The Orion Express: The Unexpected Ticket

By L.R. Turkovics and P.L. Turkovics

Dealing with her wounded heart from the sudden disappearance of her mother, seventeen-year-old Raven hopes for a lazy stress-free summer with her three friends, Tyler and twins Sam and Sabina. The detour of her plans arrives when she finds a strange medallion along with a puzzling message promising answers in distant lands, oddly enough, through

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paula Turkovics
• Release date: Nov 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988786115

L.R. Turkovics

The Orion Express is a mother-daughter collaboration which began as a simple wonderment when Lauren would view the star constellations and speculate who had looked at those stars thousands of years ago. Every winter night when she would walk her puppy, Lauren would view the Orion constellation and imagine ancient Egyptians looking at those same stars. Those reoccurring thoughts took root in her imagination and stories started to unfold.Lauren would tell these stories to her mother, Paula on their commutes to karate practices which they both achieve 2nd degree black belts in Tang Soo Do. To encourage her daughter to write, Paula had devised a plan to put forth a novel to capture those inspirations. In karate, once mother and daughter stepped on the mat they were equals. They used the same unconventional approach with their writings. Once they began writing, they were peers both equally contributing their ideas to create an ancient destination for The Orion Express.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Counseling Grief

Some of history’s most momentous events came about by the most seemingly insignificant incidents. For Sir Isaac Newton, whose work in the field of physics made him one of the greatest scientists in the world, it was simply the sight of an apple falling off a tree that inspired him. For Countess Báthory de Ecsed of Hungary, it was the hypnotic allure of a single drop of blood on her hand after she struck a servant girl that triggered her to slaughter hundreds of young women in her hope for eternal youth.

Skipping rocks into the turquoise blue waters of Michigan’s Torch Lake, Raven thought about those parting words from her history teacher on the final day of her junior year of high school. She never really cared for her history class and thought her teacher was being dramatic in his attempt to capture the students’ attention on that last day of school. She silently scoffed at the idea that one tiny incident could cause that much change—or havoc.

Raven was already sweating from the short walk from her bus stop to the public beach. She paused long enough to put her long and curly black hair into a haphazard ponytail before looking for a few more rocks to throw. The humid weather held the promise of a sweltering summer vacation, and the waves on the lake looked inviting.

But Raven couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting toward her mom’s disappearance and the long, lonely months of living with her mom’s sister, her Aunt Jackie. The painful circumstance she was thrust into was too raw to ignore—even for a day. How could anyone accept that her mom had simply drowned? That’s what the police assumed when Elizabeth’s boat was found floating in the middle of the lake. But Torch Lake was so deep that her body would likely have sunk three hundred feet down and been unretrievable.

Her aunt accepted the police report—despite Raven’s insistence that her mom would never go swimming alone. And not only had her workaholic psychologist aunt not comforted Raven in her time of need, but she’d sentenced Raven to be a prisoner in her own home.

Raven’s mind cleared as she realized that while she was focusing focusing on her aunt and the restrictions she’d been placed under, she’d stopped skipping rocks and was slamming them into the water. Dropping the handful of stones back onto the sand, Raven turned to survey the beach and picnic area. The sand was warm enough for Raven to sit on the beach instead of the picnic tables, where the seagulls were using them for target practice. The turquoise color of the lake soothed Raven’s agitated nerves as she silently rehearsed what she’d say in her upcoming session with Aunt Jackie. Her aunt had been so confident in her skill as a therapist that she took it upon herself to oversee Raven’s grief counseling, even though it wasn’t ethical to have a family member be your therapist.

Yes, I understand my mother is gone. Yes, I know that she isn’t coming back. Yes, I have both short-term and long-term goals to get passed this difficult period. It was hard for Raven to say this in her head, let alone out loud, because all she wanted to do was scream, NO, my mom is alive! The practiced phrases cried false in Raven’s head, but if she intended to get some freedom back it needed to be said.

Standing up, Raven brushed the sand off her backside and mentally attempted to shake off the distressing thoughts that were eroding her positive attitude. If her aunt saw Raven’s moodiness, she might suspect Raven had not been entirely honest in their sessions. It was not smart to throw away months of methodical planning on a temper tantrum. Slipping her sandals back on, Raven was walking to her house when a brand-new Mustang GT convertible swung around the corner with five of her classmates in it. The music was blaring, and they were obviously celebrating the start of their summer vacation in grand style.

