The rough folds of bark illustrated the trunk as if it were a river of wood, dark crevices revealed in the corrugated surface. She touched the scabrous skin of the tree, and the ancient cypress responded, first by releasing aromatic resin filling the air about her, then the coarse surface rippled, seeming to tear itself, ripping the pulpy strands of wood, to create an opening, a dark redwood crevice into which she stepped; the tree heart, acknowledging her presence, folded back over itself sealing her safely inside leaving only a sillage to mark her passage.