They sat together in the tall grass, higher now than their waists, and worked together to draw a map. They tried to count their paces, give a sense of how long their strides were, and when they returned home would dry out some of the berries and grass to tape to the map. They decided that one day when they were credited for the discovery, they should be credited as the Owens Sisters. They could see the biography covers and test questions and Black History Month PBS program. They could hear themselves talking about the joy of being the first in a way that didn’t point to oppression or being problematic, but to finding and doing something truly new. Here, finally, they felt like they understood what people thought being a twin was like, so in sync were their emotions and imaginings.

Ayanna noticed a flicker of green firefly light at what she estimated was about a half mile away. More and more of the fireflies appeared. They were forming a shape, low at first to the ground, that Ayanna thought was a bench, but it grew higher and higher, until the lights were clearly forming a door.

*  *  *

Margot’s camera couldn’t capture sound, but if it could have, each pop would have sounded like a firework arcing its way up toward roofs and stars. The footage through the door was hard to discern, what looked like light leaks in the camera taking up most of it, so a viewer saw only a back, a hood, and long white lines, but it was clear the siblings had to let go of one another to fully get through. Then, a tree branch jostled by the wind, Margot’s brother looking up into the air, and then his head was gone and there was a soft zoom-in on what a viewer could easily mistake for a batch of red cirrus clouds that spread down and down until the entire body was gone, and all the bits of it were in the air for a gorgeous second, mixed with falling snow, each flake looking almost an inch in length. And the camera turned, and for anyone watching the footage, it felt like the camera was destroying every person it turned toward. Man after man after man popped like overfilled water balloons colliding with concrete.

There was something miraculous, some felt, in Margot’s ability to keep filming. But, she would’ve said, the only thing in her entire life that had made her feel calm was video making. There was maybe a thought, too, if they were not going to be able to explore and voyage, at least they could achieve some form of glory by having a record. Few want to die, especially people like this, without leaving some kind of mark on the world.