The First Age

Once Jacinda nodded, Jill rolled the sleeve back down, covering the tattoo. "My father taught me the ways of the Kitsʼiil. And I went hunting with my husband, before he died."


Jacinda looked puzzled. "Kitsʼiil?"
She guessed it meant Atharim, though she wasn't really sure what that meant either. Their history and lore had not been something Regan had ever taught her. What she had learned was the types of prey they hunted, their habits, their weaknesses and strengths. In the years since, she'd learned from other hunters of things she'd never heard of.

Hosteen spoke up. "Kitsʼiil means 'fragment'."
When she didn't respond with recognition, he shook his head before he went on. "Not surprised Regan never told you. He never seemed to care. Atharim means 'remnant' in the ancient tongue."


She nodded. It made sense. Well it didn't- remnant of what?- but hearing his name made this hard for her. "Alright. So what do we hunt?"


The room was quiet now, the only sound coming from the girls in the living room watching tv. Jill held her cup of coffee in her hand, staring into it as if there were answers there. Her grip seemed tight, too. Hosteen glanced at the girls and then lowered his voice so she had to lean forward to hear and even then, just barely. "Skin walkers."



Edited by Jacinda, Jul 5 2018, 08:38 PM.

Suddenly Jill stood up and clapped her hands once, and Jacinda was taken aback. But before she could say anything, Jill was in the living room. "Come on girls. Bed time."
They looked up at her with surprise. Jill dropped to her knees, gathering them into her arms. Her voice was soft and tender. "It's ok. Shhhh. Your mother needs you tonight. And you need her."


She stroked their hair gently. "Ah, my poor daughters. I know this is hard for you. But it will get better, shiyázhí."
And then, softly, she began to sing.

Chíí’ dóó chíí’. Yázho dóó yázh.
Hazhóó’ígo íłhosh.
Hazhóó’ígo íłhosh shiyázhí....

Jacinda watched, listened, entranced. It was barely audible, and yet she could hear it as clearly as if she were on the couch too. She didn't understand a single word of it. And yet, somehow deep down inside, she could. A lullaby, a mother's song to her daughter.

The voice she heard wasn't Jill's, though. It was a memory, from somewhere else. Someone else. Another time. Another place. Maybe her mother? But her mother had never been overly affectionate, at least that she could remember. Nor could she remember her singing either.

She tried to follow the memory, to coax it from its hiding place,  but it dissipated, smoke passing through her fingers, steam rising from the cup in her hands. Only a lump in her throat remained, though. And yet, there was a quietness here. Peace. And something stirred within in her. Something he barely recognized.

The song ended and then Jill was business again, helped them get their coats and shoes. They gave their grandfather a hug and waved shyly at her, and then they were out the door.

The silence lingered. Hosteen seemed to like the quiet. She almost didn't want to break the mood. But...

"Will they be safe outside? If there are skinwalkers...and if it killed their father...."


Hosteen shook his head sadly. "No. He wasn't killed by the yee naaldlooshii. It was just an accident. Driving late at night. A cow on the road."


Jacinda was confused even as she felt tension- she hadn't even realized it had krept up upon her- drain away. She looked at the door again. "Oh. I had thought, well, with what you said. And your son-in-law..."


He smiled slightly at her. "When my daughter returns, I will explain. Jill doesn't know the whole story. And speaking of these things invites evil. I will only do it once."



Edited by Jacinda, Jul 9 2018, 05:36 PM.

Jacinda couldn't help the chill that ran up her spine. And then, realized she wasn't sure why. It's not like she hadn't hunted any number of what people called monsters. And yes, during the hunt, there was fear- terror even. A lot of it. But along with that came the adrenaline. The pleasure of the contest. The sense of power and- especially- victory, at the end.

But this was different. Hosteen was old- at least in his 60s if not older. Hunters did not often die peacefully in their sleep. All of which was another way of saying that this man had seen a lifetime of hunts and creatures.

And still, he was wary, his talk of evil cloaking everything in a shadow. It was something she had never experienced before.

No matter how bad it might have been at the time- how pants-shittingly terrifying it might have been- Atharim usually traded stories of their hunts with pleasure and bravado, playing up the size of a roug, the viciousness of a pack of chupes, the alienness of a person under the control of the wefuke, and most of all, the carnage of the fights. Camaraderie and competition all in one.

But no one ever spoke in hushed tones or held back, not that she remembered.

The unspoken hung in the air over everything, though Hosteen seemed at ease with it. At least, he didn't fidget or seem nervous.

He offered her some of the mutton stew. Jacinda realized she hadn't eaten in hours and she was hungry. She agreed and then, while he spooned up a bowl, excused herself to use one of the bedrooms to remove the flannels underneath her clothing. It wasn't likely that they would be going outside this evening anyway.

