As the sun set, casting a spectacular display of deep orange and purple across the sky, we congregated around a lively bonfire. The heart of our small community throbbed with renewed vigour, fuelled by the recent acquisition of camping gear and power generators. The air was suffused with the comforting aroma of a hearty chilli simmering in a large cauldron over the fire, its scent of tender beef and beans in a rich tomato sauce blending harmoniously with the rustic charm of crusty bread nestled in a woven basket. This simple yet satisfying meal added an unexpected touch of homeliness to our otherwise rugged existence.

The mood around the fire was jovial, filled with light-hearted banter and laughter, yet underscored by a collective understanding of the perils that lurked just outside the illuminated perimeter of our camp. Despite the convivial atmosphere, there was an unspoken vigilance among us, a recognition of the unknown dangers that prowled in the darkness beyond our small enclave of light and warmth.

The arrival of Kain, with Henri cradled gently in his arms, further brightened the evening's atmosphere. He carefully set Henri down before cautiously making his way to the bonfire, his demeanour more relaxed than I'd seen in recent days.

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of contentment seeing the communal spirit uplift everyone, including myself. I handed Kain a bowl brimming with my homemade chilli con carne, greeting him with a warm, sincere smile. "Thanks, Paul," he responded, his smile genuine but tinged with a hint of weariness. "Looks delicious.”

“It’s my specialty. Enjoy!” I said, my pride evident. The steam from the bowl rose up, warming my face in the cool evening air.

As Kain settled into his meal, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to introduce him to Grant and Sarah Ironbach. I threaded my way through the conversation carefully, mindful to steer clear of any reference to their unexpected permanence in Clivilius. Inwardly, I harboured a silent hope that this delicate subject would remain untouched, at least for the evening.

To my quiet relief, Kain appeared genuinely interested in engaging with the Ironbachs. It was a refreshing change to see him so animated. Watching him delve into a spirited discussion with them seemed to momentarily lift the burdens of his injury and our collective predicament from his shoulders. It was as if the act of conversing about something as normal as wildlife and sanctuary projects allowed him a brief respite from the harsh realities of Clivilius.

Feeling reassured that Kain was comfortably blending into the evening's social tapestry, I excused myself from the group. As I stepped away, I couldn’t resist a backward glance at the gathering. The flickering firelight bathed everyone’s faces in a warm, golden hue, transforming the scene into something almost magical. The sounds of laughter and ongoing conversations wove a tapestry of normalcy, a poignant contrast to the extraordinary circumstances we found ourselves in.

In that moment, I felt a deep connection to everyone at Bixbus. We were more than just a group of people stranded in an alien world; we were a community, growing stronger and more resilient together. And as I walked away from the bonfire, the comforting sounds of camaraderie and the sight of Kain's easy interaction with the Ironbach’s stayed with me, reinforcing my belief that despite the challenges, we actually stood a chance of survival.

As the evening at Bixbus gently ebbed away and the last of the chilli was scooped from the pot, our small gathering started to thin out. Some of my companions retreated to the sanctuary of their caravans, while others, bundled up in layers against the cool night air, remained seated around the now subdued bonfire, their conversations a soft hum in the background.

Kain, with Henri tagging along, had already retired to his caravan. I found myself lingering with Grant and Sarah, discussing their visions and plans for the wildlife sanctuary. Grant's announcement of its proposed name, "The Bixbus Wildlife Sanctuary," struck a chord in me. "I really like the sound of that," I said, my voice tinged with genuine admiration. The name was a simple one, yet also seemed to encapsulate our collective spirit and the new beginnings we were striving for.

Our conversation, however, was soon interrupted by Beatrix's confident approach. Her arrival had a way of commanding attention, her presence unmistakable in the dwindling light.

“Grant,” she greeted, extending a hand towards him. I instinctively stepped back, giving Grant space to step forward and shake her hand. His green eyes lit up with a spark of recognition, holding her hand in a firm grasp. “It’s been a while,” he remarked, his voice laced with a familiar undertone.

I watched their exchange with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. The interconnectedness of people from Hobart, the way paths crossed and recrossed, never failed to astonish me.

“Perhaps a little too long,” Beatrix replied, her tone maintaining a careful neutrality as she smoothly withdrew her hand and stepped back.

Grant then gestured towards Sarah. “You’ve met my sister, Sarah, haven’t you?”

“I have,” Beatrix affirmed, her gaze sweeping over Sarah in a manner that left no ambiguity about their previous acquaintance.

Sarah responded with a warm smile. “Thank you for having the wildlife sanctuary added to the list of supported charities,” she expressed, her gratitude clear in her voice.

