. To her surprise, Jun, Amardamu, and another man were inside, discussing something. Sachiko recognised him as the farmer who'd been wearing the most -and most colourful- clothes when they were passing through the fields. It made sense in hindsight that he'd be the richest.

"-your forest spirit," he finished saying. Disapproval was thick in his voice, and she could see that he was eyeing Jun as he spoke.

Whatever the context, Amardamu was quick to give his disgruntled reply: "Does he look like a forest spirit t'ya?"

Unflapped, the man responded calmly - perhaps even coldly: "The other Eulli didn't, and we gave him to the river." Sachiko felt a knot in her gut. Why? She didn't know. But the look of silent horror on Jun's face told her she wasn't alone.

"Jun ain't babbling nonsense; 'boy's jus' passin' through," Amardamu said, neither noticing nor caring about Jun's epiphany.

The stranger was silent a moment, staring at Amardamu as if to intimidate some hidden truth from him. "Fine. You came here to trade?"

Amardamu's shoulders relaxed, and the two eventually got to talking about some green brick of waxy material. The stranger was waving his hand around it, obviously intent on playing up its importance. Amardamu, it seemed, was not amused.

"Must we play this game, brother?" he said, resigned yet forceful.

For the first time, his "brother"'s countenance lifted. "The gods smile at the exchange of coin," he said. "Even more so when the exchange is well fought."

Perhaps it was common knowledge, for Amardamu sighed and gave no rebuttal.

"Um, actually," Jun piped up. "I have some other stuff I could sell first if you're interested."

The brother motioned for him to go on, and Jun opened up his bag displaying its contents. Without asking for permission, the brother reached in and grabbed the book that had the cartoon characters on its cover. Without missing a beat, he parted the pages and flicked through them.

"This is fine paper you have, and finer art still," he said, with no small approval.

Amardamu grunted, unsurprised, and crossed his arms. Had Jun showed him it already? "Ya speak of the gods, but any right man would sever yer 'ands if ya accepted it. This belongs to th' king, if Jun's ta part wi' it," he said.

The brother shut the book gently and passed it to Jun. "You're right, of course," he said.

In a single, rolling motion, the steady beat of the sun's rays disappeared. Jerking back, Sachiko found everything around her had been cast in shade, and with freezing blood she looked bac-

"What'cha doing?" Eulli's too-cheerful voice bellowed from right behind her. If it had not been for the breathy, lisping quality that betrayed it as a whisper, she would have been sure he'd shouted. Instead, she was treated to the unpleasant sensation of being breathed on. Not that she had the time to appreciate it;

Sachiko was certain -absolutely certain- she hadn't heard Eulli approaching. The surprise of something so large sneaking up on her bordered on terror, and her heart was certainly worse off for it. How the hell did he pull that off? she mentally screamed, wincing at the lingering pain of the shock. Sachiko put her hand on her chest, breathed and took a moment to collect herself.

Eulli had backed off a couple of meters, no longer quite as imposing. He was grimacing sympathetically when he more quietly whispered: "sorry."

"I-it's fine," she said, mindful of her own voice. Glancing back at the hole, she sided along the ledge before taking wing and putting a more reasonable distance between her and the child.

Mollified, Eulli looked towards the window. "He pretends he's a farmer but he never stops counting coins," he said, with some melancholy.

Sachiko didn't have the wits to respond with anything more than a slow nod and a diversion. "How about we go and find someplace to sit?" she asked.

Eulli nodded, and Sachiko spent the rest of the day learning under his tutelage in the shade of a tree. Paper and graphite sliver in hand, she hovered over his shoulder as he drew characters into the soft dirt beside the canal. When she needed clarification, she would land and point her foot at the part of the rug-sized symbol that confused her. After she'd asked for a few potentially important ones such as "Danger", "shelter", and "food", he took to asking her to practice them despite her protests. So, Sachiko learned the art of steadily hovering while dragging your heel through mud - more like the esoteric art of using your body as a stylus because you're about the size of one anyway, she thought to herself.

When evening came, so did an unwelcome tension; Jun had told her they were leaving tomorrow, and she'd have to break it to the child. Finished with yet another symbol, Sachiko touched down and looked up towards the kind-hearted boy. Heart clenching, she explained -persevering despite his dimming enthusiasm- that she would be leaving with Jun. When she'd said her piece, he remained silent. No hand reached out to grab her, and no tears wet his face. Instead he told her: "A lot of people visit father. I'm used to people leaving," each word familiar as if it were a mantra.

