The water is freezing. It feels like a million needles pricking at my skin at the same time, cruel and relentless. Only after the initial shock of the temperature has passed do I realize I don’t know how to swim. All the contact I’ve ever had with water in Marakahala has been hot baths and rachitic rivers. I clamp my mouth shut and pinch my nose with my fingers. Do not freak out, Rabyah. You can’t die yet. I repeat this words over and over in my head. They are not working. The current tosses me around mercilessly, and all I can see are shadows and unknown moving beings. My lungs burn. I kick against the current but it only seems to make me sink deeper. Something grabs my ankle and I scream. Nothing but bubbles come out, but the water rushed inside my mouth immediately. I try to twist and only then I realize I’m not holding the dagger anymore. Either I left it at the shore or I released it when I jumped into the river. I guess it doesn’t matter: my lungs hurt like nothing in my life has ever hurt before, and my vision is coming in and out of focus. The thing that grabbed my ankle ascends my leg and tugs harder.