Marcus plunged deeper into the reeds, the swamp’s thick humidity clinging to his skin. Each snap of a twig or rustle of leaves sent his heart racing, his ears straining for the faintest whimper. “Luna! Come on, girl!” he called, voice cracking with urgency.
A sudden splash echoed somewhere nearby—water disturbed by tiny paws? Marcus sprinted toward the sound, stepping cautiously on muddy banks and unstable roots. The swamp seemed to close in around him, shadows stretching like dark fingers, yet he pressed on, guided by sheer instinct and desperation.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, every step heavier than the last. His camera swung uselessly at his side; right now, photographs mattered less than finding Luna. Then, a faint, high-pitched yelp carried through the mist. Marcus froze, heart leaping. “Luna?” he whispered, trembling.
The sound came again, closer this time, mingled with rustling reeds. Marcus followed it, weaving around gnarled roots and slippery mud patches. His legs ached, and sweat blurred his vision, but hope flared with every desperate step.
Finally, he spotted a golden flash entangled in a cluster of cypress knees—a tangle of undergrowth had trapped Luna. Relief surged through him, so fierce it nearly buckled his knees. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, girl,” he murmured, kneeling and gently disentangling her small body. Luna’s tail wagged weakly, her eyes bright but anxious.
Once free, Marcus scooped her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he whispered into her fur, voice thick with emotion. Around them, the swamp’s eerie noises resumed, but the terror had passed—for now, Marcus and Luna were together again, their bond stronger than ever.