She frees her tunic.

Rather than endure a long night-time walk in just her shift, Vivia resolved to rescue her tunic from the damnable grasp of the shriveled stem poking out of the dirt. With more frustration than precision, she brought her free hand forward to where the collar was snagged just before her sweat-streaked forehead and worked her finger under the cloth.

Try as she might, the root would not yield to her efforts. Her tunic was caught fast under a hook-twist in the stem. Trusting her day of experience digging the things up, she went for the Trygal Root itself, instead.

With more than one curse uttered, Vivia managed to dig the stem out, but there wasn't much to grab hold of if she wanted to pull it up or break it off. With just one hand, she grabbed hold of her tunic's collar and stem alike, heaving with what strength she could muster from her precariously-prone position.

Straining with the effort, chest beginning to chafe from being pressed into the hard dirt so long, Vivia finally managed to pull the root free. The sudden upheaval, however, saw her slip forward toward the precipice of the bluff's shallowest slope, and before she could try grabbing at any of the only holds she had, she was sent tumbling into the valley below.

Vivia had the thought that it was a surprisingly easy fall, all things considered, having slipped over sheer walls of dirt and dust, dragging enough to slow herself and earn a scuff and a bruise. Entering the scrub beneath the bluff was a little worse, the branches scraping and tearing her tunic further than it already had been. Then came the mud.

Bottoming out, she rolled her way into a shallow mudflat, getting sufficiently covered in slippery, sticky earth before coming to a sliding halt in the dark valley. Pushing herself up to her knees, she groaned and panted, raising a hand to wipe the splatter from her face before realizing her hand was even muddier.

Vivia sat on her knees in the mud a long moment, not bothering with the futile task of cleaning up as it dripped down her shift and soaked her breeches. Eventually she heaved a tired sigh, looking off at the thinly-wooded surroundings in the dusky light. Her best ways out were to follow the mudflat where it stretched vaguely homeward, or try climbing back up on drier ground. Either way, her trip back was going to be a muddy one.