4338.210 · July 29, 2018 AD
The Sanctuary She Didn't Build
They arrive smiling. They don't know they can't leave. Karen does. Paul hands her folders thick with plans—a wildlife sanctuary spanning two worlds, species reborn in alien soil, conservation without borders. She reads until the vision isn't theirs anymore. It's hers. But when she wakes from an unplanned sleep, the moment she'd meant to guide has already happened without her. Sometimes the best thing you can offer isn't direction. It's trust.
Grant and Sarah Ironbach step into camp like visitors expecting to leave. They don't know what Karen knows: the Portal doesn't work both ways. Paul warns her to keep the secret. Then he hands her the folders.
Inside is a vision that takes her breath away. A wildlife sanctuary designed not just for Earth's endangered species, but for the unknown creatures of Clivilius. Phased introductions. Modular habitats. Breeding programmes and genetic research. Education centres and eco-lodges. Inter-world conservation—stewardship stretched across dimensions.
Karen reads until the light shifts, until the river's murmur fades into white noise, until the dream on those pages becomes indistinguishable from her own. She lies in the dust, overwhelmed, transformed.
And then she wakes. Late afternoon. The window she'd planned has closed.
She hurries back to find Grant and Sarah already laughing by the fire, folded into the group without her help. The introduction she'd meant to shape happened on its own.
Karen doesn't interrupt. She deposits the folders in her caravan. Returns to the fire empty-handed. Sits. Breathes.
Some moments don't need steering. They just need someone willing to show up after.