The bedroom must have been belonged to Jill. Definitely a woman's room. Small twin bed, nightstand with a lamp next to it. A picture of a woman- maybe in her 40s- smiling. The resemblance probably meant her mother. There was a dresser with a jewelry box on it, along with various carvings.

Jacinda picked one of them up. It looked like juniper- smelled like it. A branch, an eagle flying past. The intricacy of the work was what struck her. The feathers looked individually carved, the wings stretched in flight, as if it had been frozen in a dive zipping by the branch. Beautiful. Alive.

Another, the bark all removed to reveal pale yellow, an inlay of two wolves bounding through the snow, haunches bunched, reading to jump. The lolling tongues spoke of play, rather than hunt.

There was a knock at the door and Jacinda was startled and put the piece down as it opened. She turned to see Jill with a towel and wash cloth.

Her eye flicked from the things on the dresser to Jacinda, though with what, she did not know. "Here. You will need this."
For some reason, Jacinda felt guilty, as if she had been snooping.

She looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. These are beautiful."


Jill regarded her for a moment, her black eyes hiding what she was thinking. Finally, she nodded, setting the towel on the bed. "You can stay in here. I will sleep elsewhere."


Jacinda felt horrified. "NO!"
she said in a shout and then felt embarrassed. Loudness just did not seem to fit this house. More quietly. "No. Please. The couch will be fine. Or even the floor. I have camped out many times. I do simple just fine."


Something flashed in Jill's eyes, though she had no clue what it was. It was gone so quickly she could have imagined it. "Please, it's fine."


Jill finally nodded. "Would you like help bringing in your things?"
Jacinda was about to shake her head but stopped. She knew she had put her foot in her mouth- maybe offended her by rejecting her offer of hospitality. She could carry her bags. She didn't travel heavy.

Instead, she said "Yes. Thank you. It's only a few bags, but I appreciate it."
She thought she caught a ghost of a smile on Jill's face.

They put on their boots and went outside. It was freezing, the cold wind cutting through her ears and hair, beating her face, slashing through Jacinda's jeans and making her wish she had kept her flannels on for this part at least. Ahh, suck it up.  Wasn't like she was gonna sleep out here. Or that she hadn't spent many other nights sleeping out in the cold.

Despite that, the cold night air was refreshing. And in the dark, the night sky opened up to her in a way that was very different from back home. There was no range of mountains jutting up to hide part of the sky protectively. No glow of city lights to drown out the stars.

The Milky Way lived up to its name, like someone spilled a pail of milk across the sky. She'd seen it many times, but the desert always had a way of making it stand out. Maybe it was the clear air, or the absence of any clouds tonight. The moon was gone too. Whatever it was, it was unavoidable.

She was standing by her vehicle looking up. Jill looked at her and then looked up. She didn't say anything for a while. Then "Yikáísídáhí"
Jacinda looked over at her.

"What?"


Jill looked her her, voice coming from her shadowed face. "The Milky Way. Yikáísídáhí. 'It waits for Dawn'. Changing Woman taught us to pray each morning, sprinkling the tádídíín, the corn pollen, as an offering. She scattered the tádídíín across the sky to remind us. Each night, we see it and remember, for the coming dawn."


Jacinda wanted to say something. Only she didn't know what. This place was alien to her. She knew she had already offended her once. And for some reason, she didn't want to do it again. They did have a job to do, after all. And she had no idea how long she'd be here.

"That's beautiful."
And then, words spent, she got out her bags. In the cab light, she saw Jill's eyes shining, studying her. She handed one to her and took the other.

They went back inside and placed the bags by the couch. The warmth of the room enfolded her. They had been out longer than she expected.

And a steaming bowl of mutton stew sat on the table, potatoes, sage, pieces of meat and fat glistening and calling temptingly. She wasn't sure what the tradition was. She said thank you and then fell to eating, though not ravenously. Jill was making space around the couches, making a bit more room for her, getting pillows and blankets and making up a bed.

Hosteen had disappeared into the back room.

Stomach satisfied and warm, she took the bowl and washed it out, placing it in the rack. Jill was just finishing up and Hosteen came back into the room.

They all sat down.


Edited by Jacinda, Jul 11 2018, 11:15 AM.

God, this was so frustrating. She didn't get all the constant quiet and waiting. But she refused to let on to the fact that she was tired of it. Inside she screamed Get to the goddamn point!

Finally (finally) Hosteen spoke. His voice was quiet but firm. "They are called yee naaldlooshii. 'By it, they go on all fours.' The People think them to be witches using evil medicine. 'By such medicine, they become animals.'"


