And the End. (But I am going to post it in entirety.)

The Other Island
By Amy Wilensky

One morning, as the sand glinted in the sunlight and the waves sent white froth up on the shore of a beautiful island, two friends were sitting on a pile of smooth grey rocks, gazing out at the horizon. The friends were Felix, a small but very determined bird, and his best friend Boo, the kindest, most good-natured giraffe you could ever hope to meet. The object of their gaze was another island: a speck in the distance that seemed about a million miles away.

The island where Felix and Boo lived was a lush, green place with beaches all around of soft pink sand, and trees heavy with ripe pomegranates all the year through. It was populated mostly by birds, as many kinds as there are shells in the sea, but also by friendly speckled crabs, lean gentle wolves with mournful howls, and giraffes, all of whom were somehow related to Boo. Boo thought their island was just about perfect. Felix had always thought so too--until he’d decided that this other island, this green speck out in the middle of nowhere, was possibly even a better one.

After a while, Boo grew tired of gazing out to sea, at the other island. She stood up and stretched her long neck, moving in front of Felix so he couldn’t see the other island anymore. Felix immediately hopped onto another rock with an unspoiled view. Boo rolled her eyes. “What should we do today, Felix?” she asked, to distract him. Felix always had the best ideas.

Felix didn’t answer. “I wonder if they have peacocks there?” he mused instead, in a dreamy voice Boo had never heard before. Peacocks were perhaps the only kind of bird they didn’t have on their own island. Felix had heard some of the older birds talking about them once, their iridescent turquoise feathers, the way their enormous tails caught the light and shone like the sea itself.

“I doubt it,” said Boo, her head drooping a little. Felix hopped from rock to rock, shaking sand from his wings.

“And coconuts!” he added, as if Boo had not spoken. “I hear coconut milk is indescribably delicious.” Boo imagined little Felix, fierce as he was, trying to peck a hole in a rock-hard coconut.

“Hey!” Felix said then, as Boo was picturing his tender little beak with a bandage wrapped around it from all the pecking. “I do have a plan! A terrific one!”

“What is it?” said Boo. When Felix had an especially good idea his tail feathers shook a little. They were shaking now.

“We’ll go to that island, the other island. We’ll find out for ourselves if they have peacocks and coconuts. I’m tired of crabs and wolves and pomegranates. I want to have a real adventure for a change.” Felix looked very pleased with himself. Boo tried to hide her disappointment. Felix’s tail feathers were shaking again.

“We need to build a boat!” This sounded more promising. Boo loved to build things. And if the boat-building project took long enough, maybe Felix would forget all about the other island. They could launch their boat in the salt-water pond in the middle of their own island, by the base of the mountain where the wolves prowled and napped in the shade. They could row out to the middle of the pond and nap on the boat in the sunshine, while crabs chattered at one another on the lily pads around them.

“Okay,” said Boo. “How do we start?”

Together, with Felix leading the way, they wove through the woods to a clearing that had been hit hard by a recent thunderstorm. As Felix directed her to the straightest, strongest branches, Boo picked them up in her mouth, making a pile in the middle of the grass. Felix flew to the swamp and plucked reeds with his beak. When he’d gathered enough, he flew back to Boo, who bound the branches together with the reeds.

When they had a sturdy raft large enough to hold them both comfortably, as well as two flat branches for oars, Felix tied a rope to one end and gave the other end of the rope to Boo, who chomped down on it with her large, flat teeth. She pulled the raft through the woods and down to the beach, to the very edge of the water. Felix landed on one corner, and Boo arranged herself in the middle, a little nervous suddenly about the actual rowing. Felix, of course, Mr. Big Ideas, was too small to row.

They pushed off, let the current carry out the boat until the water grew darker, deeper, and it was time for Boo to put the oars in the water. Felix navigated, which made him feel important, puffed up, like a real ship captain. As the other island got closer and closer, Felix’s tail feathers shook so hard Boo was worried they would all fall off. “Maybe we’ll want to live there,” Felix said, as Boo panted with the effort of pulling the oars through the water. “Maybe we won’t even want to go home!” Boo remained silent.

After what seemed like hours to Boo, a flash of lightning to Felix, the bottom of the boat bumped up on sand. Boo pulled the boat up on shore. Felix flew onto her shoulder. For a moment, they just stood there, looking around. Boo had to admit that the other island was glorious. The sand was white instead of pink but as soft as baby powder, and the trees bore small, fuzzy, oval-shaped brown fruits instead of large glossy pomegranates. Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, and Boo jumped, throwing Felix into the air.

“And who are you?” said the slow, gravely voice, from down on the sand. It was a turtle, not much bigger than Felix, with a mottled dark green shell and an inquisitive face. “Or should I say, what are you?”

“Um, I’m a bird,” said Felix, looking sideways at Boo to see what she made of this. “Like a peacock?” he said.

“I don’t know what that is,” the turtle said, even more slowly this time, turning his tiny head to look at Boo. “And what’s she?”

“I’m a giraffe,” Boo said, in a high, tinkly, nervous voice. The turtle looked back at Felix.

