Lorina placed her hand on the ground, in this case the tree branch they sat atop. Her palm rested there with the familiar intimacy of a daughter touching a father's shoulder. The wood answered at once, a low thrum that brushed the skin like distant thunder felt rather than heard.
Suddenly, the tree branch itself grew and pulled them all the way to the top of the tree, cradling them without a single vibration or tremor, safely carrying them to a place far higher on the tree. The motion loosened the view beneath them into a tapestry of small, moving shapes, then drew it close again as they rose through veils of leaves. The cradle that formed around them felt as inevitable as a yawn, a curve grown for this purpose and this pair. The air cooled a step at a time. The light thinned and clarified. The world beyond the spatial lock became a painted thing at the edges of sight.
