by D. S. Elstad
Mom knit her eyebrows together, looking worried.
“But that’s not the weirdest thing, Mom. As he was standing up, taking a more human shape, I saw a greenish glow coming off his face, right where his eyes would be. His eyes were glowing, like an animal’s do at night, you know?”
Mom sat up straight now and turned to face me. “His eyes were glowing?” she asked; the worry seemed to be replaced with a deeper sense of dread.
Fear started rising in me in response to Mom’s reaction. Why was she getting so freaked out?
“Yeah, his eyes were glowing, just like Max’s do.” I reached down and pulled my gray tabby up on my lap, staring into his lime-green eyes.
“You said this boy has been at the school a short time?”
“Yeah, he’d only been there for a few days when I left for Ireland. He said he moved here from Taos. Why, why are you asking that?” My heart started racing. Mom didn’t get rattled easily, so the fact that she was now set me off as well.
“If he is what I think he is, then I don’t want you to have anything to do with him. I need to check around. I’ll ask your Uncle Itan. He knows much more about this than I do.” Mom stood up and went into the kitchen, then came back with the phone.
“Wait, you’re calling him now?” I asked as I took hold of her wrist.
“Willow, he’ll want to know about this right away.” She began making her call when I grabbed her hand.
“Mom! What the heck. What is so bad that you have to call Uncle Itan at this hour? What do think Hawk is?”
She bit the side of her lower lip then took hold of my hand. “Willow, if what you saw was Hawk, I don’t think he’s…” she said nervously.
I shook my head in confusion. “He’s…what? You don’t think he’s…what?”
Mom lowered the phone and rested her hand on my shoulder. “Wagmu, I don’t think Hawk is a shapeshifter, and the fact that he’s zeroed in on you has me very worried.”
“Mom! Now you’re scaring the heck out of me! What do you think he is?”
“Willow, I believe Hawk…may be a skinwalker,” she answered, fear filling her face.
I tossed and turned in my bed, replaying the conversation with Mom about Hawk. It was impossible to sleep; whenever I’d doze off the glowing green eyes from the park would flash into my head and jar me awake.
Mom didn’t want to go into any details about skinwalkers and what was so frightening about them, but she didn’t have to. I knew the legend; you don’t grow up in New Mexico surrounded by Native people and not know about skinwalkers. Even though many Indians would rather not talk about them, I’d heard about how they practice dark witchcraft and have the ability to take on the shape of animals –and possibly even people – depending on how much power they possess.
Before we moved to Santa Fe, we lived in a small town near Albuquerque. There was a woman… on the outskirts of town; no one wanted anything to do with her. I remember the kids saying she was a skinwalker.
The rumor began when a rancher started losing some of his chickens to a coyote. He tried and tried to catch the animal but couldn’t. He had lost about a dozen chickens before deciding to set up a trap. He bought a large catch-and-release cage that would lure the coyote in; then the spring would shut the door, trapping the animal.
He baited the cage and set it up at the entrance to his chicken coop. During the night he heard the door to the cage snap shut. He jumped up and ran out of his house but was surprised when he looked inside and saw that the cage was empty. Staring down at the dusty ground he could make out the unmistakable footprints of a coyote leading up to and going into the cage. But the coyote was gone. He shined his flashlight on the ground and was shocked to see human footprints heading away from the cage, towards the road in the distance. He quickly followed the footprints and running about a hundred feet ahead of him was the woman from town, barefoot. He raced after her, calling her name, and stopped when she turned to look back at him, her glowing green eyes threatening an attack.
I lay there thinking about that woman and remembered how Mom and Dad would go out of their way to avoid her. There was something ominous about her. Hawk, on the other hand, wasn’t like that, he was personable, kids liked and admired him. He did have that other side to him, though, that bad boy side. I wrestled with the obvious differences between the two skinwalkers before my tired brain could stand no more and finally let me drift off to sleep.
The canyon and its spectacular teepee cliffs greeted the morning sky, painted in shades of red. The pinkish cones stood proud against the crimson backdrop. A low howl escaped my mouth and echoed, filling the plateau with its only sound.
I ran among the eroded rocks making my way to the arroyo resting in the valley below, a trickling of water still running through it. I lowered my head and drank before sniffing the ground in search of my prey. Once I had locked onto the scent of the man, I followed it back up to the mesa top and searched the area visually. The scent was lost.
I perked my ears in an effort to hear…anything. Behind me I sensed movement in the Indian paintbrushes that covered the mesa. There, I could make out the top of a tawny-colored head, a feline head…a mountain lion. The man had shifted.
