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From Ch. 8 of Mystery on Dog Island

The snowmobile sprang to life and headed for Dog Island in spite of loud protesting from Larry.  A haze shrouded the island and snow spiraled in endless circles around the ominous looking, dark green, tree tops.  Raymond no longer tried to avoid the ice ridges.  He was in a hurry and they were getting close to the shoreline.  Full throttle.

Some ridges had jagged peaks pointing skyward.  The snowmobile launched from one peak to the next with a rhythmic thump.  Larry screamed for him to stop, but Raymond loved the adrenalin rush surging through his body.  Is this what it feels like to be a warrior on a raiding party, riding a horse at breakneck speed?  Would I make a good warrior?  Am I brave?  Do I have courage?

Without warning, the next ridge rose out of the haze.  Its vertical spires of ice reflected a variety of blue-green hues in the dim light and looked like a crystal chandelier waiting to be smashed.   Rising several feet in the air, the snowmobile crunched up one side and launched into the wind.  Screaming, yelling and crying rang out through the bleak sky and blizzard winds, but there was no one to hear.  Raymond tried frantically to control the machine.

“Water!” Raymond screamed in sheer panic.


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