Marcus lunged through the gap, mud and water splashing around his boots. Luna yipped and wriggled in his arms, her paws scrabbling for solid ground. Behind him, shouts erupted as the criminals scrambled over scattered crates and fumbling raccoons. The smoke and chaos bought him precious seconds, but he knew it wouldn’t last.
Thunder rattled the shack’s flimsy walls, masking the pounding of his own heartbeat. Rain slicked boards threatened to betray him with every step, but adrenaline sharpened his focus. He darted into the dense reeds along the water’s edge, each stride sinking into mud but carrying them both away from immediate danger.
A raccoon, curious or confused, darted past his legs, squealing. Marcus twisted, avoiding a snap of its tiny claws while keeping a firm grip on Luna. The swamp swallowed them in mist and shadow, masking their escape. He could hear the distant shouts of the criminals, but their voices were muffled, the terrain giving him cover.
With a final surge of determination, Marcus forced his legs to push harder, lungs burning. He spotted a high bank ahead—a slight rise in the wetland that promised firmer footing. With Luna clinging to him, he scrambled up, emerging onto a narrow path lined with cypress trees. Heart racing, he pressed forward, rain lashing his face, never slowing, never looking back.
Somewhere in the distance, the shack’s fire hissed and spat sparks into the stormy night. Marcus allowed himself a brief glance over his shoulder. Smoke curled, shadows danced, and the stolen treasures glimmered faintly through the downpour. Relief flooded him—he and Luna were free. For now, the swamp’s mysteries remained theirs alone, and Marcus swore no force would ever separate them again.