“More horizontal at first.”
His eyes sharpened.
“And your body?”
She swallowed.
Here was the part she hated saying.
“My weight helps.”
He stared at her.
She continued before embarrassment could stop the explanation.
“If you pull my upper body while I shift backward and spread my legs, I can create resistance against the suction instead of fighting it vertically.”
The mountain man looked at the fallen tree.
Then her.
Then the rope.
“Counterbalance.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
The word sounded different coming from him.
Not accusation.
Mechanics.
He moved.
Fast.
Careful.
The limp became more obvious as he crossed the uneven ground.
He looped the rope around the fallen redwood.
Used a natural crook as a guide.
Returned carrying both ends.
The woman studied his setup.
“Higher.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“Your redirect point.”
He looked.
She explained.
“If the rope sits too low, it’ll dig into the mud edge.”
He moved it.
Another foot.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He stared.
She said:
“But it’s better.”
The mountain man almost smiled.
Then his expression returned to concentration.
He tied a wide loop.
This time she accepted it.
Under arms.
Across upper chest.
Not waist.
He took the working end.
“On three.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Are you incapable of agreeing to anything?”
“Don’t pull yet.”
Mud had reached the lower part of her ribs.
She forced herself to reposition slowly.
One arm behind.
Then the other.
Flatten her torso.
Increase surface area.
Reduce downward pressure.
She moved carefully until the mud stopped rising.
“Now.”
The mountain man braced.
“One.”
She drew her legs slightly inward.
“Two.”
She leaned backward against the rope.
“Three.”
He pulled.
Pain crushed across her chest.
Nothing happened.
Then the mud made a deep sucking sound.
Her body moved perhaps half an inch.
“Again!”
He pulled harder.
She screamed.
Not from injury.
From fear.
The suction released around her right thigh.
Cold water rushed into the gap.
“Stop!”
He froze.
She repositioned.
“Now!”
The third pull moved her several inches.
The mountain man’s boots slid.
He recovered.
The fallen redwood held.
The rope angle worked.
She forced herself to think instead of feel.
Force.
Friction.
Surface area.
Vector.
Her weight, for once, was not the problem.
It was part of the solution.
“Again!”
He pulled.
She pushed backward.
The mud released her left leg.
She nearly came free.
Then the ground beneath the mountain man collapsed.