Page 43 of Wild Heart

Then a hand went up. It was the school principal. “I visited last week with a group of fourth graders,” she said. “Those kids saw something that day, compassion, courage, teamwork. My daughter hasn’t stopped talking about it. You have my support.”

Applause followed. Hesitant at first, then building. Others spoke. A local veterinarian. A high school student who’d interned with the raptor rehab team. A mother whose son had struggled with anxiety until volunteering gave him confidence.

Natalie stepped forward. Her voice was steady, her eyes bright. “I came to the sanctuary looking for purpose. What I found was a community. What we do there isn’t just about saving animals. It’s about healing people. Preserving the mostbeautiful wildlife, giving something back. And we need your help to keep doing it.”

Mason joined her at the front, silent but solid beside her. His presence spoke volumes.

Davey stood next. “I know some of you have heard things about me,” he began. “Some of it’s true. I did get in trouble at school. But what you didn’t hear is why. I stood up for someone who was scared and vulnerable. I kept a young woman safe. And I won’t apologize for that. I admit I lost my temper, but it was the first and last time. So please, whether you believe me or not, don’t judge my mom or what everyone does up there by my actions. That’s not fair.”

There was a beat of silence. Then someone clapped. Then another. And another. The hall filled with the sound of support, as though the team had broken down a major barrier and now huge strides forward could be taken.

By the time the meeting ended, a list of new donors had formed at the back table. The mayor shook Olivia’s hand. Parents approached Natalie with words of gratitude. Even some of the most skeptical attendees lingered near the exit, murmuring to one another, not in derision, but in cautious interest.

That weekend, the sanctuary hosted a celebration. Lanterns were strung through the trees, casting golden light across the grounds. Music played, soft and low. Children ran with paper fox masks, and the scent of grilled food mingled with the bite of early evening air.

The sanctuary team worked hard to set up the event, stringing banners between trees and lighting candles along the pathways. Tables were arranged with rescued animal portraits, handmade crafts from the volunteers, and pamphlets about the mission and future goals.

Olivia led a tour through the new rehabilitation wing,proudly displaying the recently finished raptor enclosure. Natalie and Mason took turns introducing attendees to the sanctuary’s newest rescues, three baby squirrels, a red-tailed hawk, and a shy fawn with a stitched shoulder.

“People want to believe in something good,” Natalie said to Mason as they shared a quiet moment near the bonfire. “Sometimes they just need to be reminded it’s possible.”

Mason kissed her temple gently. As dusk fell, Olivia gave a short speech by the fire. Her voice, amplified just enough to carry, was clear and unwavering.

“We built this place from grit, hope, and the belief that the wild matters. And tonight, I see that belief alive in all of you.” The crowd erupted in applause.

Later, as the guests began to trickle away, the core team gathered near the main barn. Laughter bubbled up among them, real and easy. Natalie took a moment to step away, breathing in the night air, watching her breath drift toward the stars. From behind, Mason joined her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“We did it,” he said quietly.

She leaned into him. “We did.”

They stood there for a while, beneath the shimmer of lanterns and stars. And in that light, in that stillness, Natalie knew they weren’t just surviving anymore. They were building something that could last a lifetime.

The stars were scattered like silver needles across a navy sky when Natalie and Mason wandered away from the lanterns and soft chatter that still lingered near the sanctuary’s bonfire. The celebration had spilled into night with laughter and music, but for them, it had narrowed into this quiet moment, away from the crowd and noise. They walked the familiar trail that led to the observation deck, their boots crunching softly over pine needles.It was a space they both gravitated to when they needed breath, or clarity, or each other.

Mason took her hand as they climbed the short set of stairs to the platform. The wind up there was crisp, clean, laced with woodsmoke and the faint musk of damp earth. A blanket had been left draped over the rail, someone from the team, maybe Olivia, anticipating the need for peace.

Natalie wrapped it around her shoulders, turning to face Mason. In the moonlight, his features were softened, but his gaze was steady.

“You look tired,” he said gently.

“I feel...” She hesitated. “Not tired, exactly. Just like I’ve been carrying something for so long, I didn’t realize how heavy it had gotten until I finally set it down.”

He nodded. “And now?”

She looked out over the treetops, then back to him. “Now I just want to stay here. I don’t mean on the deck. I mean here, this place. With you. With Olivia. With the animals. With the work.”

Mason studied her, his heart thudding a little harder. “You mean stay permanently?”

She nodded, slowly. “I’ve been circling that thought since the email. Telling myself I’d go back, tidy up my old life, return to the career I built. But it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It hasn’t in a long time. This place... this feels like home and I know I’m kidding myself if I think I can ever go back to the city.”

He took a step closer, cupping her cheek. “You are home here. Not just because of what you do, but because of who you are.”

Her breath caught. There were still parts of her, fragile and hesitant, that questioned if she deserved something this steady. Something this real.

“You don’t think it’s naïve or weak?” she whispered.

“I think it’s the bravest thing you’ve ever said.”

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