The officers secured the remaining criminals, cuffing them and hauling them onto the boats. Marcus barely registered the chaos around him; his entire focus was on Luna, her tiny body trembling in his arms. He whispered reassurances, stroking her muddy fur, feeling the weight of fear and relief wash over him in equal measure.
Mr. Thompson approached, clapping Marcus gently on the shoulder. “You did good, son. She’s safe now,” he said, his voice a steady anchor amid the fading panic. Marcus nodded, unable to speak, the emotions too raw, too overwhelming.
As the police led the criminals away, Luna nuzzled against Marcus, tail wagging despite the night’s terror. He carried her back to the johnboat, keeping a tight hold, unwilling to risk losing her again. The officers coordinated with him, confirming all evidence was documented and the stolen items recovered.
The swamp’s oppressive humidity clung to Marcus as the boats navigated the winding waterways, but a newfound calm settled over him. For the first time since the night began, he allowed himself to breathe, the rhythmic paddling of the boats carrying him and Luna toward safety.
By the time they reached solid ground, the first hints of dawn brushed the horizon. Marcus set Luna down gently, watching her shake off the swamp water and mud. She barked happily, tail wagging in wild circles, as if celebrating their triumph together.
Marcus knelt beside her, pressing his forehead to hers. “We made it, Luna,” he whispered, voice thick with relief. The nightmare had ended, but the bond forged in terror and determination had only deepened. In the quiet glow of morning, the two of them finally allowed themselves a moment of peace, knowing they had survived the Fenwood Wetlands together.