It must be a hard impact, as hard as hitting the steering wheel, because I see sparkling stars and lose sense for a second. I gasp in fluid in place of air and begin to choke, retching and spasming as my lungs reject it. My eyes spring open in panic, and I grab onto the branches and start trying to haul myself up.

It's my assassin and also my savior, and I cling on, moving with it, using it to get up, breaking into the atmosphere, and coughing out the lungful of salty water that's slowly churning me down. I don't let go. My fingers are hurting and aching with...