Something grasped my good leg with a barbarian grip. I shivered as a slippery goo coated my limb. It felt like warm snot and sap mixed together. Tilting my head, I met the awful rictus of the grindylow as it silently began dragging me into the reeds. A cry for help clogged my throat. I couldn’t speak, too weak to call out to my blind friends. I was out of options and out of time.