Page 25

The scent of smoke lingered long after the flames had passed.

By dawn, the fire was mostly contained. The sanctuary’s perimeter was scarred, blackened soil, charred tree stumps, and patches of melted fencing lay like the skeleton of a battle lost. But the main buildings had survived, and miraculously, not a single life had been lost. The animals, sheltered in makeshift care stations set up in the community center and a handful of borrowed barns, were calm but disoriented.

The humans weren’t much different. Natalie stood dazed, taking it all in, going over it all in her head.

The fire had come fast. A dry lightning strike had ignited a long-dead pine on the eastern ridge, and within minutes, the flames had leapt across the treetops, fed by underbrush that hadn’t seen rain in weeks.

The wind turned cruel, gusting southeast and driving the fire directly toward the sanctuary’s eastern perimeter.

Volunteers had only a few minutes to mobilize.

Olivia had sounded the alarm and activated the emergency protocols, but the smoke had already begun creeping in by the time the first calls were placed.

The old water tanks couldn’t pump fast enough, and though the local fire team had scrambled, the remote nature of the property meant delays.

Inside the sanctuary, Mason and Natalie had coordinated triage.

Olivia had overseen animal transfers, and Davey, angry and withdrawn until that moment, had thrown himself into the work like a man possessed.

They formed a chain of motion, a rhythm of rescue.

One team rounded up the larger mammals, foxes, deer, raccoons, guiding them into transport trailers.

Another group tended to the birds, each one sedated and wrapped gently before being carried to safety.

For hours, it was chaos.

The eastern fence was the first to go, a wall of fire devouring it in seconds. The sound of it, the snapping, groaning, the furious hiss of oxygen surrendering, was something none of them would forget. Animals shrieked and bellowed. Radios crackled. People shouted over the roar of heat.

And yet, no one fled. Even as trees collapsed, even as sparks rained down like hell’s snow, they stayed. They worked. They carried cages and poured water and shouted each other’s names.

It was Davey who saw the last fox kit, cowering in a drainage pipe.

He dove, belly-first, and dragged the creature out, shielding it with his body as Mason hauled them both to safety.

It was Natalie who administered oxygen to a hawk that had stopped breathing mid-transport.

It was Olivia who guided a blinded owl by touch alone.

When the last trailer rolled through the western gate and onto the road, the fire was less than ten yards behind them. They didn’t look back.

Now, standing at the edge of that devastation, Natalie stared out at the scorched remains of what had once been the raptor flight zone. Her boots crunched over brittle debris, and her hands trembled from exhaustion, though she hadn’t slowed since sunrise .

Behind her, a chorus of voices rose from the sanctuary grounds, volunteers and neighbors who had arrived before dawn to help. Some brought shovels, others wheelbarrows and chainsaws. Some brought casseroles and coffee. The community had come. And they had come in force.

And yet, even in the quiet buzz of rebuilding, there was a current of something else, of tension and unfinished conversations.

The fire had scorched the land while history had exposed wounds.

The revelation about Mason being Davey’s father still hung over them like an unspoken storm cloud.

The fire had forced them to act, to respond, to focus on survival.

But now, in the moments between hammer strikes and wheelbarrows rolling past, it resurfaced.

Natalie had spent the night after the evacuation in a borrowed cot at the community center, sleepless and staring at the ceiling.

Mason had been across the room, curled in a blanket, eyes closed but she could tell he was awake.

In the dim light, she had studied his face and wondered if trust could ever grow again in the burned place where love had once sparked.

Olivia, meanwhile, had tried to keep herself busy. But every time she looked at Davey, who avoided her gaze, it was like a knife turning in her chest. She knew she had been wrong not to tell him. She knew she had given him reason not to trust her.

Davey moved like a man possessed, hauling crates of supplies, clearing branches, running between teams with a kind of rigid determination that masked the turmoil inside him.

He hadn’t forgiven. Not yet. But he had shown up.

That was something. And yet, beneath it all, questions burned.

Would the fire be enough to melt the walls they'd built between them? Or would it only harden them further?