“He’s here,” I said, in mindspeak.
The mountain lion rose and within seconds was airborne, only inches away from me. His eyes focused in on mine and he bared his teeth and snarled. He raised his large paw and swung at me.
I stepped back a few paces –readying myself for the attack. My throat produced a deep warning growl and my muscles tightened. The cat took a step towards me, never loosening his stare. His body hunched down as he lowered his head. Before the cat could even blink, the screeching eagle shot down and jabbed its talons into his back. He yowled in pain and quickly turned, swinging his massive paws at the eagle who held tight to his pelt.
I lunged forward and clamped down on the cat’s neck, deeply sinking my teeth. I clenched my jaw tight against his twists and turns, unwilling to let go. He wrapped his left leg around mine and forced me to the ground. My jaw unclenched and I lost my grip. The eagle, who was still attached to the cat’s back, rose and then swooped down once again.
The mountain lion released me and focused on the relentless sky assaults of the eagle. I stood and shook my head, reorienting myself to the fight.
The eagle took hold of the lion’s neck and pecked at his eyes with his beak. The lion kept batting at him, trying to force its release. The cat was focused on protecting his eyes, which gave me the chance to attack from behind. I rocketed from the ground and landed square on his back. The eagle released his hold and ascended once more. I went for the neck and squarely positioned my teeth. Before I was able to force them in, the cat rolled, throwing me from his back. My head smashed into a rock, knocking me lifeless for a few seconds.
When I looked over to where the cat stood, I saw the eagle get hit and knocked to the ground. He lay motionless. The lion lowered his head and yowled.
He laid down and licked his huge paw before he stretched out his front legs, then his back, and twisted his head. He stood up and let out a loud snarl before changing; his vast body shrinking and morphing before my eyes. He reduced to a third his former size, with the fur being replaced by brown and beige feathers. His four muscular legs became two sturdy bird legs with seven-inch-long talons.
I raced to where the cat continued to shapeshift. He looked my way as he lifted into the air, just out of my reach, perching himself in the skeleton of a nearby pine. I jumped up on the trunk of the tree and growled, watching him complete his transformation. He directed his attention on the eagle lying on the ground several feet away.
The eagle recovered and elevated into the air. He circled the pine tree, letting out a shrieking cry. The mountain lion had completely shifted into a hawk and shot straight up, attaching himself to the eagle.
The two engaged in an airborne battle. Feathers began cascading, making their way to the ground. Cries and screeches filled t
he quiet of the early morning. It was impossible to distinguish one bird from the other.
I stood below, watching, when the hawk broke away and landed on a rocky ledge that protruded out over the canyon. The eagle pursued, trapping him in his talons while lifting him from the ledge. The hawk spread his wings, which seemed to grow as he was being hauled up into the sky. Within seconds his wingspan had gone from six feet across to ten. He easily broke out of the eagle’s grip. In an instant he had hold of the eagle’s neck and dropped to the stone overhang. He slammed the eagle down on the stone and held him there while he pecked at his throat. The eagle wrestled, trying to free himself but kept being pushed down by the hawk.
I raced to the edge of the canyon and howled as I watched the eagle being ripped apart. I ran back to the tree, turned and began my charge, concentrating on speed. I quickly arrived at the rim of the canyon and with an abrupt push, forced myself into the air, directing my leap to the ledge twenty feet away. My paws latched on to the front of the stone as I fought to bring the rest of my body to the surface. The hawk quickly let go of the lifeless eagle and hovered in front of me driving its claws into my face. The force from its attack sent my left paw over the edge. I struggled against it, trying desperately to lift myself. I watched as my other paw began to lose ground, noticing the ravine two hundred feet below me.
As I turned my head back, the hawk forced his talons securely into my skull. The eagle rose up behind him and thrust his claws into the hawk’s back forcing the release of my head. The hawk took to the air and flew out of sight. The eagle then lowered himself below my struggling body. I felt a force on my back legs that jolted me to the surface of the boulder. I turned to face the eagle as he held himself in the air.
A screeching cry announced the hawks return as he flew across the canyon, his claws extended. He drove himself onto the eagles back. The force of the hit smashed the eagle into the ledge. His eyes grew dim and blood oozed from his beak. The hawk pulled back, still holding tight onto the limp body. The eagle’s head fell forward and his wings dropped. The hawk let out a piercing cry then released his talons, letting the lifeless body drop. I watched as the eagle plunged to the depths of the ravine…
Next in the Series:
Book Two
The White Cliffs of OwaNka
Rise of the Skinwalker
By
DS Elstad
Coming Fall 2015
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