Marcus lowered his camera, heart beating faster. He called her name once, then twice, voice swallowed by the buzzing humidity. Tourists remained engrossed in coaxing the raccoons closer. Stepping away from the spectacle, he ventured down a patch of damp ground, eyes darting for signs of tiny paw prints.
His pulse quickened when he noticed fresh tracks edging a patch of mud. But upon closer inspection, they belonged to the masked visitors. Raccoon footprints crowded the dirt, leaving no distinct trace of Luna. Anxiety flared, and he regretted allowing her to roam freely in such unpredictable territory.