“Hmph,” he grumbled. “I don’t know what use we have for birds and giraffes around here, but we don’t get many visitors. Actually, I’m almost four hundred years old, and you’re the first in my lifetime. You might as well come meet the rest of the island.”

Felix looked at Boo, who raised her eyebrows (yes, some giraffes do have eyebrows). “And what about you?” Felix asked. He didn’t like being bossed around. “What are you? You’re certainly not a wolf or a crab.”

“Wolf or a crab? Of course not,” scoffed the turtle. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am a proud member of the ancient race of turtles. We are the only creatures who live here. Except for the camels, of course. But they don’t really count."

“Wolf or a crab? Of course not,” scoffed the turtle. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am a proud member of the ancient race of turtles. We are the only creatures who live here. Except for the camels, of course. But they don’t really count.’ Felix and Boo exchanged looks of confusion. The turtle motioned for them to follow, and so they did, along the beach for a while, and then into a cool, piney forest, and then through a meadow in which wildflowers bloomed in bursts of orange and red like miniature planets and suns.

Finally, the turtle stopped and held out his arm as though to say, “Well? What do you make of this?” Felix and Boo had no words. They were at the top of a hill that sloped so gently they had not realized they were climbing it. But now they could survey the entire island. It looked like a patchwork quilt with colorful squares of flowering trees in full bloom, the greenest pastures, buttery yellow sandy stretches rippled with blue bubbling brooks. Felix let out a breath. Boo sat beside him. It was spectacular.

After a few minutes, they realized that they were surrounded. Turtles had gathered in clusters, from enormous sea versions to the tiniest painters. Large tan creatures with pronounced humps on their backs, the size of horses with faces like llamas, stared openly at them. Felix whispered to Boo, “The camels.”

One of the sea turtles lumbered up to where Felix and Boo were standing with the turtle who’d found them on the beach. “Welcome,” he said. “I suppose you know you’ve stumbled on the most special island in the wide and wonderful universe?” Felix gave Boo's foot a sharp peck before she could protest.

“Yes,” said Felix. “And if you don’t mind, we’d like to have a look around.” It was arranged for a couple of camels to take them touring for a few hours, show them the sights. But first: a feast. Platters of woven reeds were brought out, on which sat piles of the brown fuzzy fruits they’d noticed in the trees, cut open to reveal green insides flecked with tiny black seeds.

Felix and Boo ate the kiwi fruit, which tasted a little like lime, a little like banana but was more delicious than either. They sipped what turned out to be coconut milk from actual coconuts, and even Boo had to admit it was like drinking an afternoon breeze. A camel stood behind each of them as they feasted, and on the back of each camel sat a turtle, with an enormous fan made of kiwi tree leaves, for the purpose of ensuring the comfort of the newcomers. Although the sun was brilliant, Felix and Boo were cool as clams.

All that afternoon, they explored the island. In spite of what their turtle host, whose name was Horace, had said about the camels, they were lovely creatures with shy smiles and soothing voices. They took Felix and Boo to a spring where the water bubbled up in all the colors of a sunrise, a cave with walls like crystals, and a spot in the middle of the densest woods where stars shone in the sky in spite of the daylight.

When they were thirsty, turtles appeared with coconut milk. When they were hungry, turtles appeared with slices of kiwi on ice. When they needed a rest, they were led to hammocks, where more turtles fanned them, and unseen birds sang songs that were both strange and familiar, soothing them almost to sleep.

When dusk fell, and the sun hovered low above the horizon, Felix and Boo found themselves back at the spot on the beach where they'd landed that morning. Their boat sat back by the dunes. It appeared to have been polished and repaired, as though it had never been used. Horace was there, waiting. "So?" he said. "Was I exaggerating?" Boo looked at Felix. Felix looked out at the ocean where their island, their boring old beautiful old island, could be seen as a speck of green in the distance. Suddenly Felix found himself, for the first time all day, craving a pomegranate.

"No," said Felix, honestly. The other island was a magical place, and he was sure that for the turtles and camels and birds (but no peacocks, as far as he could tell) who lived there, it was just about perfect. "You were right. You're very lucky." Horace looked satisfied, as satisfied as a turtle can look.

"We were talking," he said, "about the two of you, while you were out with the camels. We've decided that you may remain. We have already starting preparing your castle." Boo took a step forward, but it was Felix who spoke.

"That's so lovely of you," he said, "but actually, we'll be needing our boat. If we leave now, we'll make it home before the moon concert." Boo breathed an enormous sigh of relief. Not a moment too soon.

A little while later, as she pulled the oars easily through the calm, green sea, gazing ahead all the while at their island, she thought about waking up Felix. He was sleeping peacefully beside her with one wing around the coconut he'd sweet-talked out of Horace, whistling a bit through his beak.

Instead, she looked up at the moon, a crescent in the navy expanse. They were close enough now that the evening concert could be heard, ever so faintly, across the water. She was glad they had gone to the other island, after all. And somehow she knew that Felix would let them launch their boat the next day in the pond in the middle of theirs. Sometimes you need to leave to come back home.

The End