Mason arrived mid-morning from the northern trail. His arm was bandaged, his clothes soot-stained, but his eyes were sharp. He nodded at Olivia in passing. Their exchange was brief, an acknowledgment without words.

When he spotted Natalie near the wreckage of the fence, he hesitated. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night before. But as if sensing him, she turned.

Their eyes met. She didn’t smile. But she didn’t look away either.

"We need to start with the eastern quadrant," she said, her voice rough.

He stepped forward. "I’ll take the lower posts. You direct the rebuild."

It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was a beginning.

By midday, a local contractor had arrived with replacement fencing materials.

A group of high school students from a nearby county brought portable generators and hot meals.

A pair of wildlife rehabbers from out of town drove six hours to assist with the more fragile animals.

It was more than they could have hoped for.

In the afternoon, a spontaneous meeting formed beneath the old oak by the visitor center, volunteers, residents, sanctuary staff, and representatives from local conservation groups.

Folding chairs were dragged into a circle.

Olivia, pale and visibly spent, took the center with a blanket around her shoulders.

“This fire could’ve ended everything,” she said. “But instead, it showed us what we can do when we come together.”

There were murmurs of agreement. A few heads bowed. Some wiped tears from smoke-rimmed eyes.

Natalie stepped forward next. “We won’t rebuild what we had. We’ll build something better. Stronger. A sanctuary that reflects what we’ve learned and who we are now. We’ve seen how fast everything can change. Let’s make this place one that endures. ”

Applause followed. Quiet, respectful. But it built. As the meeting broke apart into smaller conversations and task groups, Davey stood on the edge of the crowd, watching. His hands were clenched at his sides, not with anger anymore but with uncertainty.

Then Mason approached him. Not close. Just enough.

“I don’t expect you to forgive your Mom quickly,” he said. “But just so you know, this time I’m not going anywhere.”

Davey looked at him, his expression unreadable. “I’m glad,” he said at last. Then turned back to work.

Despite the hopeful tone of the afternoon meeting, the air between Mason, Natalie, and Olivia remained brittle, like cracked glass ready to shatter with the wrong word.

Later that day, as the sun dipped low and cast long gold slants across the ruined grounds, Natalie stood alone by the supply tent, arms folded tightly around herself.

She’d thrown herself into rebuilding efforts, moving with relentless focus.

But when she paused, even for a breath, the weight of what had changed settled over her again.

Her hands were raw from hauling lumber. Her throat ached from smoke and unspoken words.

But it wasn’t the fire damage she couldn’t shake.

It was the silence between her and Mason.

The way his voice had sounded when he called her name.

The way Olivia had looked at her, ashamed but unrepentant.

The world had been shifted by the truth.

Mason approached from the west trail, hesitant. His footsteps slowed when he saw her, and for a long moment he didn’t speak. The wind stirred ash in little eddies at his feet, like ghosts circling him.

“You’ve been working nonstop,” he finally said, gently.

“I can’t sleep,” she replied, her voice low.

He nodded. "Neither can I."

Natalie turned toward him then, eyes ringed with exhaustion and something else, something more fragile. Her gaze flickered to the bandage still wrapped around his arm.

“Mason, I don’t know what to think. What we were before the fire, before the truth... it’s rocked me."

He stepped closer, but she took a half step back, folding her arms tighter. Her body was a wall, solid and closed.

“I love you,” he said. “That hasn’t changed.”

She shook her head. “But it has. You kept something from me, something that changes everything. Every conversation, every quiet moment we shared... you knew the whole time that you’d slept with Olivia.”

“I swear, I didn’t think about it once, not in all the years since I came back and especially not while I was with you. Why would I?”

Natalie’s voice cracked, her words barely above a whisper. “I need to believe that’s true.”

She paused, eyes swimming with emotion, and her voice dropped again. “You know what hurts the most? My husband cheated on me, Mason. He looked me in the eyes for months and made me believe I was the only one, when he had someone else waiting in the shadows.”

Mason’s face fell. “I’m not him.”

“No,” she said sharply. “But the betrayal feels the same. I opened myself to you, after everything.”

He looked down. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Then you should’ve trusted me. You should’ve told me the truth before it was too late. And so should Olivia.”