Chapter 9
Riley
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grassy terrain as Dungar and I set out toward the south ridge.
Watching him prepare for our search had been like witnessing a master craftsman at work, with every piece of equipment checked twice, backup supplies distributed between our packs, and coordinates triple-verified on his laminated maps.
“Emergency flares, thermal blankets, first aid kit,” he said, pointing to each item. “GPS backup device, whistle, rope, and a flashlight with extra batteries.”
In my previous life, this level of preparation would have felt suffocating. I’d survived by thinking fast, adapting quickly, and trusting my instincts when plans fell apart. But watching Dungar’s approach didn’t make me feel trapped. It made me feel safe in a way I’d forgotten was possible.
“You know,” I said, adjusting my pack straps. “Most people would just grab a flashlight and hope for the best.”
His dark eyes found mine, a hint of uncertainty flickering across his features. “Is it too much?”
“A missing child isn’t the time to wing it. Your preparation could save her life.”
Relief softened his expression. “You really think so?”
“I know so. Where I come from, the difference between preparation and improvisation is often the difference between…” I caught myself before revealing too much. “Between success and disaster.”
The terrain grew steeper as we continued across the plain, purple grass giving way to rocky outcroppings dotted with hardy shrubs. Dungar navigated the path with the confidence of someone who’d studied every stone and slope.
“There.” He pointed toward a cluster of boulders about fifty yards ahead. “The wild luminooks den in those rocks during the day. As the sun sets, they’ll start to emerge.”
Faint glimmers of bioluminescent light were already beginning to pulse. But my attention was drawn to disturbed vegetation along what looked like a game trail.
“Dungar.” I knelt beside a patch of trampled grass. “This looks fresh.”
He crouched beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he examined the marks. “Good eye. They’re heading northeast, toward the clearing where the luminooks gather in the evening to hum.”
A rustle in the bushes behind us made us both turn. A woman in her thirties with short dark hair strode toward us, carrying camera equipment and wearing the kind of hiking boots and a khaki shirt and pants that had seen serious trail time.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, slightly breathless.
She pushed a few strands of her dark brown hair off her face.
“I’m Ava Mayfair, traveling photographer and blogger.
I was documenting the luminook colony when I heard about the missing child.
I know this area well. I’ve been photographing here for over a week. Mind if I help with the search?”
Dungar glanced at me.
I nodded. “Glad for the help. I’m Riley and this is Dungar. Any chance you’ve seen someone’s tracks in the area?”
Ava’s expression brightened. “Maybe? About thirty minutes ago, I saw someone moving through the trees over there.” She pointed to the northern part of the plain. “I thought they were out for a hike like me.”
It could be Marcy; or it might not be her at all, but we’d check it out.
We continued walking together.
Soft humming drifted through the twilight air as we approached the feeding ground, a melodic sound that made my heart leap with hope.
“Marcy?” I called out.
The humming stopped.
We rounded a cluster of boulders and found a little girl in a small clearing, sitting cross-legged in the grass with a baby luminook curled in her lap. Both child and creature looked up at us.
“Oh my,” Ava whispered, already raising her camera. “This is magical.”
The baby luminook’s spines pulsed with blue light, casting an ethereal glow across Marcy’s dirt-smudged face.
“Are you Marcy?” I asked, approaching her slowly.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
“Your mom is looking for you,” I said. “We joined the search. I’m Deputy Smith, and this is Sheriff Dungar.”
The little girl looked between us, frowning at the photographer. “Mommy said it’s okay for me to talk to the police. Are you the police?”
I crouched down beside her. “We are.”
Marcy smiled and stroked the luminook’s tiny head. “I was singing to him. He likes it when I sing.”
“Would it be alright if I took some pictures for your family?” Ava asked. “This is such a beautiful moment. They’d love to have these memories.”
“I’m sure that will be alright,” Dungar said. “Just clear it with her mother once we’re back in town.” He lifted his radio and notified everyone that we’d found Marcy safe.
