Not long ago, from the safety of my new caravan home, I had heard the commotion of the arrival of another two settlers. Unable to deal with the event, I had kept my distance. There had been plenty of raised voices. But the aromas of fresh cooked chilli and warm bread that wafted through the small open window were turning my stomach on itself, and I realised that I still hadn't eaten all day. I was feeling beyond famished at this point, and I knew that if I kept up my stubbornness to engage with the other settlers, I would fade into nothingness by morning.
"I guess you're hungry too?" I said to Henri, ruffling his furry head. His small, eager eyes met mine, and he wagged his tail in response. "Come on then, let's feed you."
Henri jumped off the bed, his excitement evident. I reached into the bottom cupboard and found a tin of dog food. As I pulled the lid open, the rich aroma of chunky meat and vegetables smothered in gravy filled the air. "Even this smells appetising," I chuckled, scooping spoonfuls of the hearty meal into Henri's food bowl. "I must be starving," I muttered, catching myself before I licked the small dollop of gravy that sat at the end of my pinky.
Within minutes, Henri devoured his small feast, his tail wagging happily. I knew he didn't enjoy socialising with groups of people or other dogs, but I was determined that it was time for him to get used to it. Every time Uncle Jamie brought Duke and Hudson over to the Manor when he visited Mum, Duke was always excited to play with Hudson. Henri, on the other hand, would content himself with stealing scraps from the kitchen before finding a secluded spot to hide until the visit was over.
"I know you don't like it," I said, carrying Henri as we left the caravan. "But you can't stay in your bed all day anymore."
Setting Henri down, I approached the campfire cautiously, hoping that the tension from the arrival of the new people had calmed down. Paul, full of energy and optimism, was quick to greet me, shoving a bowlful of chilli con carne into my hands. The hearty aroma filled my nostrils, and my mouth watered at the sight of the steaming meal.
"Thanks, Paul," I said, mustering a smile. "Looks delicious."
He beamed. "It's my specialty. Enjoy!"
As I savoured the warm and comforting flavours, Paul introduced me to the newcomers, Grant Ironbach and his sister, Sarah. Grant, the Director of the Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary in Hobart, and Sarah, who also worked at the sanctuary, had an air of warmth and genuine kindness about them. Instantly, I found myself liking them.
Paul wandered off as the conversation continued, and I couldn't help but be intrigued by Grant and Sarah's unique personalities, woven with their shared passion for wildlife. Grant exuded an aura of determination and adventure, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of exploring untamed wilderness.
"I've heard about your work at the sanctuary," I said, my curiosity getting the better of me. "It must be incredible to work with such fascinating creatures."
Grant's face lit up with a genuine smile. "It truly is a dream come true," he replied. "From the majestic Tasmanian devils to the endangered quolls and unique bird species, every day brings new wonders. But it's not just about the animals; it's about creating a balance between conservation and education, so future generations can appreciate and protect these beautiful creatures."
Sarah, with her infectious enthusiasm, chimed in, "And the rewards are immeasurable. Like the time we rehabilitated a Tasmanian devil with a broken jaw. It took a lot of patience and teamwork, but seeing her released back into the wild was incredibly fulfilling."
Their dedication and unwavering commitment to the animals shone through their words, and it was evident that their work extended far beyond their professional roles. Grant's love for adventure and outdoor exploration mirrored the untamed spirit of Clivilius itself, while Sarah's artistic nature and her songwriting showcased her deep connection with nature.
"I have to admit," I confessed, "I envy your passion and the impact you're making. It's inspiring."
Grant's eyes sparkled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "We believe that everyone can contribute to the well-being of our planet in their own way. It's not just about grand gestures but also the small steps we take each day."
Sarah nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. Whether it's raising awareness or making sustainable choices, we all have a role to play. And it's incredible to witness the positive changes that can come from collective efforts."
Their words resonated within me, planting a seed of inspiration. However, as the relatively normal conversation continued, a knot began to form in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't put the pieces together, but something was definitely off.
The tension in the campfire's atmosphere lingered, an unspoken unease that contradicted the cheerful facade. I glanced around, observing the expressions on the faces of my fellow settlers. Some wore forced smiles, while others exchanged quick glances, their eyes filled with unspoken worry.
As the fire crackled and sparks danced into the night sky, my mind raced with questions. Why were Grant and Sarah so optimistic despite the dangers and hardships we faced? What had they experienced that gave them such unwavering hope? The answers eluded me, but deep down, I knew that there was more to their arrival than met the eye. I made a silent vow to keep my guard up and listen closely to the secrets whispered between the lines. Clivilius was a place of mystery and danger, and it seemed that the arrival of Grant and Sarah was about to unravel another layer of its puzzle.
