My head split and the cave smelled of smoke and someone else's perfume. I pushed myself up on one elbow and tasted iron in my mouth. "Ugh," I croaked, then coughed until my ribs complained. "Hello?" I tried again, softer. My voice rasped like a broken bell. It worked. A sound came out. My hand went to my scalp. It was swollen and tender. I searched the rough ground with my fingers and found hair pulled into knots, a ribbon stuck in dirt. "Who am I?" I asked the cave. The cave offered only echoes. I sat. The world tilted. I tested my knees. They held. I tested my tongue. It could move and form words, though thin and dry. I touched my jaw and found teeth whole. There was a pack beside me. I forced my fingers into it and found a scrap of cloth, a small wooden comb, a folded piece of embroidered fabric, and a round of cold rice that smelled faintly of chilies. I folded the rice back in. No point eating cold rice until I knew whether someone was watching. I opened the embroidered cloth. A small jade pendant slid into my palm and caught the dying light. It was carved into a butterfly, the lines tiny and perfect. A tiny seal was etched into the back. I didn't know the seal, but something hit my chest like a weight. "This is not mine," I said to no one. My throat closed again