10
The sanctuary had never felt quieter. Natalie stood by the edge of the barn, watching the frost dissipate under the slow rise of the morning sun. Fog clung to the tips of the pine trees like breath held in a hush. Birds called in cautious bursts, and beneath the surface of stillness was a tension so taut, she could feel it pressing between her ribs.
Today was the town hall meeting. The past week had been a whirlwind. Posters printed, volunteers rallied. Olivia had orchestrated everything from her recovery chair in the lodge, her voice somehow even stronger now than before her fall. Davey had stepped into his new responsibilities with surprising maturity, coordinating trail cleanup with the younger staff, drafting letters to supporters.
And Mason. He had worked quietly but relentlessly. Fixing gates, preparing animal release records, helping install new signs for the sanctuary trails. But more than that, he stayed close, close enough that Natalie felt his presence whether he was in the room or not. Every time she turned around, there was something he’d anticipated. A cup of tea. A charged phone. Aglance that said I believe in you, even if you don’t believe in yourself just yet.
Now, as they loaded presentation boards and printed reports into the truck, Mason stood beside her, his hands in his coat pockets, watching the town line rise in the distance.
"Just remember you’re not alone up there. Maybe in body but not in spirit because everyone back at the sanctuary will be thinking of you, " he said.
Natalie looked up at him. "I don’t want to let anyone down."
He gave a small nod. "We all know that, and you won’t."
She hesitated for a moment, his words catching her. "Thank you for always being there. I notice it. Even when I don't say anything."
Mason's voice softened. "I don’t expect thanks. I just... I see how much you care. It matters. That kind of heart, it's rare."
Natalie blinked against the sudden sting of tears. "Sometimes I wonder if we all care too hard."
"We care exactly right," Mason said. He stepped closer, enough that their shoulders brushed. "And that’s what they need to see."
They arrived in Cedar Hill just before noon. The town center, usually sleepy and slow-moving, was unusually crowded. Cars lined the small lot outside the community hall. Signs flapped against fences. Some neutral, a few supportive. And some not.
Natalie spotted one nailed to a telephone pole across the street: "WILD DOESN’T MEAN SAFE."
Her stomach flipped. Mason saw it too but didn’t say a word. He gently placed a hand at the small of her back as they walked toward the building. The contact lasted only a moment, but it steadied her. Inside, the hall buzzed with noise. Folding chairs placed in neat rows. A long table at the front with council nameplates. Olivia had arranged for a slideshow to loop behindthe podium, images of fox kits being bottle-fed, of owls spreading their wings in preparation for release, of children on school field trips watching in awe as a rehabilitated hawk soared into the blue.
Natalie swallowed the tightness in her throat. She had seen every image a dozen times. But standing here, they took on new meaning. She found her place at the speaker table, flanked by three council members, two unreadable, one clearly skeptical. Carson Bell sat at the end, his sharp suit a jarring contrast to the town’s usual flannels and canvas jackets. His smile was thin. Calculated.
The chairman called for quiet in the room and introduced their first speaker, Natalie. Pushing back her chair and taking her notes, she stepped up to the podium as the room hushed. Her hands didn’t shake. She was surprised by that.
"Good afternoon," she began. Her voice sounded different through the microphone. Larger than she felt. "My name is Dr. Natalie Carrington. I came to the sanctuary as a wildlife vet, but I stayed because it became a home. Not just for me, but for every animal that’s come through our gates, and every person who needed to see that second chances still exist."
She clicked the first slide. A fox kit, nose pink with milk, curled into the palm of a volunteer. "We’re not here to tame predators. We’re here to help injured, orphaned, and displaced animals heal and return to their lives in the wild."
Slide after slide followed. A bear cub released into a national preserve. A raptor lifting off into a winter sky. The pensioner from town who'd come weekly to knit nest warmers for opossum litters.
Natalie turned to face them fully. "We’ve had 164 successful releases in the last two years. We work closely with wildlife biologists, state conservation officers, and veterinarians to ensure best practices. We educate local schools. We host youthprograms. We’re not a threat to balance. We’re part of the effort to restore it and keep it safe for generations to come."
Carson Bell leaned forward. "And what about public safety, Dr. Carrington? What about the sightings of large carnivores within a mile of town property?"
Natalie didn’t flinch. "The animals we release are monitored. None have shown aggressive behavior. Every wildlife agency in the country supports rehabilitation and rewilding efforts like ours. Animals belong in the wild. And we make sure they have the best chance to stay there."
A voice rose from the audience, a woman in her fifties with salt-and-pepper hair. Natalie recognized her as the school principal.
"My daughter volunteered last summer," she said. "She came home every day excited about what she learned. You gave her confidence. You gave her purpose and a greater understanding of nature."
Another voice, then another. A father whose autistic son had found peace during weekly visits to the sanctuary. A volunteer who had rescued a hawk with Mason and described it as life changing.
Still, Carson pressed. "And how do you address the financial instability? Olivia Hayes has been recovering from injury. Your organization has debts. Doesn’t the community deserve to know if this project is sustainable?"
Natalie lifted her chin. "We’re not hiding from our challenges. We’ve launched new fundraising campaigns. We’re building stronger partnerships. And yes, Olivia is recovering and will soon return to her duties but in the meantime while she heals, she’s still leading us, every day. Olivia built the sanctuary from the ground up, it’s her life and reason for being and she wants nothing more than for it to thrive for the benefit of everyone and everything."
There was a pause. Then Natalie added, her voice soft but firm. "When people come to the sanctuary, they aren’t just looking for animals. They’re looking for hope and goodness in a harsh world. For something pure and untouched by politics and fear. You can’t quantify that in profit margins. But it matters. In a society controlled by technology and consumerism, greed and hate, being in touch with nature matters more than ever. To me, everyone at the sanctuary, our children and the birds and animals who live in peace, side by side with humans."
The room was still. She had never felt her like this. Fierce yet composed. Lit from within by the need to protect something that mattered to her. After the applause, Natalie stepped down from the podium, her heart thudding. The chairman asked if there were any more questions, but hands stayed down and instead of angry voices, only mutterings from the audience as they chewed over her words. The chairman indicated to a stack of information sheets that waited on a table by the door and suggested everyone take a copy and familiarize themselves with some facts about the sanctuary. He then closed the meeting, eyes raised as Carson Bell stormed from the stage and towards the door.
