With surgical precision and the soft-touched, slow moving delicacy of someone trying to reach for their drink whilst their dog slept on their lap, Figg untangled the roots from around the chest and churned the dirt beneath the tree, to move the chest through it.
Any harm to the tree could damage the fruit growing upon it, adding decades to its growth cycle as it was forced to recover or even ruin it completely. Those were risks he was definitely going to take.
It was not easy either. It wasn't that it was resisting him in any active way, just that a single root - that was no bigger than his arm - was so titanically heavy from the sheer volume of Divine Energy flowing through them, that it meant that moving those tree roots was like trying to push an entire house down the road for a better view. All he could do was move it slowly but surely, one brick at a time.
