Page 17 of Wild Heart

"You’re good with him," she said softly, still watching the place where Davey had disappeared.

Mason leaned back on the railing beside her. "He’s got something to prove. I get that."

She looked at him, her head tilted slightly. "You don’t strike me as someone who needs to prove anything."

"Maybe not anymore," Mason said, his voice quiet. "But I remember what it felt like. There was a time I was the one with the reputation for messin’ up, the guy who people expected to fail, and I have to say, I didn’t disappoint. I don’t want that for Davey or his mom."

There was a pause. The wind stirred again, lifting a few loose strands of Natalie’s hair and sweeping them across her face. Without thinking, Mason reached over and brushed one behind her ear. Her breath caught. It was a simple touch. Gentle. Brief. But it lit something inside her that had been extinguished for a long time.

"You seem... different up here," she said, trying to steady her voice.

He half-smiled. "You mean less of a pain in the ass?"

She laughed, the sound soft and surprised. "No. Well. Maybe a little. But more... open."

Mason looked out at the horizon. The light touched his face in angles accentuating a cut across his cheekbone, the faint scar above his brow.

"It’s easy to be closed off when you’re always protecting yourself and it’s a habit I find hard to shake," he said. "Sometimes it takes the right people to remind you that you don’t have to."

Natalie was quiet, the potential meaning of his words settling gently in her chest.

"Do you think this place can really heal people?" she asked.

"I don’t know about people," Mason said. "But it’s healed a hell of a lot of animals. And me, I guess."

He looked at her then, really looked. "Maybe it’ll do the same for you."

Natalie’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the world felt narrowed down to that gaze. The wind. The hush of the forest. The unspoken question of what came next.

"Maybe," she said.

He nodded once, like that was enough. They stood side by side, the sky above them a riot of orange and gold. Below, the sanctuary pulsed with quiet life. And for now, that beat that was enough.

7

The storm had rolled in quickly, without warning. Low clouds dropped heavy over the mountains, swallowing the light in shades of pewter and bruise. The wind had begun its steady howl by late morning, skimming low through the trees and bending their tops like they were bowing to something ancient and wild. Rain came in short bursts at first, then in sheets that soaked the earth and muddied the trails, filling the air with the scent of moss and wet bark.

Natalie stood by the loading shed, pulling on her waterproof jacket, her breath misting in the air. The sky was churning above, and everything felt tight. The air, her nerves, the urgency caused by the storm.

Mason emerged from the barn with a field crate slung under one arm and a coil of rope in the other. He wore a dark green rain shell over his flannel, droplets running off the brim of his cap. Davey followed close behind, drenched to the bone despite his hood, arms full of supplies.

"We got the call ten minutes ago," Olivia said, her voice raised over the wind as she joined them. Her hair was tied back in a braid, her face drawn with focus. "Local hiker said he saw alarge animal down in one of the northern ravines. Could be a wolf, maybe a coyote. Possibly a bear cub. Either way, it’s not moving."

Natalie exchanged a glance with Mason. "How far in?"

"About three miles off the secondary trail," Olivia said. "It’s a steep descent. That area floods when it rains."

"We can’t wait," Mason said. "If it’s injured and stuck, it could drown before the night."

Natalie nodded. The panic in her chest exacerbated by the thudding of her heart. She wasn’t afraid, exactly. But something about the weather, about the strange quiet that had settled over the forest, made her skin prickle.

They split the packs. Natalie and Mason carried the medical gear, Olivia kept the radio, and Davey slung a tarp and extra rope across his shoulders. They set off at a quick pace, their boots slipping in the mud as they ascended the western ridge trail, then turned off toward the old game trail that would take them to the ravine.

The forest had turned into something else entirely under the storm’s eye. Branches clawed at their sleeves. Trees groaned above them. Water dripped steadily from every surface, pooling in gullies and soaking their pant legs. The trail narrowed to a faint, winding path over wet rock and thick undergrowth.

"You okay back there?" Mason called over his shoulder.

"Still breathing," Davey replied, though his voice trembled from exertion, maybe more.

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