Great, muttered Raven, rolling her emerald, green eyes. The occupants ignored her as they flew by. Raven hated that they looked at her mostly with pity—and a touch of fear. The entire town knew about Raven’s mother’s disappearance over ten months earlier and felt sorry for her. Common knowledge that Raven held a second-degree black belt in karate made her new schoolmates too intimidated to approach her with their sympathies. Raven preferred their fear and despised their pity.

Turning onto the cottage driveway, Raven started dragging her feet like an inmate on a date with the electric chair. Aunt Jackie’s vintage Jaguar was already parked in the driveway. She treated her Jag with tender loving care. Raven wondered yet again why her Aunt lavished attention on the car but not on her. The only interest she gave Raven was clinical. If there was an emotional issue or crisis, Aunt Jackie rode her golden steed to the rescue. But she was indisposed to everyday living. If Raven had a psych license, she’d diagnose her aunt as a workaholic. She was never mean toward Raven—unless indifference toward your own flesh and blood was considered cruel. Raven thought the saying was true: Those who can’t, teach. Or in this case, counsel.

The red rose bushes in front of the cottage were already blooming, their fragrance drifting across the front yard. It was, however, a major understatement to call it a cottage. Her mother, Elizabeth, called it that, but Raven suspected her mom did it to aggravate her sister. For Aunt Jackie, position and prestige were paramount. She took immense pride in the family estate. Elizabeth knew her sister was a tad snobbish. She loved to provoke Jackie into heated debates over each other’s flaws. The sisters shared the ancestral home and used it for a vacation getaway until Raven’s mother went missing. Afterward, Aunt Jackie assumed permanent residency with Raven in tow.

The cottage was a stately three-story lodge. It included a widow’s walk and a massive wraparound porch and sat on one of Michigan’s most attractive inland coastlines. It had impressive views from the back, which was cleared of trees to view Torch Lake in all its glory. Thick woods permanently shaded the grounds to the front and driveway.

Raven had barely closed the front door when she heard her aunt call her from the den.

Coming! cried Raven with forced cheer. She set her book bag on the antique bench next to the door and shed her sandals so she wouldn’t track sand on the foyer’s polished hardwood floors. To reign in her irritation, Raven took a quiet deep breath and counted to ten before walking into the den with an air of confidence and control.

Many fine reproductions of Renaissance paintings decorated the den’s dark paneled walls. A large antique desk looked out over the woods, and a fieldstone fireplace took up one side of the wall.

Aunt Jackie was sitting in a leather chair near the fireplace, reviewing notes. Looking up and seeing Raven, she closed the manila file, slid it back in her leather designer briefcase, and motioned for her niece to sit down. Raven’s choices were the chair across from her aunt or the couch. An errant thought to throw herself down on the couch and start babbling like a crazed mental patient popped into her head. Stifling a smirk, Raven pushed it out of her mind and sat in the chair closest to Aunt Jackie. Leaning forward, hoping she looked energized and eager, Raven knew what to say to get the conversation moving in the right direction.

How’s your day going? she asked.

Aunt Jackie reveled in discussing how important her work was; it would help to get her in the right frame of mind.

Oh, it’s a terribly busy time of the year with stressed-out teens worried about their college choices, but I’ll get through it, Aunt Jackie replied in a superior tone.

Thank you for asking, she said in an afterthought.

Today was my last day of school, Raven said. I’m thinking of it as not only the end of my junior year but an end to my negativity.

Negativity? repeated Aunt Jackie, sitting up straighter in her leather chair and staring intently into her niece’s brilliant green eyes to judge her honesty. Her perfectly tweezed eyebrows rose questioningly.

I realized that this year I’ve been stuck in a negative frame of mind and not being productive in getting past losing Mom, explained Raven, hoping her aunt couldn’t hear the falsehood in her voice. She discreetly swallowed to rid the lump that rose in her throat as she told the lie.

I’m using the end of the school year as a symbol of closing this chapter of pessimism and to start taking steps toward a better more productive life, she finished with assurance. Raven hoped that she hadn’t used too many pep talk quotes. She worried that she’d laid it on too thick and wondered if her aunt realized that no teenager would talk like that.

