Saanvi had come to the river alone that afternoon, seeking a moment of quiet after a long morning of chores. The village was small, the sun high and hot, and the stretch of water beyond the last fields was usually empty at this hour. She had left her sari and blouse folded on a flat rock under the neem tree, keeping only her thin cotton petticoat on as she stepped into the cool shallows. The water came up to her thighs. She cupped it in her hands and poured it over her shoulders, letting it run down between her breasts, sighing at the relief.

She did not hear them at first.