He was tiring himself out quickly and breathed in raggedly. With a final push, he touched the soft ground. "Grass," he breathed, thankful for the reprieve. Letting go, he collapsed and gulped precious oxygen. He had no idea what was happening, and it was frightening him. Everywhere was a blurry mess of various shades of greens, along with a few browns. Tom curled into himself in a fetal position and waited. He did not know what for. A broken voice soothed him and he felt a feather like touch smooth his hair. He hummed contentedly. He opened his eyes and winced when the noise echoed back at a higher volume. The wispy hand that carded through his hair tightened minutely and resumed brushing the locks. The voice continued to whisper to him, soothing his fears. Tom forgot the world and leaned into the cool touches.