Cry for help!

As much as she hates being a damsel in distress, Skye hates drowning even more, in mud especially. Seeing no other options, she cries for help at the top of her lungs.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELGGGHHH"

The mud rushes into her mouth but she continues to make **** gargling sounds. Before the quicksand fills her ears, she can hear the soft sound of bare feet on the jungle floor. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and she sticks her short noodle arms up straight as high as they can reach.

Right before she loses consciousness, Skye feels a calloused hand grasping hers and lifting her up.

Her consciousness comes and goes, but she can barely make out a muscular pair of legs below her and a beefy bicep wrapped around her.

Am I being carried with one arm....? She thinks as she coughs up some more mud and passes out again.