I watched the exchange, feeling slightly out of my depth as the conversation veered into territory I wasn’t familiar with. Their connections and the intricate web of relationships intrigued me.

Grant nudged Beatrix’s arm lightly. “Charlie Claiborne’s charity event at MONA,” he reminded her. “I’m curious how you managed that one.”

I bit back a chuckle, knowing all too well the unconventional methods Beatrix could employ to get things done. I silently communicated to Grant, You really don’t want to know how Beatrix gets things done.

Beatrix’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red, a rare show of embarrassment at the memory. “It was nothing,” she dismissed quickly, her usual composure slipping momentarily as she attempted to downplay her involvement.

But then, Beatrix, ever the direct one, changed the subject. “So, what brings the two of you to this barren place?” Her question, blunt and to the point, made me wince internally.

I shot her a sharp glance, a silent warning. I’d spent the entire day carefully navigating around the true permanence of Grant and Sarah’s stay in Clivilius, and Beatrix's straightforward inquiry threatened to tear through the delicate veil of omission I had maintained.

Sarah, unaware of the delicate balance of our situation, responded simply, “Work.” Her answer, innocent as it was, added a new layer of complexity to the conversation. I could feel a knot of tension building in my stomach.

And then, to my growing concern, Grant elaborated. “In short, we’ve agreed to do an initial assessment of the place and provide recommendations on how a wildlife sanctuary can be established here.”

“You have?” Beatrix's voice betrayed her surprise and curiosity. The conversation was teetering dangerously close to revealing too much.

Sarah, still oblivious to the charged atmosphere, casually greeted Karen, who had just joined us. “We’re only here for a week or two,” she said, her words echoing the very sentiment that caused my heart to drop.

Beatrix’s expression changed to one of alarm. “And after that?” she pressed, her question sharp and probing, like a hammer poised to shatter the fragile façade we had built.

I felt a surge of panic, wanting desperately to divert the conversation, but words failed me.

Grant seemed unaware of the tension that had spiked. “Bonorong won’t manage itself forever,” he remarked casually.

Beatrix shot me a wide-eyed look that conveyed a whole conversation’s worth of concern and disbelief. I chuckled nervously, my mind racing to find a way out of this precariously unfolding scenario.

I barely caught Beatrix’s whispered “Shit,” as she realised the gravity of the situation.

Seizing the moment as Grant got involved in the chat with Sarah and Karen, I quickly ushered Beatrix away from the group, my expression serious. “Beatrix, I have another mission for you,” I said in a low tone, hoping the mention of a new task would distract her from the brewing storm of revelations.

“What, besides keeping from Grant and Sarah the fact that they won’t be going back to Bonorong!?” Her voice was a sharp whisper, tinged with frustration and disbelief. “Or can they?” There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes, searching for any possibility of a different outcome.

I responded with a subtle shake of my head and a silent, firm “No.” The gravity of our reality hung heavily between us.

Her face drained of colour, reflecting the magnitude of the revelation. I quickly redirected the conversation to the original reason for pulling her aside. “My dog, Charlie, is currently in Broken Hill with my wife and kids,” I began, my tone softening with a hint of longing. “I miss her dearly and I know she’d love it here.”

Beatrix’s reaction was immediate and incredulous. “Hang on a second,” she interjected, her eyebrows knitting in disbelief. “We’ve only just dealt with Duke’s death yesterday, and you already want to bring another dog to this god-forsaken place?”

Her blunt honesty hit hard, resonating with the harsh truth of our situation. “She’ll make a great early warning system,” I ventured, attempting to inject a bit of light-heartedness into our grim conversation.

“You’re unbelievable,” she shot back, her expression one of exasperation. “Not only do you want me to bring another animal here, but you want me to dognap her!”

Her words echoed my own inner turmoil, knowing how outlandish my request was. “I know it sounds crazy, but…” I began, my voice tinged with desperation.

But Beatrix interrupted, her voice growing louder and more animated. “Yeah, you’re right! It is crazy!”

I looked at her, my eyes imploring, a mix of hope and guilt swirling within me. “Please, Beatrix,” I pleaded. “Claire isn’t very good with pets.”

For a moment, Beatrix seemed lost in thought, her gaze drifting off as if considering the myriad complexities of our situation. Then, with a resigned sigh, she relented. “Fine,” she huffed, her agreement reluctant yet unmistakable.

Relief washed over me, mixed with a twinge of guilt for the burden I was placing on her. But as I watched Beatrix walk away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation at the thought of being reunited with Charlie.