The luminook made a trilling sound, almost like a purr, as it nuzzled Ruugar’s arm. The children gasped when the spines along its back glowed brighter in response to his attention.
“These are some of the first luminooks to come to the surface,” Dungar said from beside me. “Ruugar has been raising this twinkle since they arrived.”
“Twinkle?”
“Pack, I guess you’d call it. Chumbles have crumbles, and luminooks have twinkles.”
“That’s wonderful.” I couldn’t hold back my grin. “It’s possibly the most adorable name for a group of animals I’ve ever heard.”
Ruugar carefully placed the luminook in a small enclosure where three others of varying sizes huddled together. The largest, presumably the mother or father, had spines that glowed a soft lavender, while the smallest emitted barely there pulses of blue light.
“They communicate through their humming and the intensity of their glow,” Dungar said. “Each patternmeans something different, from contentment to a warning, to a greeting.”
“Luminooks form lifelong bonds with their families,” Ruugar said. “They never leave a member behind, even if it means facing danger together.”
The adult luminook nudged the smallest one, and the tiny creature stood on its hind legs, its spines brightening before it ducked back behind the bigger one.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the creatures. Their gentle movements and the soft, melodic humming had a hypnotic quality I adored.
“They’re beautiful,” I breathed. “Like something from a fairy tale.”
Dungar’s expression softened as he watched me. “Our mothers told us they guide lost children home. Their light keeps darkness away.”
His words resonated deep inside me. I’d been lost for so long, stumbling through darkness, always looking over my shoulder. The thought of a gentle light guiding me to safety made my throat tighten with feelings I couldn’t describe.
“What happens ifyouget separated from your twinkle?” I asked.
“My family will find me. No matter how far I wander, their light will call me home.”
The intensity in his gaze made me look away first. There was too much promise there, too much certainty. I’d learned the hard way that promises were easily broken when the world turned cruel.
Ruugar cleared his throat. “And that’s it for myluminook presentation today. Remember, these creatures are nocturnal, so they’re only now waking up. Tonight’s guided twilight tour at eight will show them when they’re most active.”
As the crowd dispersed, I lingered at the fence, watching the adult luminook gather the babies close, their spines glowing as they communicated in their silent language.
A family. A twinkle that stayed together no matter what. Something I’d never have again. The thought wrenched through me, leaving me both sad and, strangely enough, with hope blooming deep inside me.
We continued our patrol as the afternoon crowds began to thin, some entering the restaurant, others the saloon. Dungar pointed out the emergency exits in the buildings camouflaged to look like part of the Wild West scenery, and the modern fire suppression system cleverly hidden behind authentic-looking woodwork.
“Safety first,” he said. “The illusion is important, but not at the expense of?—”
A woman’s panicked voice cut through the cheerful afternoon noise. “Marcy? Marcy!”
Dungar’s head snapped up, his body alert. He moved toward the sound, and I followed close behind.
A woman in her thirties, clutching a stuffed sorhox toy and a paper cone of popcorn, spun in circles near the luminook enclosure.
We stopped beside her.
“Have you seen my daughter?” she asked. “She’s six, wearing a pale blue grannie gown and a matchingbonnet. Brown hair in a braid halfway down her back. About this high.” She made a chopping motion at belly height. “Blue eyes.”
“I’m Sheriff Bronish and this is Deputy Smith,” Dungar said. “When did you last see her?”
“She was watching the luminooks with the other children. She was right beside me. I only looked away for a second to pay for our snack.”
I peered around, but I didn’t see a child matching the description.
Where was Marcy?