Jill looked uncomfortable. Disgust laced his voice. "And there are fools who pretend to be skinwalkers. Twist our songs and ceremonies, degrade what is sacred, pollute the land. Wearing animal skins they sneak about, using fear and hate as tools of power and control. Scaring away sheepherders from pasture grounds or people from homes and wells. And for far darker reasons. Sometimes even murder."
His mouth twisted in distaste. No. It was more than that. Whoever these people were, Hosteen hated them deeply.

"Weak. Evil. But they are not and have never been the true yee naldlooshii. Skinwalkers have been here for centuries, if not longer. From before the time we came into our land of the Dinétah bounded by the four sacred mountains. From before the time the Kitsʼiil say our people came from the cold north. The stories in the Diné Bahaneʼ speak of dreaded monsters in the land. We of the Kitsʼiil, the Atharim, know these are but distortions of the creatures we hunt."
He paused, mouth tight. "And the Skinwalkers are the worst.'


His voice had been dry, and at first she expected a simple history lesson. Or perhaps a rundown of strengths and weaknesses; hunting styles and vulnerabilities. And yet his thin voice, as parched as the land, the look in his eyes, set deep in ancient caves, his slow rhythmic recitation, colored with the faintest hint of memory- well, despite neither knowing nor caring much about the lore of Atharim or where their prey came from, Jacinda found herself pulled in. And more than that.

For the first time in years she felt fear.

She looked from Hosteen to Jill. Jill was silent but watching her with those enigmatic eyes. Studying her reaction? Her fear? Her courage? No way of knowing.

She felt a burrowing of....something in her gut. Her eyes became distant. "I have hunted every kind of prey there is between western Canada and Mexico. Rougs. Chupes. Dreyken. Wolfkin. Even Wefuke. I'm not sure why a Skinwalker would be any worse then any of them."


Jill smirked, and flicked her eyes from her to her father's and Jacinda's feeling became full blown irritation. She hated when people condescended to her. Hosteen laughed and Jacinda's irritation blazed into anger and embarrassment. But she bit her tongue and let her face go to stillness. She would not bluster like a petulant child.

"You are Regan's niece."
At her look,  the humor in his voice disappeared and he smiled at her kindly. His voice followed suit. "I mean no disrespect, my daughter. Just that nothing seemed to scare him off. That can be a good trait to have. But be careful. Do not let the drums of pride drown out the voice of your instinct and your fear. Fear is our heart's way of telling us something is wrong or that we are in danger."


She opened her mouth and then shut it. She looked at Jill and at least the smirk was gone. And then his words sunk in and she stopped and thought. It did make sense. When she really listened to her instinct, took all the information available from the terrain, from reports, examined her feelings, even her fear, it all coalesced for her. But she had to be quiet to do so.

She nodded, her voice more moderate. "Ok. So why are Skinwalkers so dangerous?"
She was actually curious. If this was her prey, she needed to understand.

His eyes narrowed and voice dropped to a whisper. "Imagine a prey that can take the form of anything. Any person. Any animal."
He paused, in emphasis. "Any.Creature.


Her eyes went wide and she took a sharp breath as understanding came to her. "How!?"
was all she could say.

Edited by Jacinda, Jul 11 2018, 07:38 PM.

Hosteen licked his lips, looking at Jill and then Jacinda in turn. His lips twisted in distaste for a moment. "Skinwalkers kill and consume living things. They feed on them. Animal. Man. Anything of flesh. But in doing so, somehow, they can take the form of it. We can only hope that it is just the form and nothing else. Especially that it is not any of their abilities."


He didn't look all that certain.

The room was truly silent now. Jacinda could envision it. Tracking one of these would be difficult. You might be on its trail as a wolf or a man and then you encounter it as a harpy or drainaka. Or even something as innocent as a an old woman.

Jill must have had the same train of thought. Her voice was soft, unsteady. "Is there a way to recognize them?"


He hesitated, opened his mouth, then paused, chewing on his words. "The truth is, it depends. They always have the same size. They can't change that. When the people have seen them from a distance, they have looked like large dogs or wolves or coyotes with especially long legs. But if they take the form of a man or woman, you would not know. As an oni they would look small."


Jacinda felt a bit of relief, but that was dashed away all in the next moment. "In whatever form, though, they are deadly. If you are close enough to truly recognize them, it is too late for you."


She was going to ask a question, but Jill jumped in. "Where do they come from?"
Jacinda thought the question odd. Who cared? Where did any of the things they hunted come from? They were. That's all that mattered. But she didn't say anything.

Hosteen sighed and shook his head. "I do not know. They were here when we arrive in this land. The Hopi know of them."
For some reason, the name was filled with contempt. "They have their own stories. The Utes too. Apaches. Others."
He shrugged.

