The River Will Rise

A Queer Horror Short Story

Photo by Christine Witcher

Whenever Naren saw Kuan, he had the oddest urge to pull him close—like a fawn abandoned in the woods.

Maybe it was Kuan's large almond eyes or the soft curve of his jaw or those slender wrists. Maybe it was the way he had gently tilted his head when he'd asked Naren to show him that hidden chanterelle spot he had mentioned. Family secret be damned, Naren had jumped at the chance to spend more time with his new friend.

The sun was warm on his back as they traveled east towards the forest along a deeply-rutted road. He pulled his dark hair into a knot at the top of his head, tying it with a leather strap.

Occasionally, a breeze would kick up and the sun would move behind a cloud. He would see Kuan pull his rough-spun sweater tighter around his narrow shoulders. Just as Naren would muster up the courage to offer the other man his coat, the cloud would move and the sun would grace them again.

"Has your family always lived in Tenri Uul?" Kuan asked, adjusting his small pack.

Naren nodded. "Ma was born down in Darin but moved into town when she met dad. I've lived in our house my whole life."

A shadow passed over Kuan's tan face—a hint of longing—but it cleared as quickly as it arrived.

"What about you?" Naren asked.

"My mother was an itinerant worker in Matsuzaki. I never knew my father. We moved around a lot... until she died." His tone was even—too even—as if the story had been rehearsed.

Naren's face scrunched but Kuan waved him off before he could stumble through appropriately somber condolences. He tried to think of something else to say, maybe something about how glad he was Kuan had stumbled into their village last month—

"Berries," Kuan said, pointing out a thicket of cloudberries in the marshy banks of the north fork of the Orkhos.

"These ones we can eat," Naren said with a smile. "And they're good."

Naren had filled a small woven basket with the plump, flesh-toned berries when Kuan's shoulder brushed his while reaching on tip-toes for a berry near the back of the bush. A warm tingle flooded up his arm and his cheeks grew warm. He opened his mouth, hoping something dashingly clever would tumble out. Before inspiration could strike, their attention was pulled back to the road by the clip of horse hooves.

They both turned, watching for a long while as a tall man on a taller black horse approached, heavy saddlebags thumping as it walked. The man pulled up and removed a broad-brimmed felt hat. Hanging it on the pommel, he looked them both up and down before smiling a weak smile. His eyes were the lightest blue Naren had ever seen—nearly blending into the whites.

“Boys,” the traveler said with a tip of his head.

Naren prickled at the word. He was nineteen and didn’t feel like a boy anymore. He was tall and broad shouldered, with stubble shadowing a firm chin below high cheekbones.

Naren's nose itched as a breeze picked up, carrying the smell of river bank and petrichor. A light drizzle pattered on his hair. It beaded on the waxed canvas of the traveler's long coat and the man looked up, squinting into the darkening sky. His eyes had taken on a steel cast as he trained them on Naren and Kuan. The hairs stood on the back of Naren's neck, from the man or the changing weather he wasn't sure.

"That river'll rise if this picks up," the traveler said. He wasn’t looking at the clouds. He was looking at Kuan. Naren's eyes flicked to the man's hand, where he was scratching at his palm with his nails.

Naren jumped when the man spoke again.

The traveler’s eyes were locked on Kuan. "Best find cover."

Kuan stepped closer to Naren, and Naren instinctively put his body between the traveler and his friend.

The traveler stared a moment too long at Kuan before donning his hat and turning his horse towards the bridge over the Orkhos.

After the man had moved out of earshot, Kuan spoke. His voice was soft. “You heard about the breakout last month, right?”

Kuan’s face was still and his eyes narrow, as if he was waiting to gauge Naren’s reaction.

Naren’s stomach churned. “Up north?”

“Yeah, they said the locks just went out. All the doors opened at once and they just walked out.”

“Wouldn’t the locks be artificer made? How do they just fail?” Naren asked.

“Word on the road is that the magic field has been acting weird lately, so…” Kuan shrugged.

