She wasn't a fool—she didn't know how deep this river went, and she wasn't in the mood to find out the hard way. The water barely reached her knees, but it was enough.
She glanced around, then tugged off her white top, the fabric damp from sweat and dirt. She tossed it near the blazer on the rock but left her grey pants on. Who knew what kind of things lived in the water? Snakes. Leeches. Creepy river things. No thank you.
"Like they'd ignore my chest and aim for my legs?" she snorted softly to herself. Still—not a risk worth taking.
She stepped further in and took a deep breath.
Then, with a slow inhale, Kaya let herself fall forward, submerging fully beneath the water.
Silence.
The world vanished for a heartbeat—just the hush of river water pressing around her, the fleeting weightlessness, the cold drawing every thought out of her body. For one second, there was no sparrow, no noise, no stupid shoes.
Just water.