To Raven’s satisfaction, Aunt Jackie smiled at her. She continued to discuss the recovery process and how impressed she was with the work they’d done together. Raven barely paid attention as Aunt Jackie droned on. She couldn’t help but compare Jackie’s looks to her mom’s. Both sisters were of average height, and both were slim, but that was the end of the similarities. Raven had inherited her mother’s curly black hair while Jackie wore her straight auburn hair in a short pixie cut. Both women were attractive but in unusual ways. Elizabeth would be viewed as an ethereal beauty while Jackie would be seen as sophisticatedly chic. Being older, Jackie was serious, always playing the part of the big sister and being responsible, while Elizabeth was more outgoing and carefree.

Raven dragged her attention back to the present; their session time was almost up. She grasped that her aunt was relieved she had finally gotten to the last stage of grief—acceptance. Aunt Jackie concluded with a few compliments about her own counseling abilities in getting Raven through the tough time.

Raven idly surmised how overconfidence ran in her family. Her mother was a boastful winner at board games and other competitions.

Jackie now announced that she felt ready to lighten up on the imposed restrictions.

Thanks for the trust. You don’t know how much that means to me, Raven said with mock gratitude. She couldn’t believe her first major attempt at manipulation had succeeded so well, especially against a trained psychologist. Would you like me to cook dinner to celebrate?

Can’t, sighed Aunt Jackie as she looked at her watch. She added with a martyred sigh, I had to move my Parents Without Partners group to tonight and I have loads of paperwork to get caught up on.

Are we going to continue these grief meetings? Raven asked innocently.

Do you think you need them? Aunt Jackie looked sharply at Raven, analyzing her expression.

I don’t think so, Raven said quickly. I think I’m emotionally ready to do this on my own. If I start slipping back, I’ll ask for help.

Aunt Jackie nodded. Excellent. We won’t continue our sessions unless you need them. She stood up, straightened her short skirt, and retrieved her briefcase. Aunt Jackie preferred expensive business suits but tended to wear her skirts a little shorter than what fashion dictated.

Be a dear and make that chicken and vegetable dish you cooked last week. Just leave it in the fridge for later. I’m going to be late, said Aunt Jackie, fluffing up her hair with her free hand and viewing her appearance in an ornate wooden mirror. You’re gifted in the kitchen—just like your mother.

Thanks, Aunt Jackie, said Raven, standing up and turning to leave the den.

Raven! called Aunt Jackie.

Refraining from rolling her eyes, Raven turned back toward her aunt, who was holding out her manicured hand.

Here, you’ve earned these, Aunt Jackie said with a small smile. Raven walked over and took a set of keys out of the outstretched hand. The key chain held car keys to a ’66 candy apple red Mustang convertible that belonged to her mom. The other key on the chain went to a locked door in the basement that housed Raven’s martial arts weapons. When Jackie’s restrictions began, Raven wanted to point out that kitchen knives were more deadly than her weapons—but then she’d have been making all the meals with a butter knife. Raven was speechless as she gazed at the coveted keys. She wasn’t expecting the return of her weapons or the car—not without another month’s worth of convincing.

Thank you, she said. She took the keys from her aunt with a shaking hand. She truly meant it this time.

Aunt Jackie smiled at the overwhelmed look on Raven’s face.

You’re welcome. See you tonight. She grabbed her purse in the foyer and left the house in a whirl of silk and perfume.

Raven stood in the den in shocked silence, gawking at the keys in her hands. Her scheme had worked! Raven turned toward the window as her aunt’s stiletto heels crunched on the gravel driveway. She watched her aunt slide smoothly into her car, rev up her Jag, and leave. Once the car was out of sight, Raven let out the loudest squeal and broke into an impromptu dance of her own celebration of freedom.

After several celebratory minutes, Raven skipped into the large country kitchen to make dinner. She liked cooking when Aunt Jackie wasn’t around. It was more fun when the stereo was playing music from this century instead of the classical selections her aunt preferred. Jackie would say that type of music calmed her intellect. Raven figured the ancient (to her) melodies soothed the savage beast that lurked somewhere within her aunt’s soul.

