This area looked like someone had scrubbed part of the colors off a painting of her home. It was dirty and seemed more brittle.
And a lot more rocky. Riona rolled over on her side so that the cart could stop making contact with the lump on her head. From that angle, she spied a box under a pile of rope. It looked old and had dings and scratches all over it. It was so well worn that one of the hinges had been bent up and away from the wood, which gave her an idea.
After a couple of barrel rolls, she was close enough to touch the box. Riona twisted and squirmed and finally was lined up with her back to the box in the right way so that she could feel the flared metal with her fingers. Then she went to work. The cart bounced up and down, doing little to help her progress. Every time she lost connection with the metal, she had to fumble to find it again. It was a slow and painstaking process.
Finally, though, she felt some give and was able to move her hands better. This spurred her on and she sawed furiously at the last strands until she heard the final pop. Freedom!
Riona shook the rest of the rope from her wrists and sighed with relief. She wrapped her arms around herself to ease the ache from her shoulders having been pinned so long.
All of a sudden the cart stopped and Riona’s heart began to pound more loudly. She grasped at the knot around her ankles, trying to pry part of it loose, but it was stubbornly tight. The voices of the cart driver and companion became louder and were moving along the side.