"Wake up, you fool—don't you dare die on me!"
Hands hauled my collar, dragged me up the bank, slapped my face twice, then shouted at anyone who stood gawking.
"Spit it out!" my mother screamed. "Spit that water!"
I coughed and puked river, mud, and something bitter. Someone wiped my mouth with a rough sleeve. The world jittered into focus: straw hats, wet hemmed skirts, faces that knew every hair on my head. I forced a laugh I didn't feel.
"Look at you. Fat as ever and dramatic too," I managed. My voice came out raw and small. I liked being sharp. It kept people from touching what was real.
"She's alive," Old Meng said like he was stating a fact that relieved him and annoyed him at once. His hands smelled of smoke and leather. He kept his hunting knife where everyone could see.
"Alive," my mother repeated. She slapped the nearest gossip so hard the woman swallowed a scream. "You lot, stop crowing over a corpse you didn't bury!"
"She was by the south bend," someone offered. "She must've been trying to run off. Girls do foolish things."
"She couldn't even run," a voice scoffed. "Look how she flops."
"Shanshan tried to elope," another hissed. "Must've been some slanted-eyed youth. Those northerners have no manners."
"Who said it was a youth?" I said. I sat up faster than they expected. Water sluiced from my hair onto my sleeves. I
