What the Fire Couldn’t Touch

In early January this year, in the blackened wake of the devastating Longwood bushfire, on this day we rescued seven smoke-darkened sheep. Their bodies bore the terrible cost of survival many of their friends did not make. With scorched hooves, singed ears and body parts their eyes still searched for danger long after the flames had passed. We named them all starting with the letters Ph, a gentle nod to the mythical Phoenix who rose from the ashes.

Among them was Phiona.

For months, we watched Phiona and her family slowly unpack their trauma and find their way back to the world. We watched the tension ease from their frames as safety, patience and steady sanctuary routines began to heal what the fire had broken. We thought we were simply witnessing the slow return of health.

We had no idea Phiona was carrying a secret.

Yesterday, that secret unfolded when we were greeted with the birth of a very special little someone. Against every imaginable statistic, through the heat of a fireball that took so much from so many, Phiona had been shielding a tiny spark of the future.

We named her Phortune.

To see Phortune standing strong on her perfect, unblemished, fuzzy legs, nudging her mumma for milk, is to look directly at the triumph of life. Her arrival reminds us that while the fire touched their bodies and etched deep scars across their world, it could never touch the indomitable will to live.

Phiona carried her daughter through the darkest days of her life so that Phortune could be born into the light of a safe tomorrow. She is hope made tangible.

Our world can be devastatingly fragile, but as little Phortune takes her very first steps beneath the winter sanctuary sun, it is impossible not to marvel at all she represents. A bushfire burned through her world before she ever drew breath.

And still, here she stands.