As the sun began its descent, casting an orange glow over the camp, I noticed Henri lying alone, away from the lively campfire and the company of other dogs. He seemed content in his solitude, finding solace in the quiet corners of camp. The air was thick with an undercurrent of mystery and unease, whispering secrets that danced just beyond our reach.
"Looks like you've had enough of the commotion too, huh?" I murmured to Henri, gathering him in my arms. He nestled against my chest, his small body warm and comforting, providing a fleeting respite from the strange world that enveloped us.
Henri and I sought refuge in the sanctuary of my caravan, seeking solace from the bustling camp. The worn and tired ache in my leg throbbed, a constant reminder of the trials we faced. The caravan, a haven amidst the uncertainty, offered a momentary respite from the unknown. A pang of guilt tinged my thoughts as I closed the door, knowing that some of our fellow settlers would remain sleeping in tents tonight. But Paul's insistence on maintaining a semblance of normalcy, his unwavering belief in the power of routine, compelled me to find solace in the comfort that this small space provided. Beatrix's promise of additional caravans in the days to come echoed in my mind, a glimmer of hope amidst the tangled webs we found ourselves entwined in. I reassured myself, reminding my weary spirit that others had found their own sanctuary within the metal walls. Karen, Chris, and Nial had already claimed their own refuge, while Glenda, Joel, and Uncle Jamie were yet to return. Only Paul and the new arrivals, Grant and Sarah, remained without caravans.
In the dim light of the caravan's interior, I prepared to settle in for the night. The soft glow of the lamp above the bed illuminated the space, casting a warm ambiance upon the worn fabric and aged wood. I stood, my hand poised to switch off the light, when a sudden, unexpected knock broke the fragile calm.
Curiosity ignited within me as I opened the door to find Paul standing there, weariness etched upon his face, mingling with a hint of concern.
"Kain, I need to talk to you," Paul's voice carried a weight, laden with concern that sent a shiver down my spine.
I motioned for him to enter, and he stepped into the caravan, shutting the door behind him. The confined space felt smaller as his eyes darted around, ensuring we were shielded from prying ears.
"What's going on, Paul?" I asked, my curiosity interlaced with a growing unease, as though the air itself crackled with hidden truths.
Paul's breath caught, his voice lowering to a hushed tone. "Kain, there's something you need to know about Grant and Sarah."
My heart skipped a beat, a foreboding chill coursing through my veins. "What about them?"
He exhaled heavily, a mixture of anger and empathy colouring his words. "They've been deceived, just like the rest of us. Luke tricked them into coming here, making them believe that they were only here to assess the possibility of establishing a wildlife sanctuary in Clivilius. They have no idea that once they stepped through the Portal, they would be cut off from Earth forever."
Shock reverberated through me, the weight of the revelation crashing upon my shoulders. Grant and Sarah, beacons of hope and untarnished optimism, were now ensnared in Luke's web of deceit. They had unwittingly embarked on a one-way journey to Clivilius, severed from the life they once knew, trapped within the enigmatic embrace of this mysterious realm.
"But why would Luke do that? Why would he trick them?" I asked, the questions tumbling out, tinged with an undercurrent of despair. The memory of my own forced arrival, Luke's violent shove through the Portal, resurfaced, sending tremors through my core, threatening to unravel the fragile composure I had fought so hard to maintain.
Paul sighed, his eyes reflecting a somber blend of sorrow and determination. "I don't have all the answers, Kain. But I suspect Luke has his own motives, his own plans for Clivilius. And Grant and Sarah, along with the rest of us, are caught in the middle of it."
Conflicting emotions surged within me, a tempest of empathy for Grant and Sarah's unwitting entrapment mingling with the weight of a heightened peril. Even those who radiated trust could harbour hidden agendas, their true intentions masked beneath layers of deception.
As Paul concluded his revelation, a kaleidoscope of thoughts whirled within me. Grant and Sarah, their infectious optimism and hope, held the potential to be a beacon of salvation, a key to unlocking the path that would reunite Brianne with us in Clivilius. But caution gripped my heart, urging me to remain vigilant, to peel back the layers of their optimism and uncover the truths that lay beneath.
Paul's words echoed in the recesses of my mind, a constant reminder of the delicate equilibrium we teetered upon in this intricate realm. I glanced at the outside light, the symbol of our shared vigilance, and a newfound determination coursed through me. "I'll keep the light on, Paul," I declared, my voice resolute. "We need all the light we can get, both metaphorically and literally. We must navigate the shadows that encroach upon our path, protecting what matters most."
Paul nodded, a flicker of hope illuminating his weary eyes. "We will, Kain. We'll find a way. Together."
With those words, we parted ways, each retreating into our own thoughts, the darkness of the night descending upon us. Within the confines of Clivilius, where the mysteries whispered and shadows danced, a journey of revelation and trepidation unfolded before us, bound by the unyielding resolve to unravel the enigma that threatened our very existence.