Cooking had always been a favorite pastime for Raven and her mother. Elizabeth had a talent for turning the most boring meals into works of art and taught Raven everything she knew. They’d prepare meals and discuss their day. Both had hectic schedules, so Elizabeth planned the cooking hour as mother-daughter time. Elizabeth was always engaged in a new project with game design. Raven was always busy with school and karate classes, but she never missed their hour of culinary creation. They had a close relationship; it was just the two of them. Raven never knew who her father was—just that his name was Dan and he’d died when her mom was pregnant. There were no pictures of him around the house. Raven had even sneaked into the attic and basement of their house in the suburbs of Detroit but found only dust bunnies and spiders. The only proof that he’d ever existed was Raven.

Her father was the one subject Elizabeth was never willing to discuss; it hurt too much. Raven knew her mom had loved her father, but something had happened to break her heart. Two years earlier, Aunt Jackie tried to get Elizabeth to talk about Dan. They thought Raven was sleeping when they began arguing. They didn’t realize how loud they were. Raven woke up, but before she could sneak down the stairs to properly eavesdrop, Jackie had stormed out of the house. The sisters didn’t talk for six months, and then Elizabeth disappeared. Raven wondered if Aunt Jackie regretted the missed opportunity of making up with her sister. Raven wasn’t comfortable enough to ask. Aunt Jackie was great at showing her patients how to resolve their issues, but she never took her own advice.

After cooking dinner and putting Aunt Jackie’s meal in the fridge, Raven went to her bedroom to check her email. She hadn’t eaten any of the meal she’d prepared. The return of her weapons and, more importantly, her mother’s Mustang, had robbed her of an appetite. She was too hyper to eat. She decided to get her weapons from storage and give them a proper cleaning the next day when she could commit the entire day to the long-awaited task. Raven ignored the cluttered bedroom and looked out her window while her computer warmed up. Her window had an unobstructed view of the lake. The sparkling lake was beautiful as the last of the sun rays danced on the waves. Numerous seagulls searched for food while a pair of swans with their new offspring swam close to the neighbors’ docks, hoping someone would come out to feed them. Raven saw a few boaters racing along the surface, making their way home before night fell. On the water, it was hard to find your way home in the dark.

Raven turned to the computer and was pleased to see an email from her best friend, Sabina Hawthorn. Sabina had been a solid, comforting presence when Raven’s mom went missing. She lived in Colorado but had come to Torch Lake with her family for the past six summers to vacation.

It was love at first sight when Sabina’s father skipped out of a boring medical lecture in town and went jet skiing on the lake. That excursion led him to buy the house next to the cottage. When Raven and Sabina met, they became instant best friends. They had the greatest times swimming and boating, despite having to deal with Sabina’s twin brother, Sam. That first year, he had no boys around his age to hang out with, so he entertained himself by bothering Raven and Sabina. The girls thought they were saved when Tyler’s family, the Manzardo’s, bought a vacation house down the road. Sabina said Sam would be too busy to aggravate them anymore. She was wrong. It took just a day for Sam and Tyler to find new and interesting ways to either irritate or scare the girls. When Sabina’s family returned to Colorado, the girls stayed in touch by email.

As usual, Sabina’s email was very thorough, listing her airline flight numbers and arrival time in Michigan. Raven admired Sabina’s diligence. Sabina also wrote that her father wasn’t coming until five days later—after he was confident that a patient had no post-surgery complications. The twins’ father was a plastic surgeon who was rumored to have worked on some of the most famous, albeit aging, faces in Hollywood. Sabina finished her email by listing her final grades. It was no surprise to Raven that her friend’s report card was all As. Sabina was super smart. They were in the same grade, but Sabina breezed through her college prep classes with top grades while Raven struggled to keep a B average. Both Sabina and Sam were unnaturally studious. People thought the twins were geniuses, but Sabina had explained that she and her brother were just hyper-focused on subjects they’d found interesting—until they became experts. They found researching more stimulating than movies, TV, and social media.

Raven wrote that she was excited to see Sabina, that Sabina’s plan to convince her aunt had worked, and that Aunt Jackie had returned her weapons and the car. (It had been Sabina’s idea to encourage Aunt Jackie to believe that Raven was on the road to recovery.) Sabina thought it would be better for Raven than butting heads with Aunt Jackie.

