Physically.
As if he understood what she was about to do and refused to let it happen.
I remember lowering the letter slightly at that point, blinking hard, trying to reconcile the image in my head with the reality in front of me. A wild, damaged animal saving a human life. It didn’t fit into any framework I had ever relied on.
But she believed it.
That much was clear.
The rest of the letter unfolded in a way that felt almost too fragile to hold. She had fallen in love, she wrote. His name was Caleb. He was one of the men I had just accused of kidnapping. He had been kind to her in a way that didn’t feel overwhelming or forced, just steady and present.
They had planned a life.
A simple one.
And then he was gone.
A wildfire. An attempt to save people he didn’t know. A loss that felt almost cruel in its timing.
