“No, she was regular people color.” She frowned. “I think. She was wearing a mask.” She gestured wildly with her hands. “And her shirt was pink, and she was wearing pink pants. But I was super sneaky, and she didn’t see me take the baby and run.”
Ava continued snapping photos as we walked, capturing Marcy’s animated storytelling and the way the fading light caught the luminook’s gentle glow in my arms. “This is going to make a wonderful blog post. Little girl saves magical creature from imaginary villain. Pure gold.”
The jailhouse was buzzing with activity when we returned, searchers waiting and Lauren Phillips pacing out front. The moment she spotted us, she leaped off the boardwalk and raced over to us.
“Marcy.” Her voice cracked as Dungar carefully lowered her daughter to the ground. She dropped to her knees, pulling the little girl into a fierce hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you scared Mommy so much.”
“I’m sorry. But I had to save him.” Marcy gestured to the luminook still cradled in my arms.
Lauren’s eyes filled with tears as she looked our way. “Thank you both. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“No need,” Dungar said gruffly. “We’re just glad she’s safe.”
Ava joined us and the two women introduced themselves.
“I’m a photographer,” Ava said. “And I happened to capture some beautiful images of your daughter with the luminook, plus the rescue. Would you be interested in seeing them? I’d love your permission to share the story. It’s quite magical.”
Lauren glanced between us.
“She’s been professional and respectful,” I said. “And she’s agreed to blur faces for privacy.”
“The photos really are stunning.” Ava showed Lauren the camera’s display screen. “I can send you copies and give you final approval before anything goes public.”
Lauren’s expression softened as she scrolled through the images of Marcy glowing in the luminook’s light, the tender way Dungar had lifted her onto his shoulders, and the wonder on her daughter’s face.
“These are beautiful. Yes, you have my permission.” Lauren handed over her contact information.
“I’ll send links to all of you once the story goes live,” Ava said, tucking her camera into her bag.
After the photographer left, Marcy started telling her story about how she’d rescued the luminook.
Lauren shook her head as she looked our way. “Marcy has quite the imagination, don’t you, sweetie? She’s always creating elaborate adventure stories. Last week, she tried to convince her teacher that our mailman was a secret agent.”
“He is, Mommy,” Marcy said with a yawn. “He wears pink too.”
“I see.” Lauren’s sparkling eyes met mine. “Lots of pink going around.”
“It’s true.” Marcy’s lower lip trembled.
“If you say so. She’s been obsessed with rescue stories lately.” Lauren stroked Marcy’s hair as the child leaned against her side.
As word spread that Marcy had been found safe, the searchers began dispersing, clapping Dungar and I on the back and offering their congratulations. The crisis that had mobilized half the town was officially over.
Lauren and Marcy left, Lauren promising to leave an amazing review for Lonesome Creek online.
“We should get this little guy back to his family.” Dungar nodded toward the luminook in my arms. The tiny creature had fallen asleep before we started walking, and carrying him for even such a short time had convinced me I should get a kitten once I’d found a home where I felt safe.
Did they have kittens in Lonesome Creek?
I shouldn’t be thinking about this place as home, of Dungar as…
I nipped the thought off before it had the chance to bloom. He was my boss. He was being friendly. I doubted he’d ever look at me the way his brothers looked at their mates.
We walked along the boardwalk and left it at the end, passing the Pottery Barn and a few pastures holding placid-appearing sorhoxes. I wanted to get close to oneof them soon, but I was sure there’d be time. I wasn’t going anywhere for a bit.
The pens housing the luminook families sat beyond the barn housing the rodeo, and I could see them glowing and hear them humming from some distance away. Dungar turned on some lights, and we strode down a grassy center aisle with netted pens on each side.
The one on the end had a luminook-sized gap where the fence had separated, large enough for a curious baby to squeeze through. The luminook must’ve scooted out and gone on an adventure.
