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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It took him a long time to prepare the deer. Ariana sat and watched, unable to look away, even as it turned her stomach. The whole thing disgusted her. She was a vegetarian. Eating meat was wrong. Killing animals, especially something as gentle and harmless as a deer, felt even worse.

The process dragged on. At times she had to turn her head, unable to bear the sight of blood, though she could still hear the dull scrape of bone. The smell made her nauseous. The boy didn’t seem to notice any of it. He worked steadily, as if this were nothing at all.

She began to think of him as something less than human.

At last, he finished. Ariana watched as he coaxed the fire back to life using scraps of cotton and the lingering heat from the night before. He cut the meat with a knife she hadn’t seen him take out before, skewered it on sticks, and held it over the flames.

Her stomach growled.

She had said nothing all day and meant to keep it that way. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her speak again. She would not ask for food from someone who killed animals. Her silence was the only thing she had left to control, and she clung to it.

Even so, as the meat slowly roasted, she could almost taste it.

Victor shook his head. He couldn’t understand what had gotten into the girl. She had to be starving by now. It was only a few hours until dusk, and the days were growing shorter. That fish she’d eaten the night before couldn’t have lasted this long.

He, at least, was always hungry. He could eat endlessly if he let himself. But he had learned restraint. Winter would come soon, and food would grow scarce. He remembered his first winter in the wilderness—how close he had come to starving. Ingram had saved him then. The bird had shown him where to find food, had even brought him scraps when there was nothing else. After that, it had never really left him.

More than anything, it had given him a reason to keep going.

“Now,” Victor said aloud, “as I asked before, who wants some of this deer?” He looked at the girl. She looked back, but said nothing.

Victor turned to Ingram, perched on a nearby tree. “It’s too bad she won’t talk,” he said. “I’m sure she’s starving.” He lifted one of the sticks and inhaled deeply, exaggerating the gesture. “Mmm.”

“Why do you talk to that bird?” Her voice was sudden and thin with weakness.

Victor smiled and held the stick out to her. “Because no one else will. Do you want this?”

She hesitated, then slowly reached out and took it.

The stick felt heavier than it should have. Ariana struggled to lift it. She closed her eyes and took a bite. It was… good. Tough, but rich. Warm. How long had it been since she’d eaten meat?

She tried to think of the deer—the soft eyes, the life that had been taken—but the thought slipped away as her hunger took over. She ate more, faster now, until the warmth spread through her and dulled the sharp edge of her fear.

She shouldn’t have spoken. The question had been stupid. She didn’t want him thinking she was begging. Maybe now that she had said something, he would leave her alone.

He didn’t.

“What’s your name?” he asked. “Mine’s Victor.”

She lowered her eyes and let out a quiet breath. “Ariana,” she muttered.

Victor smiled and bit into his own share.

When she finished, she dropped the stick. It struck the pebbles with a light crack.

For a moment, something like sadness passed through Victor. He watched her, small and withdrawn, and wondered if it was the food making him soft. Or maybe it wasn’t. He could see what she must be feeling—alone, frightened, hurt. But the feeling didn’t last.

It gave way to something else. Anger, sharp and familiar. He thought he understood her now. A rich girl, from a good school, used to being cared for, used to having everything handed to her. The kind of person he had run from all those years ago.

And then the realization settled in. If she was here, others might be looking for her. He couldn’t allow that.

“Remember when you mentioned other people last night?” Victor asked. “How did you end up out here?”

Ariana looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears.

“All I remember is riding the bus home from a state tournament,” Ariana said. “All my friends were there—the whole football team. Then it started raining. Hard. Lightning, thunder everywhere. The bus started spinning…” She shook her head. “After that, nothing. The next thing I knew, I was here.”

Victor listened closely, hanging on each word, few as they were. His eyes stayed fixed on her, his tongue passing slowly over his lips. It was enough. Enough to satisfy his curiosity, enough to give shape to what came next. Tomorrow, he would go looking for the others.

For a moment, his anger settled, and something else returned to fill the space. “You must be cold,” he said.

Ariana felt the shame settle in. She had broken her silence. Worse, she had eaten the meat—something she swore she would never do. Yet hunger had won, and she could not deny that it had been better than starving.

As she finished telling her story, the exhaustion caught up with her all at once. Everything she had held back broke loose. She slid to the ground and cried—loud, helpless, and unrestrained. Victor watched as the hours passed and her sobs slowly gave way to silence.

At last, she had nothing left.

“Are you cold?” he asked again, as if no time had passed.

She nodded.

“There’s nothing I can do tonight,” Victor said, “but tomorrow I’ll try to make you something from the deer hide.”

She almost protested, but stopped herself. Wearing animal skin was better than freezing.

Night fell, closing over the inlet like a curtain. Firelight flickered against the waterfall, casting restless patterns along the stone. Victor rose and stood with his back to her, looking out over the pool.

“I’m going to bed,” he said. “Are you staying out here again, or coming inside?”

Inside. The cave.

Ariana’s blood ran cold. What did he mean by that? Was this what he had been waiting for? She hesitated, her thoughts racing. She shouldn’t have spoken to him at all. He probably thinks I like him, she thought bitterly. As if I ever could.

“Alright,” she said at last, her voice barely more than a breath.

Victor turned, uncertain. “Then let’s go,” he said. “It’s dark, and I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

She nodded and rose.

Now that she was closer, he saw her clearly. Even worn down by injury and hunger, she was striking. Blonde hair to her shoulders, an athlete’s build, a natural grace that had not yet left her. The sight stirred something he tried to ignore, and failed. A heaviness settled over him, the quiet knowledge of what he could never have.

He led her toward the cave.

The climb up the terrace was steep, and he helped her over the worst of it. Inside, he gave her his blanket and stepped back. She lay down on her side, about a foot away, turned toward the wall. If there had been more space, he suspected she would have taken it.

Victor lay awake behind her, staring at the outline of her back. He wondered what it would feel like to touch her—not with harm, but simply to know the contact of another person.

After a long while, he gave in. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, just as he had when he first found her.

She jerked away instantly.

Victor pulled back, the motion sharp and final. The moment collapsed in on itself. He lay still, his expression empty, his thoughts sealed away. In the dark, unseen, a single tear slipped from his eye, traced a line down his cheek, and disappeared into the cold stone beneath him.

Continued in Chapter 4…