Davey nodded, letting Mason lead him down the trail. But Natalie stayed behind.
She watched them walk away, father and son, bound now by something deeper than blood, something that had been forged in fire and sealed with loss. She adjusted Livvy in her sling, careful not to wake her, then knelt slowly beside the grave. Her knees pressed into the damp earth, her hand settling on the soft mound of soil like she was touching the surface of memory.
She took a breath and began to speak, her voice low and sure. “I’m here,” she whispered.
A single crow called from a tree nearby, and the wind moved through the canopy above, shifting the light like stained glass across the grave.
“I don’t know how to do this without you either,” she said. “The mornings feel wrong. The paths are too quiet. The barn doesn’t creak the same without your boots in it.”
She closed her eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek. “But I’ll keep going,” she said. “Because you asked me to.”
Livvy stirred, a hand curling against Natalie’s chest.
“I’ll look after the animals. Every last one. I’ll give them names, learn their stories. I’ll make sure no creature under this roof is ever alone or unloved. I’ll train the interns, I’ll balance the damn budget. I’ll fight the developers if they come sniffing around again. And I’ll keep the firewood stacked just how you liked it.”
Her voice caught, then steadied.
“I’ll look after Mason too. You knew before I did how deep that love ran. And Davey... I’ll be there for him. He’s finding his way, Liv. He’s stronger than he knows.”
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a thin, leather-bound notebook. Olivia’s field journal. “I’ll read this cover to cover. I’ll teach Livvy what you taught me. About the wild. About how to listen. About how to be brave.”
She brushed her fingers over the soil again.
“You were never meant to stay inside,” she whispered. “You were always wild. I think a part of you belonged to the trees. To the rain. To every animal you saved. You were the sanctuary before it had a name, and you will forever be in my heart.”
She swallowed the ache and pressed her palm to the ground.
“You’re still here,” she said. “In every trail. Every cry. Every heartbeat.”
She stood slowly, careful not to disturb the baby, and looked up through the trees. The sky was blue now, open and wide, and the first leaves were starting to turn, amber, gold, crimson.
Natalie closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
Then she turned and walked back toward the lodge, toward the waiting arms of her family, toward the life they would build now, piece by piece, in the echo of Olivia’s love. And behind her, the forest rustled softly. Alive with the memory of the one who had loved it best.
EPILOGUE
Six months later, the sanctuary pulsed with quiet celebration. Spring had come early, melting the last remnants of snow from the ridgelines and painting the fields in bold strokes of green and gold. Wildflowers dusted the meadows beyond the north trail, the first crocuses peeking shyly from the loam. The barn smelled of cedar shavings and fresh hay, and the wolves howled softly that morning as if offering their blessing.
The clearing near the edge of the forest, the same one where Olivia had once released the red-tailed hawk, the one where they’d made a memorial garden, among larch saplings planted in her honor, had been transformed into something simple and sacred.
Wooden benches lined a narrow aisle carved into the earth, their edges woven with ribbons and dried lavender. A handmade arch stood at the far end, wrapped in pine boughs, mountain laurel, and feathers left by sanctuary birds, shed naturally, collected with reverence. A place made not for grandeur, but for truth.
Inside the small cabin just off the trail, Mason stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. Thetop button was still undone. His hair had been trimmed that morning, though the wind had already mussed it again. Behind him, Davey leaned against the doorframe, his jacket slung over one shoulder. He wore dark gray, the kind that looked better with scuffed boots than polished shoes, and his tie, loosened slightly, matched the sage green Olivia had once loved.
They caught eyes in the mirror.
“You look nervous,” Davey said, grinning.
“I’m not,” Mason replied, though his fingers fumbled with the button again.
Davey stepped forward and helped him, his hands sure. Mason caught his gaze, suddenly still.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
Davey nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
He looked around the room, sunlight streaming through the open window, the hush of birdsong outside, and then back at his father.
