“I think we all are,” Nash points out.
“You guys won’t stop swaying, so now who’s high?”
Theo shakes his head and chuckles.
Malachi leans his forehead against the trunk. “So tell me, what’s it like standing in one place all the time?”
Total silence.
Malachi nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. People don’t appreciate you enough.”
Theo tilts his head. “Should I worry I heard the tree talking back?”
Malachi glances over his shoulder. “Of course not.”
Gwyneth leans over to me. “Did you hear the tree?”
“I did not. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
“Is the answer correct?” Hart asks.
Absolem shakes his head and releases another plume. That can’t be healthy for everyone else’s brains. I’m clearly unaffected by this magical quest into Wonderland.
Oh, look. The stars are coming to us. I move my hand in front of my face. “Pretty.” If I had a ladder, I could pluck them from the sky. Wait… “What about a ladder?”
“A ladder has no roots,” Absolem tells me.
I roll my eyes. “Not that we can see, but metaphorically, the roots are ambition. You know, climbing the social ladder.”
Theo folds his arms and squints. “Not a ladder?” he checks.
Absolem rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry, my friend,” Malachi utters low as he strokes the tree. Now I’m jealous of the tree. “I won’t let them chop you down and make you into a ladder.”
Charming steps forward and straightens his fancy wrinkled coat. “What if the answer is a mountain?”
Absolem inhales sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Hmmm…” I swear, if Prince Poopfloof solves the riddle, the world is ending. Since the stars are falling out of the sky and my knight is snuggling with a tree, the likeliness is high.
Charming throws his hands in the air. “Mountains, forged in fire and time, whispering old secrets to the sky, rooted not in soil but in the bones of the world itself…” Everyone turns to Charming with gaping mouths. He frowns, like he’s confused himself.
Absolem looks intrigued, but doesn’t speak.
I wrinkle my nose. “Is it a beanstalk?” Absolem sighs. Guess that’s a no.
Malachi sighs dramatically. “You ever think about how we’re all just… sticks?”
“We’re not sticks,” Theo informs him.
Malachi wraps his arms around the tree. “But one diurnal, we could be! I mean, trees are big sticks that never left home.”
Gwyneth screws her face up. “I am not emotionally prepared for this conversation.”
Malachi leans his cheek against the bark. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t leave either.”
Theo sneezes, sending a burst of flame straight at Absolem’s mushroom. The toadstool whooshes into a charred, smoldering mess.
Absolem rolls onto the ground, wheezing. “My house! Are you serious?!”
