M.A. Kleen

Twenty-five years ago, I self-published The River of Rain, a philosophical exploration of freedom, human nature, and the modern world. To mark its anniversary, I’m releasing a fully revised edition, one chapter every Wednesday. This is the novel as it was meant to be.

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Victor awoke to the gnaw of an empty stomach. As it growled, he rolled off the straw mat he had fashioned for a bed, yawned, and stretched. Only then did he remember the girl.

He stepped out into the morning sun and found her exactly where she had been the night before. She sat wrapped in the jacket, staring into nothing.

“Good morning,” Victor said cheerily.

No response.

Ingram swept in from somewhere unseen and settled on his shoulder. “Hello, Ingram,” Victor said. The bird answered with a sharp screech. “I don’t think our new friend is going to talk today.”

Victor slid down the limestone shelf. Ingram lifted off, circled once, then returned. “Do you want breakfast?” Victor asked.

She glanced at him, then turned away.

“Whatever,” he muttered, stretching again as he headed for the water. This time the raven did not follow. It flew to a dead tree and stayed there.

Fear was the thing Ariana felt most. She didn’t know where she was, remembered almost nothing of how she had gotten there, and worst of all was the strange man who had found her. She couldn’t understand why he showed no sympathy. Whenever she’d had problems before, guys had fallen over themselves to help.

Where were her friends? What were her parents thinking right now?

The questions crowded in, more than usual, until her head throbbed with them. She wanted to be home. Why wasn’t anyone coming?

Then there was the cold. She wore only her sweatpants, t-shirt, and the jacket she had left the game with, and it wasn’t enough. It was late fall. Yet this man, who had appeared out of nowhere, wore almost nothing and seemed not to feel it at all.

And the bird. That ugly black thing, always nearby. She wished now she had paid more attention in zoology.

These were the thoughts that filled her mind as she stared at the smooth, damp rock walls and sat without moving. She barely heard him speaking to her.

Victor reclined against the wall on the plateau above the cave, watching the girl below by the stream. He wondered when she would speak. Was her silence defiance, or something else? Did she think herself above him? He could have left her in the woods to die. Maybe she didn’t understand that.

He rose and picked his way down the steep incline toward her. “You said something about others,” he called.

She turned her face away.

“What’s your name?”

Nothing.

He paused. How do I get her to talk? Victor sighed. “Well,” he said aloud, “I’m going into the woods to get food.” He turned to Ingram. “You stay here and make sure our friend doesn’t disappear.”

The raven’s eyes widened. It let out a harsh, angry screech.

Ariana watched the man leave, uneasy. Before disappearing into the trees, he gathered a spear, a knife, and a makeshift bow from the cave. She didn’t trust him, not even after he had saved her life. If she was going to get out of here, she would have to do it herself.

She looked around. The only way out of the inlet was a narrow gap between the rock walls, maybe twenty feet across. Beyond it ran a path, and past that, the river. She wondered how no one on the water had ever noticed this place—or the strange man who lived here. When she got home, she would find out exactly which river it was.

Home.

There was no better time than now, she decided.

Ariana rose slowly from the silty ground and started toward the gap, trying to appear casual. This is ridiculous, she told herself, straightening her stride. All this over a little bird—

As if summoned by the thought, the black raven spread its wings wide and launched straight at her, cutting off the exit. Ariana screamed and stumbled back, throwing herself to the ground where she had been sitting before.

Ingram returned to his perch, ruffled his feathers, and began calmly grooming himself.

Victor moved through the woods with practiced care, placing each step so as not to disturb a branch or snap a twig. Normally Ingram guided him to game, but today the bird was elsewhere, and Victor had chosen one of the hunting grounds he rotated through from time to time.

It required more focus than usual. His thoughts would not settle.

He spotted a deer grazing on berries and lowered himself slowly to one knee. As he watched it, his mind drifted back to the girl—to what she had said about others.

Others.

One day he might have to go looking for them. He could not risk anyone stumbling onto his refuge. What if someone returned to the city and spoke of this place? They would come, no doubt of it, bringing their noise and their habits, forcing their ways on him.

No. There must be no others.

He forced the thought aside. Focus.

Victor set his spear down and took up the bow, never taking his eyes off the animal. He nocked an arrow and drew. The shot had to be clean—straight to the neck. And if he could recover the arrow, all the better; finding a branch straight enough to fashion another was never easy.

THWANG.

The arrow struck true. Blood burst as the deer collapsed, its legs twitching, life clinging for a few final moments. Victor approached, raised his spear, and finished it.

Ariana rocked back and forth, her chin knocking against her knees. If she couldn’t escape, what would happen to her? As long as that bird remained, there was no way out—and even less once the boy returned.

She was cold and alone, yet there was a small, reluctant comfort in knowing she was safe, at least for now. He hadn’t seemed cruel. He had given her food, built a fire, and kept his distance. Maybe… maybe she could endure this place, if she had to.

Still, she was filthy. The thought of it made her grimace. A shower—just a simple shower—would feel like heaven.

She glanced around. The waterfall was there, but it looked murky, alive with dirt and whatever else clung to it. The river might be better.

As she considered it, a sound drifted up the path. Moments later, the boy emerged, a deer slung across his shoulders.

“Who wants to eat?” he called.

Continued in Chapter 4…