He let it settle.
Then dragged.
Nothing.
Mud.
Resistance.
Release.
Then the rope stopped.
Eli pulled again.
Solid.
He looked toward the bank.
“I’ve got something.”
Marcus uncrossed his arms.
“Root?”
“Maybe.”
Eli changed the angle.
The hook shifted.
Then locked.
He pulled carefully.
The rope tightened.
Too tight for mud.
Dale set down the coffee.
“Don’t wrap that around your wrist.”
Warren corrected him.
“Brace across the forearm. Leave room to release.”
Eli adjusted.
He backed one step.
Something moved below.