The old canoe wasn’t built for this. Neither was Claire.

She dug the paddle into the water, her shoulders aching, her grip raw. The river had swelled from the week’s storms, its surface deceptively smooth in places, treacherous in others. It pulled at them, relentless, uncaring. She knew better than to fight it—power never beat water, only timing and precision. But right now, her body wanted to fight everything.

“Keep it steady,” Alex said from the back, his voice carrying over the rush of the current. Calm. Controlled. Like he didn’t doubt they would make it through.

Ahead, the river narrowed, funneled through a mess of rocks and whitewater. The rapids weren’t massive, but they were enough. Enough to take them under, enough to remind her of last time. She could still feel it—water closing over her head, the current twisting her like a rag doll, the sickening moment of realizing she wasn’t in control.

She gritted her teeth. Not this time.

The first wave hit hard, lifting the bow too high before slamming it back down. Water surged over the sides. The canoe wobbled, and for a split second, she thought it was happening again, that they were going under—

Then Alex’s voice, sharp and certain. “Lean forward!”

Her instincts screamed at her to lean back, to resist, to brace against the force of the river. But she forced herself to trust. She pitched forward just as the canoe crashed down, slicing through the last of the rapids before the river opened up again, stretching smooth and endless before them.

Neither of them spoke as they paddled on. The only sound was the water, moving on as if nothing had happened.

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This story was created with the assistance of OpenAI’s ChatGPT, which provided creative inspiration and initial drafts. Readability Matters made all final edits and creative decisions.