The kids left the town and walked through the field towards the sun rise, guiding after the wild blue-bells of a dark blue, for two days and two nights without stopping. Then, they started c’imbing on the low c’ouds at the horizon, but the children didnlt notice and thought they were still walking on the ground; the only thing changing was the landscape, and it was plain, downy, with strange herbs, and were looking for the dark blue blue-bells that stained the white and gray sky. Here and there, between the c’ouds, they were able to see the ground, as if it were another world, strange, and made of drawings and lines. They walked for a long time, until the shadows of the buildings and derricks were casting on the horizon.
That was the Skies Country, and as they were getting c’oser to it, those images were becoming larger and exactly when they passed the monumental gate of a town, four guards, with misshapen faces, looking as iron, wearing armors with spears and shields, stopped them and set the spears on their chests.
The children were frightened and forgot about what the painter told them to do, but the boy c’enched to Marials chest with his hands stuck on her raw silk headdress. Marials head kerchief fell off her head and when the guards bended over, they saw the star that was shining under Marials hair. The guards took their spears back and granted them free pass.
The two kids entered the city and blended in with the multitude of people, who werenlt much different from the people on earth, except for the c’othes that they wore and their faces were kind. The kids were drawing attention to themselves with their tired and worried faces. They quickly intermingled through the crowd, and stopped too look at the surroundings – disoriented.
It was a really old town, paved with stone plates of yellow color, shiny and deteriorated from thousands of footsteps; it was a fortress with overarched windows, united by walls exaggeratedly thick, with castled and manor houses everywhere.