Naren had never heard of an artificer-made device failing suddenly. Running out of power, yes. But failing? And now a bunch of violent criminals had scattered across Tenri Uul. He shivered. “Do you think that traveler could be from up north?”

Kuan shrugged again but didn’t seem concerned.

The rain picked up and began to run down Naren's cheeks.

"I'd kill for a jacket like that," Kuan said wistfully, watching the traveler as the man crossed the bridge, and continued down the road.

Naren looked Kuan over, taking in the sight of his wool sweater—no longer beading rain as it soaked through—and the damp canvas shoes on his feet. He had been so eager to take his friend out in the woods that he hadn’t noticed how ill-prepared Kuan was.

“We should find cover," he said, placing a hand on Kuan's slight shoulder and guiding him back to the road.

They crossed the bridge at a slow jog and ducked into the forest on the other side, where the remaining afternoon light struggled to cut through the dense foliage.

At a beech grove, they gathered a few chanterelles. The rain came harder. Cold seeped into Naren’s bones, and his jaw ached from clenching it.

"Enough," Naren said. "I know a trapper cabin nearby."

Naren pulled his coat off and threw it over Kuan's shoulders. Kuan looked down at Naren's heavy leather boots for a moment, face blank, then shook his head and looked up at Naren, eyes bright with gratitude.

Naren's arm lingered for a moment, the fog of their breath mingling, before he stepped back, uncertain if he was pushing too hard for connection. Making moves where they weren't wanted. But Kuan stepped forward, his lips parting—not quite in a smile, but not quite something else either.

The harsh shriek of a barn owl pierced through the thrum of rain and Naren stepped back abruptly. "Let's go."

***

The trapper cabin sat a dozen yards off the trail at the edge of a large meadow. It was a simple shelter—four walls of rough-hewn logs on an elevated platform. A pitched roof overhung a small porch. Naren brushed a cobweb from the door frame and heaved on the cast-iron lever that latched the heavy wood entrance. The scurry of tiny claws on wood signaled the exodus of its prior tenants.

It took a moment for Naren's eyes to adjust. He stood at the threshold until Kuan's hand slithered across his lower back as his friend moved beside him.

They both jumped when the wood door slammed shut on it’s rusty hinges. Naren let out an awkward laugh and cursed himself for being startled. He glanced at Kuan to see if he'd noticed, but the small room was too dark to see much more than his outline.

"Cozy," Kuan said, walking to the single window and brushing a thick layer of soot and dust from the ledge. He lingered at the window for a moment, like he was watching for something.

"And dry," Naren said, dropping his pack to the floor and rummaging through it. He pulled out a mess kit and a small alcohol stove. Squinting into the back of the cabin, he looked for the wood-burning stove that sat beneath the small loft and eyed the measly pile of dry firewood with disappointment. He lit the stove and stripped off his jacket, hanging it to dry. Kuan did the same with his sweater.

They stepped back out onto the porch and Naren set up the stove on a log round, taking a seat on another. He boiled water and made a quick stew of rehydrated rabbit meat, barley, and kohlrabi. He caught Kuan watching him out of the corner of his eye, and his chest swelled. Tasting the stew, he added salt and wild chives, and savored the opportunity to showcase his competence in the woods.

The rain pooled in low spots in the tall grass and streamed down the roof of the cabin in rivers. Shadows moved in the woods surrounding the meadow, but Naren swallowed his concern and focused instead on his friend beside him.

The sun was setting. They were warm and dry, and their bellies were full. A wave of exhaustion pulled at Naren's limbs and he imagined his friend felt the same.

"Let's get you to bed," he said, hoping he sounded thoughtful.

The corner of Kuan's mouth twitched and then curled into a warm smile as he rose and reached out his hand.

They climbed the wood ladder into the loft. Naren unrolled his bedroll and offered it to Kuan, laying down beside him on his own jacket. Naren was still, his shoulder brushing Kuan’s, debating a move. Eventually, warmth and Kuan’s steady presence lulled his anxious muscles, and he drifted off.

