It was hot, well into the nineties, and the air felt thick on my skin, so I was happy for the breeze as the boat weaved through the bald cypress trees. Fulaträsk was an oddly beautiful city—or at least the parts that I could see were. Most of the homes were built high in trees, embellished with scrap metal and found objects, and camouflaged with moss, vines, and tree branches. I couldn’t even really see them until we were right under them, and I saw the ladders or occasional spiral staircases wrapping around massive tree trunks.

Wooden bridges connected some of the tree houses, creating a neighborhood in the sky. The Omte didn’t have the kind of cloaking abilities the other tribes did, so they relied more on traditional means of hiding from the humans. Their city was in the middle of a swamp, with no roads. A few homes were on marshy islands or stilts, like Pan’s friend Rikky’s place.

As the name implied, the Yggammi Tree Inn was a tree house atop a trio of thick Southern live oaks that had grown close together, their branches spreading out and intertwining with each other like tentacles. Atop the multitude of hefty branches was the large octagonal building made of sun-faded wood. A staircase wound around the narrowest trunk, meeting with the dock at the base, where another airboat and two canoes were tied up.

After Knut parked the boat, he offered to carry our bags, but only Elof took him up on it, since Bryn and Pan had packed so lightly. Knut lunged up ahead, and we followed him more slowly, pacing ourselves as we climbed the dozens of stairs.

The hotel was rather nice, nicer than the human motels I’d stayed in before, and closer to the luxury tree house I’d seen on a glitzy TV show, but in a rustic, understated Omte sort of way. Polished wood floors, distressed wood on the walls. The check-in counter was a solid chunk of raw-edged wood, and the wall behind it was a big mirror with gilded edges. An alligator head was mounted on another wall, wearing a pair of bronze sunglasses, but the centerpiece of the room was a vintage chandelier made with brass and mirror crystals.

Pan let out a low whistle as he admired the space—the leather bench, the vulture statue made from upcycled metal, a potted avocado plant growing in the corner. “This place seems pretty hip.”

“The only places I could find for rent were this place and the palace,” Bryn said. “And not only do I have bad memories of staying at the palace, but it was outlandishly pricy.”