"It's no good," I call out, looking at the spinning tires of my car. The Orange Bubble's undercarriage is flush against the sand and no amount of pushing is going to get her free.
Thankfully all the dents and dings the dang Grindylows had put in her yesterday have healed and my car looks almost new again. I'm still finding it hard to believe that only a short while ago, it had been a burned up husk. The connection between the Orange Bubble and Angela still doesn't make complete sense to me, but at least I have them both here now.
The succubus, in her Amazon form to help push, brushes off her hands, shaking her head. "It's not far to Varun's demesne, but it'll take a while to swim that far, and we'll be tired by the time we arrive. Not good conditions for rescuing someone."