After sending that off, Raven opened an email from Tyler. His was short and not as informative as Sabina’s. Boys never wrote long notes; they were the worst pen pals. Sam and Tyler had sent brief texts or funny jokes to Raven during the past year to try to cheer her up. Tyler’s note said how ecstatic he was to graduate high school and start college in the fall. He added that he and his parents would be up by the weekend latest and hoped to arrive sooner.

Raven sent him the date and time of the twins’ arrival. She also congratulated Tyler on getting a coveted baseball scholarship; a full ride at a Big Ten college was a huge accomplishment. Tyler was a talented jock with good looks. Raven thought that was a bad combination. Guys like that were usually stuck on themselves. For that reason, Raven would find ways to argue with him. She didn’t want him to think all he had to do was smile or flex his muscles to get his way.

After finishing her emails, Raven quickly downloaded a few songs. She wanted to make sure her phone was loaded with great music so she could enjoy a lazy summer with her friends before starting senior year. Her aunt had often said that senior year of high school was the most stressful time. Raven hoped Aunt Jackie wouldn’t think she’d need more therapy. Raven shook her head and took a deep breath to rid herself of that train of thought before she ruined her great mood.

Absently looking out the window while powering down the computer, a jet skier caught Raven’s attention as he sped by. The rider was enjoying the last rays of daylight on the water in grand style. Even from a distance, Raven could tell he was being reckless. One major wave turned his cocky attitude into humiliation as he went one way and the machine another. Raven laughed out loud. For some reason, the scene reminded her of Sam. Raven watched the guy climb back on the jet ski and hoped that he was heading home so he wouldn’t become lost in the dark.

Chapter 2

What the . . . ?

The next day, Raven stared moodily through her bedroom window at the raging storm. The unexpected rain came fast and furiously, cutting short her time out on the lake. Earlier that day, she’d anchored her jet ski on the largest sandbar to swim and catch a few rays. The sandbar was always busy with sun and water worshipers, and today was no different. The party atmosphere was contagious and continuous. Many boaters would bring coolers filled with a variety of food and drink to keep them satisfied throughout the day. There would be girls throwing Frisbees, kids playing with water toys, and guys trying not to be caught visually sampling the bikini-clad eye candy. Some boaters would bring their dogs to enjoy the water. Earlier, a ferocious Chihuahua sporting a small life jacket swam along the sandbar, growling at anyone who came too close, while a mischievous chocolate lab played catch with its owner. On the other side of the sandbar, a vigorous football game was underway in the ankle-deep area.

Raven was thoroughly enjoying the game, watching the young studs put on a great exhibit of talent and bulging muscles for all the scantily clad ladies, including her. A storm broke up the show way too early for Raven’s liking, but she made her way home fast. The black clouds and ominous thunder and lightning were too intimidating to be ignored. The last place she wanted to be was in the water in those conditions. The deep lake could be treacherous in a storm.

Raven shook the images of the alluring football players out of her mind. She hadn’t recognized any of the boys, figured they were from downstate and hoped to see them again soon. They looked promising—not as ignorant as the boys from her school.

Sighing, she turned back to the task at hand. Cleaning her bedroom was her least favorite chore and one she’d been putting off for ages. She had ignored Aunt Jackie’s constant nagging to clean it. But her temporary confinement due to the storm was a perfect time to polish and display her newly reacquired weapons. With Tyler not expected until the weekend, she and Sabina might come up to her bedroom for a little privacy and to escape Sam’s eavesdropping. Sam tended to get bored easily when he was alone, and the girls were prime targets for his entertainment.

Raven had cleared the floor, and her clothes were all hung in her closet and no longer piled on her computer chair. She saved the most enjoyable part of cleaning until the end. Her martial art weapons shined and were ready to be hung on her walls and above the fireplace. She’d never redecorated her room when Aunt Jackie had unceremoniously taken down the display. Raven realized it was a temporary, albeit lengthy, situation. The practice, or non-lethal, weapons were arranged on one side of the fireplace and the more traditional, or lethal, weapons were on the other side. The Samurai sword, Raven’s most prized possession, had a place of honor above the fireplace mantle.

Raven was standing back to admire her weapons exhibit when lightning struck a nearby tree. The percussion shook the house, and one of her throwing death stars, which were Japanese concealed weapons used as hidden daggers, fell from the wall and rolled into the fireplace hearth. Raven cursed under her breath and flung herself to her knees to dig through the ashes. The last thing she wanted was to lose a gift her mom had given her for Christmas two years earlier. Most kids found toys or clothes under the Christmas tree, but not Raven. Elizabeth was not a typical parent. She bought Raven weapons or warfare books every holiday season.

