Dungar’s brow furrowed. “Predators?”
“I’ve checked for signs but have seen nothing unusual.” Ruugar ran a hand through his dark hair. “I thought maybe you two could take a look. You might see something I haven’t.”
“Of course,” Dungar and I said simultaneously.
We exchanged a quick smile.
“We’ll head over as soon as we finish here,” Dungar added.
After Ruugar left, I changed into jeans and a lightweight flannel shirt, practical for hiking around pens and potentially through underbrush.
When I emerged from the bedroom, Dungar waited by the door, his expression thoughtful.
“Something on your mind?” I asked.
“The luminooks are sensitive creatures,” he said as we walked to the pen holding Treelee, who snorted and trotted over to greet us. “They respond to changes in their environment before most animals would notice. If something’s bothering them…”
“You think there’s more to it than just adjustment to living on the surface.”
He nodded, easing Treelee from the pasture andboosting me up onto her spine. I latched onto the horn jutting up between her shoulders and wiggled my butt into position. “Ruugar knows those animals better than anyone.” He leaped up behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist like usual. We’d fallen into this rhythm, and I liked it. Wished it would never change.
“If he’s concerned, we should be too,” Dungar said as he nudged Treelee toward town.
The ride to the luminook pens took us away from the main tourist areas, around the back side of the town where the working aspects of the ranch had been housed. Few visitors ventured here unless they signed up for specific experiences. The dirt road wound through stands of aspen trees, their leaves shimmering silver-green in the morning breeze.
The outdoor pens were situated in a clearing that backed up to the main barns. Rather than cages, they were large, open-air enclosures with natural features, including rock formations, fallen logs, and native plants, all providing a comforting environment for the creatures that were supposed to mimic the world they’d live in around us when we set them free. A high fence surrounded the area, more to keep predators out than to keep the luminooks in.
Ruugar met us at the gate, his expression tight with worry. “They’re worse today. Listen.”
In the quiet morning air, I could hear it, a discordant humming that raised the hair on the back of my neck. Instead of the melodic trills I’d heard when we’d found Marcy, this sounded erratic, almost desperate.
“How long have they been like this?” Dungar asked.
“For about three days, but it’s been getting progressively worse.” Ruugar unlocked the gate and let us in. “I’ve checked their food, the water supply, even tested the soil for contaminants. Nothing.”
I followed them to the largest enclosure where several adult luminooks huddled together near a cluster of rocks, their spines pulsing with agitated bursts of light. They moved restlessly, constantly shifting positions as if unable to settle.
“They’re afraid.” I recognized the behavior from my own experience. “This isn’t only discomfort. I bet they’re genuinely frightened of something.”
Dungar glanced at me. “How can you tell?”
“Body language. They’re protecting their vulnerable spots, staying close to escape routes. See how they keep their backs to the rock pile? That’s defensive positioning.” It was exactly how I’d learned to sit in restaurants, on buses, in safe houses, always with a clear view of exits, always with my back protected.
He nodded. “You have experience with this.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Some.”
Ruugar backed toward the gate. “I’ll leave you two to look around. Maybe you’ll spot something I missed. I need to check on the wild colony. Lock up when you leave?”
We both nodded.
After he left, Dungar and I began a methodical inspection of the enclosures. He started at the gate and worked clockwise while I began at the opposite side,moving counterclockwise so we’d meet in the middle. It was the kind of coordinated effort that didn’t need discussion. We’d fallen into a natural working rhythm over the past few days.
“What exactly are we looking for?” I asked, carefully examining the ground for any unusual marks.
“Anything out of place. Footprints that don’t belong, disturbed vegetation, unfamiliar scents.” He crouched near the fence line, running his fingers along the wire mesh. “Luminooks are extremely sensitive to certain chemicals. Even trace amounts can upset the entire colony.”
I watched him work, appreciating the way he examined each section of fence with the same thoroughness. No skipping ahead, no rushing through less interesting areas.