While Ava moved around us, taking photos from every angle, I sat on the ground beside Marcy. “Your mother is very worried about you.”
Dungar notified all the teams that we’d found Marcy and cheers rang out from those still searching. After putting his radio away, he stooped down in front of the little girl. “I see you’ve found one of our special luminooks.”
“He was outside the pen behind the barn,” Marcy said. “Too far from the others. I saw lights and I followed him here.” She gestured to the area in general. “But I can’t find any of the lum-a-ooks to bring him home.”
The wild ones had probably scattered when they saw her coming.
“His mama is probably looking for him back in town, just like your mama is looking for you. Can you tell me how you got here? Did you follow the path with the purple grass?”
She nodded. “I saw him from the fence. He was glowing and he looked sad.”
“That was very kind of you to want to help him.” Dungar held out his hands. “But baby luminooks need to be with their families, just like little girls do. May I take him?”
Marcy carefully lifted the luminook and placed it in Dungar’s hands. There was something sweet about a big burly orc cradling a delicate, glowing creature with such tenderness.
He turned to me, holding out the luminook. “Would you hold him while I help Marcy?”
“Of course.” I gently took the tiny creature from him.
Growing up, I’d begged for a kitten, but my parents rented an apartment that didn’t allow pets.
As an adult, I’d thought about volunteering at the animal shelter, but I hadn’t reached out to any of them yet.
Then I was discovering horrifying things about the organization I worked for and on the run, testifying, and now, still on the run.
Warmth spread through my chest as I held the baby. Its spines pulsed, and its tiny heartbeat pattered through its soft blue fur. It was like holding starlight, magical and fragile and utterly wonderful.
“Are you hurt anywhere, Marcy?” Dungar asked. “Did you fall down or scrape yourself?”
“Just my knee a little.” She showed him a minor cut on her right knee.
“We’ll get that cleaned up when we get back.” He straightened and held out his hand to her. “It’s time to go back to town. I’ll help you.”
She stood and yawned. “I’m tired.”
“I could carry you if you want,” he said.
Her eyes lit up. “Daddy always carries me on his shoulders. Can you do it too?”
He grinned. “I’d love to.”
Dungar scooped her up and settled her on his broad shoulders, his hands steady on her legs to keep her secure.
“I can see everything.” Marcy laughed. “I’m like a giant.”
Ava’s camera captured the wonder on Marcy’s face, the gentle strength in Dungar’s posture, and the way the last rays of sunlight caught the luminook’s glow in my arms.
“No pictures of my face, please,” I said almost by rote.
“I’ll be happy to blur you or use an emoji.”
“Thanks.”
Dungar’s gaze met mine, but he said nothing.
“This is going to make the most beautiful story,” Ava said. “Social media will eat it up.”
“You’ll need to clear this with Marcy’s mother,” Dungar reminded. “And please blur my face as well as hers.”
“Of course.”
As we began walking back, Marcy chattering about her view from the giant height, I found myself stealing glances at Dungar.
The crisis had revealed layers of him I’d only glimpsed before.
He was competent under pressure and gentle with a frightened child.
I loved the way his methodical nature translated into genuine care for others.
And the way he’d trusted me to hold the luminook, as if he knew instinctively that I would guard something precious.
As we made our way down the trail, Marcy swayed on Dungar’s shoulders, clutching his hair and chattering about her adventure.
“I’m really good at rescuing,” she said. “There was a bad lady who wanted to take the baby lum-a-ook away from his family, so I saved him.”
Dungar and I exchanged glances.
“A bad lady?” I asked carefully.
“Uh-huh. She was trying to catch one of the pretty glowing babies. This one got away. But I was faster than the mean lady. I grabbed the baby and ran away so she couldn’t get him.”
“That sounds like quite an adventure.” Ava adjusted her camera lens and took some more shots from various angles. “You’re very brave.”
The little girl beamed. “I’m going to be a superhero when I grow up. Or maybe a princess. Or both.”
“Did this bad lady have green skin like Sheriff Dungar?” I asked.
“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.