Arthur grinned hugely and saluted Much with his knife. "Hang in there, lads, have you outta there in two fuckin' shakes." It was a simple enough release; the anchoring rope was secured to a sturdy lower branch of a nearby pine, and Arthur headed straight for it – then a sudden thought tickled him and he paused, turning back with a delighted cackle. "Haha! Hang in there! I just got that! Hang in there, right? Cos you're—"
"Art?" Stutely broke in, his expression teetering on some uncertain balance between concern and relief and poorly-restrained impatience.
"Yeah, mate?" Arthur looked up at him attentively.
"The net? Could you—"
"Oh! Right, the net! Alright, I'm getting to it, don't have kittens..." He turned back to the anchor rope and set his staff against the tree to free up a hand. Right. Yes. It'd actually been a while since he'd had to release one of these things, people didn't usually go blundering into them, but he was pretty sure he remembered—
Stutely's stomach dropped away as the net gave a sudden lurch and plummeted several feet before stabilising with a sharp jerk. "Sorry!" Arthur's voice called out. "I've got it now!" A moment later, the net began descending more gently, until all three of them were reunited with solid ground. Stutely carefully let out a breath and sat up, rubbing his back.
When he looked up, Arthur was there, staff slung over one shoulder, still grinning. "Well, come on, then! Moose won't skin itself, will it?"