The mood was dour after that. Try as she might, Sachiko couldn't think of anything to reassure him and the symbols quickly stopped being drawn. What could she tell him? She couldn't promise to return, or to take him with them. She knew too little of this world to give anything but the most banal advice. All she could do was say, "I'm glad that I got to meet you," and "I'm sorry I have to go."

They parted ways after that.

After saying goodbye to Eulli, Sachiko didn't feel much like watching Jun and Amardamu share their evening meal. Instead, she sat on the edge of the fountain, admiring how the setting sun painted the angular houses in shades of orange and the fields beyond in purples and blues. Warm light spilled out from under the doors and between the wooden panels to share stories told in flickering shadows. Faintly, she could hear the sounds of laughter, of song and companionship.

It was completely alien. It was completely alien, but it felt like something she'd lost even though she'd never had it. Jun, Amardamu, Eulli and the Merchant Brother - all of them were somehow more human than anyone back home had ever been. Not even her mother had shown her the pride and enthusiasm Amardamu did for someone he'd only known a couple of days.

Sachiko was starting to see why people in his stories didn't want to go home. She looked up to the moon, devoid of the intricate orange circuits that marked the roads and colonies of Phobos and wondered: How could she ever earn their warmth, rather than merely receive it? If it weren't for her vibroknife, would Jun have smiled at her the same way yesterday? What had she even done these past few days that he couldn't have if need be?

Nothing. She was nothing.

When the last hints of orange faded from the world, and the silver-purple of night ruled supreme, Sachiko got up from her perch and flew to Amardamu's hovel. Jun was waiting inside, fingering the bottlecap she had left on the window sill.

He must have heard her buzzing, as he greeted her the moment she'd finished crawling through. Jun wrapped the bottlecap in his fist and looked concerned when he asked, "Is everything O.K.?"

Sachiko smiled despite herself. "Yeah, just sad to be going."

Jun stopped half-way through his nod of understanding, eyebrow raised. "Why?" he asked, without judgement or disbelief.

Not wanting to feel small, Sachiko decided to stay on the window sill, leaning against the wood and hugging herself. "So, I got caught, right? This kid, Eulli-"

"Eulli? He's Nemurdamu's son," he said frowning, and seeing Sachiko's confusion, continued: "the merchant who lives in the big house with the second storey."

"Yeah. I was curious so I snuck in. He noticed me and asked me to stay. One thing lead to another and I was learning to read and write from him," she said. In a quieter tone, she added: "I had to say goodbye today."

The dark look on Jun's face relaxed into one of sympathy. "It's not easy, is it?"

Sachiko forced a laugh. "No, it isn't."

Jun leaned back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "My parents moved to America when I was li- young. Asian-American, I didn't exactly fit in. Come highschool, and I'm offered a chance to study abroad - anywhere. So I went to Japan. I thought I'd fit in, but everything was the same - except, this time, I didn't have any friends."

"You know I don't know what half of that means, right?" she said, choosing to be playful as she puzzled out the meanings in her head. Asia and America were continents, but perhaps they had suitably giant countries to claim it? If so, they could only have a handful of them.

"Sorry. I guess my point is that I know how you feel?" he said, sheepishly rubbing his neck as if he hadn't really thought this far.

Sachiko could barely contain her amusement at the turn of events. "Pfft, idiot," she said, humour rich in her voice. "I thought you were going to say something wise or-"

"I mean," Jun interrupted, although mostly by virtue of the loudness of his voice even when hushed. "There's that saying 'you never know what you have until it's gone'."

What? "What does that have to do with anything?" she said, completely at loss for where the idiot colossus was going with this. Certainly he understood she was sad because she knew what she was losing? Idiot.

The banter continued long into the night, and by the end of it, Sachiko felt as physically exhausted as she was emotionally. Exhaustion was good though - it meant things could get better.

Jun, slightly more collected than before, brought things to a close. "I think it'd be best if you slept in my bag," he said, and needn't say more.

"Yeah," Sachiko breathed, resigned. Maybe tomorrow she could feel depressed about being stuffed in a bag again, but today was sad enough. She hovered over to the white trimmed, blue bag and watched as Jun unzipped it for her, going as far as to even prop it open slightly.

She set down behind the zipper where the fabric could support her and began to slide her way in. Looking up at the kindred spirit she wished him "goodnight" before falling the rest of the way inside.

"Goodnight," he echoed, and the world shook as the light dimmed in the ruckus of metal teeth being joined.

Curled up between a book and a corner of the bag, Sachiko dreamed of a home that never was.