Page 28 of Wild Heart

Later that evening, after dinner had been cleaned up and the rest of the volunteers had gone to bed, Natalie stepped outside for some air. Snow still fell in lazy spirals, coating the path in a glittering layer of silence. She heard footsteps behind her and didn’t need to turn to know it was Mason.

"Couldn’t sleep?" he asked.

"Just needed to breathe. And think."

He walked beside her to the edge of the clearing where the tree line stood like dark sentries. "You surprised me today."

She tilted her head. "How so?"

"Not the way you spoke. I’ve seen that fire in you. But... how you carried all of us with you. You didn’t just fight for the sanctuary. You carried Olivia. Davey. The animals. Even me."

She was quiet for a moment. "You helped me believe I could."

He reached out and gently brushed a snowflake from her hair. "I’m proud of you."

Her breath caught. She turned to face him fully, snow collecting in the folds of her scarf and lashes. "I think I’m starting to be proud of me too."

He smiled, and it wasn’t the half-smirk he usually gave. It was real, open, touched by something deeper.

"Do you ever wonder if we’re doing the right thing?" she asked. "Pushing so hard against a tide that just keeps coming."

"Every day," he answered. "But then I look around at thisplace, and at you, and I remember why it’s worth it. The right things aren’t easy. They never are. But they’re the ones that change everything."

She blinked, tears threatening again, but she didn’t let them fall. Not yet.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, voice a whisper of warmth in the cold.

Natalie nodded, heart thudding. And when their lips met, it was slow, sure, and filled with promise. Everything was still worth fighting for.

11

The snow had begun to melt in patches along the sanctuary trails, revealing soft earth beneath and a promise of spring stitched into the fabric of winter’s end. Birds called more frequently now, and the ever-present hush of the forest was laced with something more vibrant.

Olivia sat on the edge of her bed, bundling her scarf around her neck with slow, deliberate fingers. Her left leg, still recovering from the compound fracture, was supported by a brace, but she could stand now, albeit briefly and with effort. Natalie stood nearby, watching her with careful patience. A knit beanie sat crooked on Olivia's head, strands of silver-streaked brown hair poking out beneath it. Her cheeks had faint color again, and her eyes, those always-sharp, intelligent eyes now held the first glimmer of confidence Natalie had seen in weeks.

"You sure about this?" Natalie asked, her voice low, but laced with admiration.

Olivia looked up, eyes determined. "I need to be outside. I need to remember what I’m fighting for."

"As if you ever forgot."

"Maybe. But I’ve spent too many weeks looking out of windows. Today... I want to feel it."

Natalie smiled and reached for the walking poles leaning against the wall. She wore her field jacket, soft with use and patched at the elbow, her face framed by wind-chilled cheeks and the braid that had become her trademark. "Then let’s go set something wild free."

By the time they reached the edge of the trees, the mid-morning sun had broken through the clouds, warming the path just enough to soften the air. Mason stood by the truck with the transport crate already secured. He was bundled in his forest green jacket, sleeves rolled to reveal his worn gloves. His stubble was thicker than usual, his hair tied back neatly. When he saw Olivia approaching, he straightened and gave her a nod.

Inside the crate was the wolf. A young female, roughly two years old, her thick gray coat tinged with streaks of russet and silver. Her amber eyes shifted between the humans with alert calculation, her body low but tense, muscles coiled in anticipation. Scars etched her flank where the wound had once festered, but her fur had grown back thick, and hopefully, the pain she’d endured was only a memory now, a part of her survival story.

"She’s ready. We’ll take her to the clearing and set her free," Mason said as he stepped aside to let Olivia and Natalie come closer. His voice was deep and quiet, as though he respected the moment too much to speak loudly.

Olivia gripped the handle of the crate for a moment. Her breath shuddered slightly, and Natalie saw her steady herself with every ounce of the resilience she’d always known Olivia carried.

As Natalie leaned forward, she caught a flash of something in Olivia’s expression and when her friend spoke, she realised why.

“This reminds me… it’s like a long-lost memory returned for a moment, the present hurtling in on the past. I’d like to say something, if I may.” Olivia looked from Mason to Natalie, both nodded encouragements.

“Twenty-seven years ago, give or take, I stood in a similar clearing, though the landscape was different. Much wilder, less touched by human hands. I was fresh out of college and had my first real job at a modest wildlife rescue in northern Oregon. It had been pouring rain the day I released my first rehabbed fox.” Olivia smiled, although her eyes were lost somewhere in the past, seeing someone nobody else could. “My mentor, a wiry old man named Samuel handed her the crate and said, ‘This is why we do it. She will be your first.’ I lifted the latch, and the fox darted from the cage, soaked and blinking into the wind. I wept so hard, not out of sadness, but out of awe. That moment, the feeling of letting something go to give it a better life was a turning point in mine. I swore a silent oath to myself that I’d build my own sanctuary one day. A place where broken things could be made whole. And now, here I am, older and bruised, but unbroken. That same fire still burns inside me, like the wild heart that beats inside this animal. And I swear, another day another oath, that while I have breath in my body and people like you around me, I will never give up.”

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