Five minutes and several layers of ash later, Raven felt an object along the back of the fireplace. As she tried to retrieve it, she scraped her finger against a ridge. Pulling her hand free, Raven realized the finger was bleeding. She hadn’t cut it on the death star—it wasn’t sharp enough to cut skin. She stared at the fireplace in confusion. She knew a more complete cleaning would be needed to find out what the hell had sliced her finger.

With her finger cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged, Raven went in search of a hand broom and a bucket. Cleaning up the ash and soot took longer than she expected. When the remnants were cleared out, Raven climbed into the fireplace to look for the ridge that had cut her. She was glad to find the errant death star but wondered what else was in the fireplace. Careful not to injure another finger, she gingerly felt around the fireplace.

Her hand met an irregularity in the stone floor. Cautiously, she prodded the area and concluded that a secret compartment lay at the bottom of the hearth. She jumped up and checked outside the room to make sure Aunt Jackie wasn’t coming up the stairs. Then she quietly closed the door and locked it. Raven didn’t know why she felt so secretive, but the appearance of a hidden compartment seemed to warrant it.

Hunched over in the hearth again, Raven examined the area closely with a flashlight she kept by her bed for the rare occasions when the cottage lost electricity in a storm. The compartment was flush with the surrounding stone and as wide as a large shoe box. The edge that had caught her finger turned out to be a small hinge. She tapped, pushed, and pressed all around the area but it wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, she grabbed one of her practice knives off the wall, shoved it into a small opening and scratched the blade in the process. The rusted hinges creaked and groaned as Raven used all her force to pry open the top.

As she peered inside, her flashlight revealed a dusty box within. With barely held excitement, she carefully removed it. The size of a cigar box, the wooden box looked ancient, with no markings on the surface to show what lay inside. A nondescript lock on its side secured the contents within. Raven dug into the secret compartment again, trying to find a key but produced a fist full of dust bunnies instead.

It could be anywhere, she mumbled in frustration.

She moved around the bedroom feeling the rest of the fireplace, walls, floors, and even her ceiling with the help of a chair but to no avail. Several swear words screamed in her head, but Raven didn’t voice them due to Aunt Jackie’s presence downstairs. Her aunt often commented that only ignorant people used profanity. Raven thought it would be best not to enlighten her aunt that in certain situations a good swear word was called for. Raven picked up the box and looked it over more closely. There were small hinges on the side that a sturdy screwdriver could take care of. She didn’t want to ruin any more blades unless she had too.

The shed, surmised Raven excitedly, knowing plenty of tools were housed there. She strode to her bed, shoved the box under the mattress, straightened the covers, and picked up the bucket full of ashes. Then she headed downstairs.

Hi, how’s the chicken? she said, bursting into the kitchen.

Aunt Jackie jumped. Raven always walked stealthily, like a ninja, benefiting from years of martial arts training.

Oh, you scared me, exclaimed Aunt Jackie. She picked up her fork from the floor. Where are you going?

Dumping the ashes in the fire pit, Raven explained. It wasn’t a complete lie; she would dump the ashes before heading to the shed to get the screwdriver.

Aunt Jackie smirked as she skewed a piece of chicken with her fork. You finally cleaned your room? Did you find Hoffa?

Who’s he? asked Raven, feigning ignorance and stopping at the back door. She turned her back to her aunt to hide a telltale teasing grin. She loved yanking her aunt’s chain.

It hurts to think of what they are not teaching you, exclaimed Aunt Jackie, rolling her eyes. Don’t be out there long. Its pitch black out and God knows what kind of animals are walking around.

Raven hurried out the back door to dump the ashes and get to the shed before her aunt missed her. She wanted to get a screwdriver and get back to her room fast. The suspense was killing her. What was in the box? How long had it been in the fireplace and why? Who put it there? It had to have been a family ancestor—the one who built the house on the lake. Preoccupied with unanswered questions, Raven wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings until a big black shadow appeared from the woods and was upon her.

ROAR!

Startled with fear, Raven swung the metal bucket at the large mass and screamed so loud that it echoed across the lake.

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