Beatrix woke early - because of an enormous crick in her neck and a very stiff back - to find mist covering the ground, hanging from branches like a noose. The mud was even squelchier than before, and the hem of her dress was completely ruined, being inches deep in the foul black bog. How these people could live here all the time, she would never know.
‘Morning!’ said a complete stranger cheerfully, and Beatrix was so shocked at her familiar tone that she forgot to reproof her. Back home, that would’ve been a horrendous insult!
But she wasn’t back home. She was here, in this terrible nightmare of a place, with awful people who didn’t even know how to behave properly. She didn’t know how to behave here. She didn’t know what was expected. She didn’t know anything.
Everything was so much more complicated here. At least at home she’d had Quigley.
She blinked. Quigley was in prison. Owain was banished. She and Carla had been forced to escape to this horrible bog - any by who?