It got stranger. More raccoons emerged from the undergrowth, each clutching strange trinkets—sunglasses, phones, shiny objects. They filed up a rickety ramp into the shack. Marcus’s mind reeled. Why were these raccoons hoarding stolen belongings? Alarm bells rang in his head. This reeked of something orchestrated, not mere animal curiosity.
Marcus’s racing thoughts coalesced into one possibility: human involvement. Could someone be training raccoons to steal from unsuspecting visitors? Legends of illicit smuggling rings flitted through his imagination. He braced himself, creeping nearer, every sense alert for the presence of dangerous men lurking among the silent trees.