Think, she told herself. The mule. The mule could pull Elspeth free.
“Stay here,” she said, hurrying back to the gig.
“Oh, aye, I was just about to run off,” Elspeth snarled.
Charlotte’s fingers were so stiff they hurt, but she fumbled with the gig’s traces until they’d been loosed. She led the mule by the bridle back to Elspeth. It tossed its head, but Charlotte tugged it forward.
“Comeon.”
Elspeth was waist-deep now, panting. The fingers had vanished, but mud crept up her stomach and chest like it was alive. It turned aside when it reached the silver acorn on its chain, creeping around Elspeth’s ribs like bands instead.
Charlotte flung the traces toward her. “Catch hold of these.”
Elspeth lunged, grabbed them. She nodded, pale and shaking.
“Hurry. They’re still grabbing at me.”
Charlotte slapped the mule’s rump. The mule threw itself forward.
The traces slipped from Elspeth’s grasp. Gasping, she looped them around her hands.
“It’s all right,” Charlotte said. This was just like a medical emergency, she told herself, even though it was nothing like a medical emergency at all.
A hand crawled from the mud and grasped the hem of her skirt. She yelped, beating the hand off with her cane.
“Leave go,” Elspeth said through gritted teeth. “No point both of us getting pulled under.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Charlotte snapped. “If you let go of those lines, I’ll kill you myself.”
Elspeth scowled but redoubled her grip, grunting and trying to twist free. Charlotte grabbed the mule’s bridle. She kept whacking her shoes with her cane, felt that hand grabbing her again, though she was now out of reach.
Slowly, they pulled Elspeth free. Her waist appeared. Her hips. Her thighs. Her knees. Fingers came with her, grasping at her ankles. She kicked them. A nasty crack, and the fingers retreated.
With a horrible sucking sound, the mud released her. She went flying, crashing into the undergrowth.
The mule stamped and pranced, braying in alarm. Charlotte looped the driving lines around a nearby branch and stumbled in Elspeth’s direction.
“Elspeth!”
She was on her back, breathing hard. Mud was crusted into her clothes, daubed onto her arms, splotched on her cheek andforehead. Charlotte wanted to kneel beside her and clean her off, but her knees protested. Instead, she leaned over Elspeth, hands gripping her cane so tight it hurt.
“Are you all right?”
Elspeth squinted at her. “Think I might’ve dislocated my shoulder.”
Her voice shook. She sat up, arms around her legs, looking small.
“Can you,” she started, and stopped. Charlotte reached for her, but Elspeth shook her head. “Don’t say anything. Don’t—You told me it was the forest, I should’ve known it was the forest, so don’t say ‘I told you so.’”
I wasn’t going tosounded insincere even if true, so Charlotte said nothing. Elspeth sounded near tears.
Charlotte helped her up. They leaned against each other, exhausted and in pain. Charlotte unlooped the driving lines from their branch. In silence, the women returned to the gig, where Elspeth reattached the traces.
“Let me take a look at you,” Charlotte said.
Elspeth shook her head. “Let’s move, first. Feels like... like those hands are gonna come crawling out of the mud after me.”
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. The mud looked like nothing more than an innocent puddle in the midst of the undergrowth. She shuddered.