***

Something dragged Naren from sleep. Not a noise—the silence. The rain had stopped. The cabin was sealed in stillness and cloaked in darkness. No wind. No little claws on wood. Nothing but his own breath.

He reached out instinctively, brushing over rough wood and scratchy wool. Cold. Too cold. Kuan must have slipped out to relieve himself.

Naren held his breath and listened—past the thrum of his blood in his ears and the occasional creak of a tree limb high above the cabin. Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump.

The air burned in his lungs, but he flared his nostrils and listened on. Moments passed. He took shallow breaths, unwilling to disturb the stillness. Where was Kuan? His bedroll was so cold. Not just empty—abandoned.

A soft sound cut through the silence—like a snort, or maybe a groan?

Then a heavy thump.

Then silence again.

Shit.

Though every nerve told him to hide, Naren knew he should get up, should look for Kuan, but the thought turned his stomach. Something felt so off about this quiet.

He was being a coward. Kuan could have lost the trail on the way back or wandered onto the road and ran into someone. That traveler, maybe. Something had been odd about the man. Those eyes... they were too pale, his teeth too white. A foreigner... and strange. What if he had come from up north? From the breakout. A chill ran over Naren’s scalp.

Another snort echoed in the distance, clearer this time. Like the protest of a large animal. Goosebumps rose on Naren’s arms and he tightened his fists.

Why had Kuan gone out in the first place? He should have pissed off the porch like any other sane person would. Why wander around alone in the dark?

He exhaled—and another breath answered.

Fuck.

The breathing crept closer. Then came the unmistakable drag of a shoe across the warped floorboards. Slow. Deliberate.

His jaw clenched and he rose slowly onto his elbows, listening. Waiting.

Panic rose in Naren's throat, but he choked it back and summoned all the rage he could find. Damn it, Kuan. Why had he gone out in the storm? Fuck that traveler for being out on the road. Fuck this entire fucking world.

In a determined motion, he swung his legs over the edge of the loft and placed a bare foot on the top rung, shifting his weight onto it.

"Kuan?" he whispered.

No response.

A warm, damp breeze grazed the back of his ankle and his bones turned to ice. He recoiled as if bitten, dragging his limbs in fast and scrambling backwards. He tucked into a ball and stared into the darkness, eyes wide and darting frantically. The shadows in the corners of the cabin seemed to morph and twist grotesquely, mocking his fear.

The ladder shook and his heart leapt into his throat. He would have screamed had his body not chosen to freeze.

A head rose slowly into view. Hair clung to it in wet strands. A familiar shape, but the movement was so slow. A wave of relief surged through his chest—but it fizzled the moment Kuan's eyes caught the dim moonlight. For half a second, they looked... wrong. Empty. Then he blinked, and they were just eyes again.

Kuan crawled silently into the loft and back to his bedroll, settling back down beside him. Naren’s arms twitched as his adrenaline subsided. He wanted to say something but felt suddenly so very foolish for his reaction. Kuan had been downstairs the whole time and Naren had been up here working himself into a frenzy for no reason.

"You had me worried," he finally whispered. "You were gone for a while."

Kuan didn't answer and Naren felt foolish all over again. But then the warm touch of a hand slid over his own. Without a word, Kuan laced their fingers together.

Naren took a shaky breath. Then another, smoother this time. He settled into his bed, enjoying the feeling of Kuan’s skin on his. Warm, reassuring. Then—too warm. And slick. Like the inside of a mouth.

The hand was slightly sticky, in a way that clung to his fingers when he gently pulled them away. His pulse quickened as he lifted his hand to his face. Mouth dry, he inhaled, gagging at the metallic reek of blood.

He looked up, terror and disgust billowing like smoke in his lungs.

Kuan loomed over him.

Grinning.

***

The sun peeked out from behind a cloud and a whistled tune carried on the wind.

A lone figure strolled down the deeply rutted road, heading south. A broad-brimmed hat low over his face. Heavy leather boots thudded with each step and a slender wrist peeked from the sleeve of the traveler's waxed-canvas jacket—far too wide in the shoulders.