For most people, being wrapped in the arms of a giant tree that takes the shape of a man might be suffocating, maybe even terrifying. But Tuls’ hold on him is a gentle one, and Bruce is far from being normal.

Instead of being scared, he feels comforted, in a strange way. Closing his eyes and letting himself be enveloped in this embodiment of nature. Let’s it take him far away from the city, from it’s bright lights and loud noises and overwhelming crowds. The stress of daily life, and the work that’s never done.

“It’s okay.” That phrase belonged to a time long past, when the buildings were built so close together you could walk- or sometimes jump- easily across the rooftops like it was it’s own kind of road. To wooded areas high up in the mountains where only the most desperate for solitude would dare to live. 

It’s whispered words to comfort failing bodies on cheap, dirty, cots. Because the sick are more plentiful than money, and neither the doctor or the woman that volunteered as his nurse could afford better.

‘It’s okay’ belonged to a different life, because that’s what he had to keep telling himself to keep going the way he had.

Still, if Tuls, of all people, was here and telling him things were okay in this life as well. That had to mean something. Something he had most likely forgotten in the chaos of everything else going on with and around him.

“– Yeah, I guess it is.”