Page 9 of Wild Heart

His voice had an edge to it. Not hostility, but a defense mechanism maybe. Natalie recognized it instantly.

Olivia set a bowl of scrambled eggs in the center of the table with a little more force than necessary. "Davey’s taking some time off school."

"Is that so?" Natalie said gently, though she felt the shift in the air immediately.

Davey looked away. Olivia’s jaw tensed.

"It wasn’t going too well," Olivia added, her fork clinking a little too hard against her plate.

Natalie said nothing. She had no desire to prod open oldwounds, especially not at the breakfast table. But something in Olivia’s tone didn’t sound like the whole truth.

Davey stabbed at his eggs. "I got kicked out, Mom. Let’s not sugarcoat it."

The words dropped like stones. Natalie blinked, her eyes flicking to Olivia. Her friend’s face remained calm, but her hands had gone still.

"You don’t have to say it like that," Olivia said quietly.

"How should I say it? That I needed a break? That I just needed to 'find myself'?"

"You don’t need to perform for anyone here," Olivia said, her voice still low but firm.

"I’m not performing," Davey snapped. "I just don’t want to pretend this is some spiritual retreat. I got kicked out. That’s what happened."

The room fell silent again. Natalie shifted in her chair. She could feel the anger in both, raw and unspoken. She knew better than to interfere. But she couldn’t stop herself from noticing how both mother and son seemed caught in their own storm, unable to reach the other. She reached for her coffee. The mug was warm, grounding. Outside, a crow cawed from a high branch. Inside, the silence held.

"I didn’t mean to pry," Natalie offered quietly.

Davey looked at her, something softer in his eyes now. "You didn’t. I just... I don’t really talk about it."

Olivia pushed back her chair and stood. "I’m going to check on the fawn. Natalie, if you’re up for it, I could use help feeding the birds in a bit."

Natalie nodded. "Of course."

When Olivia stepped outside, the tension eased a little, like the tightly drawn string was released.

Davey exhaled. "She doesn’t tell people. About me."

"Definitely not to me," Natalie admitted.

"That’s her way of protecting me. Or maybe protecting herself."

He toyed with his fork.

"It wasn’t drugs, if that’s what you’re wondering. Or grades. I was doing fine. It was... a mistake."

Natalie didn’t press.

"Anyway," he said, pushing back from the table, "welcome to the sanctuary. It’s a weird little world, but it grows on you."

He disappeared out the back door, leaving Natalie alone with the cooling remains of breakfast and the echo of a conversation that felt like it had only just begun. Outside, the morning had brightened. Blue jays called to one another from the trees, and the breeze carried the fresh scent of pine resin and grass. Somewhere in the distance, she imagined Olivia, lost in her worries, speaking softly to an animal.

Natalie stood, collected the plates, and began to rinse them in the sink, her own thoughts turning. This place was more than she’d expected. And, like her, it was still trying to heal, wild things and humans with a common aim.

Natalie stepped out into the crisp morning air, the kitchen door clicking shut behind her. The sky above was cloudless and expansive, stretching in soft hues of blue over the pines. Morning mist still clung to the lower hills, curling around trunks and stones like breath held in the earth. She could hear the low rustle of birds through the trees and the distant call of a red-winged blackbird echoing through the sanctuary.

She pulled her coat tighter around her as she headed down the narrow path toward the animal enclosures, gravel crunching under her boots. The sun had risen fully now, warming the frost-laced grass and bringing a golden sheen to the wooden fences and rooftops of the sanctuary. The whole place seemed to shimmer in the quiet light, like a watercolor brought to life.

The sanctuary was alive with gentle movement. Chickadeesflitted from branch to branch, and a squirrel darted up the side of a cedar, chattering noisily. Natalie passed the aviary, where a great horned owl turned its head to follow her with slow, deliberate grace. Farther down, a line of enclosures stood open to the woods, allowing partially rehabilitated animals to come and go under careful supervision. Each space had been designed to mimic the natural world, fallen logs, running water, mossy rocks. This place was no sterile refuge. It was a staging post before the return.

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