And cough Kate does, deep and harsh, the kind where her stomach clenches and twists with the force of it, trying to expel everything. She clenches the ground, forcing herself to try and breathe. Not cough, not choke, but breathe again. However harshly, she has to start breathing.

It's a shock. She'd been asleep, dreaming, but as real as her dreams are, this is all dirt-under-her-hands, cloth-sticking-to-her real in ways dreams never are when you remember them. It's a shock, and a big part of her wants to cry.

A bigger part wants to come out swinging at the bloody fools who threw her into a fountain.

... A fountain?

"Where?" She tries again. "What happened?"