Here, at the tippy top of the canopy, the leaves formed a blue, green, and yellow floor. These thick and fibrous leaves were laced together so tightly that Rafi and Gabe were standing on them. Taller Enmity-Amity Trees towered above, like pillars holding up the very blue sky.
Further beautifying this aerial-arboreal enclave were enormous, brilliantly hued flowers that clung to the tree trunks and burst out of the leaf-floor. These flowers came in every color—mustard yellow and cornflower blue, ochre and puce, coral and alabaster—and Milton knew exactly what they were: SunBurst Blossoms! The blossoms were in full bloom, and they smelled good enough to eat.
And they were definitely being eaten. Because perched up and down and all around were pointy-eared, round-eyed, bushy-tailed animals about the size of large house cats. About the size, Milton realized with a gasp, of Dear Lady DeeDee.
The animals were not paying the slightest bit of attention to the newcomers. They were too busy shoving SunBurst Blossom after SunBurst Blossom into their bucktoothed mouths. They had mostly greenish-bluish-yellowish fur, like the leaves of the Enmity-Amity Tree—except for their hairy tushies.
Each booty featured a SunBurst Blossom pattern.
There was no doubt about it—they had found the Beautimous Lemallabies!
There was no cawing, grinning, or yahooing, however.
Instead, everyone huddled near the tree hole, wary-eyed and motionless. Because the facts were these: They were surrounded by a large group of wild animals. Animals with shiny, sharp teeth. Animals with alarmingly long claws.
Milton wasn’t scared (Sea Hawk was never scared, not even while he was being eaten), but he didn’t know if it was wise to move too quickly (or maybe at all … ever).
Then he heard a high-pitched giggle. Next to him, Rafi gasped.
“Gabe,” he hissed. “Don’t make any sudden movements. I’m coming to get you.”
Gabe had skipped across the springy leaf-floor and plopped down with a group of lemallabies. Two of them skittered close and began combing through his curly hair. Occasionally, one would pluck something out and pop it into its mouth. A smaller lemallaby with a chartreuse booty climbed into Gabe’s lap. Another brought him a periwinkle blossom.
“These wacky monkeys like me!” Gabe cried.
Rafi let out a long, quavering sigh. “That’s because you never, ever shower,” he replied as the lemallabies continued grooming Gabe. “And they’re not monkeys. They’re Bottomy Wallabies.”
“They’re Beautimous Lemallabies,” Milton said. “And they are truly beautimous.”
Now that Gabe had paved the way, Milton decided it was time to make his move. Whenever Sea Hawk met a new creature, he approached it as if he were a member of its species. He slithered toward snakes. He hopped toward kangaroos. He curled up in a ball and somersaulted toward pangolins. In the opening story of Isle of Wild, he crawled toward Dear Lady DeeDee, meowing his heart out.
So Milton got down on his hands and knees. He scampered (to the best of his ability) over to Gabe and his circle of furry friends, where he tried to mimic the chittering vocalizations that the lime-green-bottomed lemallaby nearest him was making.
The lemallaby gave him a side-eye glance and edged away.
But as soon as he sat quietly back on his haunches and removed his hat, that side-eye-giving lemallaby skittered over and started picking through his hair.
“I think they like me!” Milton cried.