The Fence Between Us: A crisis at the sanctuary forces Jax to step out of his comfort zone and reveal his true capabilities.

The fence, Jax decided, was a rather rude invention. Not the sturdy, weather-beaten kind that kept the wallabies from wandering into the emus’ breakfast buffet, no. He meant the invisible fence, the one that kept him a safe distance from everyone and everything else. It was a fence he’d built himself, brick by wobbly brick, over years of… well, over years. And now, standing in the middle of a dusty paddock, a bottle of warm milk clutched in his calloused hand, he felt the first few cracks appearing in its formidable structure.

Pip, the little kangaroo with eyes like startled blueberries, was currently attempting to drink milk from the bottle with his nose. It was a valiant effort, full of snorts and dribbles, but Pip’s tongue seemed to have a personal vendetta against the teat. Jax, who’d initially approached the joey with all the delicate tenderness of a falling anvil, found himself sighing, not in exasperation, but in a soft, rumbling sound that surprised even him. He knelt, the worn denim of his jeans scraping against the sun-baked earth.

“Come on, little fella,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper. “It’s not rocket science. Just… suck.” He gently nudged Pip’s head closer to the teat, his tattooed fingers, usually so adept at wielding a wrench or a paint roller, now moving with an uncharacteristic lightness. Pip, sensing the shift, stopped his nose-diving antics and, with a tentative wiggle of his tiny nose, latched onto the teat. A tiny, contented sigh escaped the joey, and Jax felt an answering warmth spread through his chest, a feeling as unfamiliar and welcome as a cool breeze on a sweltering day.