Silence. Again. Only this time, it was palpable. Despite his calm, Hosteen was clearly uncomfortable speaking of this. Well, they had a job to do. Jacinda cut the silence. "Sooooo.....How do we kill 'em?"
she asked cheerily.

And despite everything, Hosteen laughed. This time Jacinda didn't feel embarrassed. The laugh was not cruel. It was hearty and there was warmth in it. Maybe even appreciation. She looked at Jill and saw a grin. It was the first time she'd seen her smile. It lit up the room. She should do that more often.

Jacinda felt a smile spread across her face as well. Maybe it was just everyone cutting the tension with laughter. Release. Whatever it was, Jacinda was glad of it. She kept Jill's gaze for a moment, shrugging slightly as if to say 'Hey, I can't help it.'

Hosteen answered. "They are flesh and blood. They can be killed, though not easily. They are no tougher than oni, really. The danger is their ability to get close to you without you knowing."


Jacinda nodded. Ok. This was something she was interested in. Evidently, Jill felt the same. "Where do we begin, father?"


He nodded, becoming somber. "Over the last year, I have been called on to do four singings. Hózhóojí, The Blessing Way. Anaa'jí, The Enemy Way. Hozho needed to be restored, evil driven away. Four deaths. Four bodies chewed on. Four. A sacred number. And I knew something was wrong. I asked and they answered. Yee naaldlooshii were seen in the form of a bear and a wolf. And..."
his voice became still, "in the form of the dead person."


Any humor that had been left fled. Jill and Hosteen seemed frozen. Jill nodded slowly, swallowing. Jacinda didn't understand. He had said they take the form of whatever they kill. So it wasn't exactly a surprise they look like the dead person.

Still, she kept her mouth shut, letting whatever was going on between them finish. Well, she meant to. It just stayed quiet for so long that finally Jacinda had to speak. "Ok. Well, that's where we'll start."


Mercifully, that seemed to break the spell. Jill nodded more forcefully. A small smile returned to Hosteen's face. "Good."
" He seemed glad it was done. He stood with a sigh, stretching out his back. "I need sleep. It has been a long day. Good night."
He went to his daughter and said something to her before kissing her on the cheek lightly.

Jacinda rose and took her cup to the kitchen to wash it. Jill went to the stove and put the rest of the stew into a storage container. While she was bent over putting that into the refrigerator, Jacinda reached around and took the pot from the counter and began washing it as well. "You don't have to do that,"
she said quietly.

Jacinda twisted around, her hands sudsy and wet and flashed her a smile. "It's ok. If I'm gonna be here a while, I gotta kick in the with the chores."


Jill smiled back. Not as large as before. But there was more warmth than at the beginning. She nodded. They were quiet as they cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. It wasn't big and they were sometimes in each other's way but she didn't mind. It had been a long time since she'd been around other people. She liked the closeness.

And she didn't mind the quiet either. Not this time.

When she was done, Jacinda went to her bags and got out a pair or sweats and a t-shirt. She changed in the bathroom and washed her face. Patting her face dry, she looked at herself in the mirror, studying. She was 30 years old. It seemed strange to realize that. Her face was still fresh looking, though maybe a bit more weathered than when she was a girl.

On her own for 10 years. In hindsight, she was proud of herself. She had been a child when Regan had been killed. Didn't know anything. And, she admitted, there was still a lot she didn't know. But she had survived. Not only that, thrived. Mostly, anyway. Being a hunter was a lonely life. There were the occasional teams she worked with. But they were usually already formed. Or those that might have been partners were called away. Seth was like that, suddenly becoming daddy to his niece Rune.

In the end, always temporary. Never any room for her. Oh well.

She opened the door and walked down the hall. Jill's door was open. She was sitting on her bed in her own pair of sweats. And her hair was loose and free as she combed it. She almost looked like a different person. Relaxed. Happy. At peace.

Jacinda smiled at her and it was returned. "Good night,"
was all she said, before heading for the couch. The snap and crackle of the logs in the furnace were comforting as she drifted off to sleep.

Jacinda never slept too deeply no matter where she was. Well, maybe if she had too much to drink, but that had happened only a few times. She really didn't like the feeling of being out of control. Which was to say, she really wasn't much of a partier, as things went.

Generally, she was always alert. The sounds of feet in the kitchen, the clink of glasses, the shhhh of water, woke her, but she recognized them for what they were and drifted off again. The couch was comfortable and the heat from the wood stove wasn't stifling. She was cozy, wrapped in her blankets. A nice cocoon. It had been a while since she'd felt this at home.

The drip of the coffee maker was what drew her out of her sleep, though. She sat up, stretched arms and legs and torso, felt that delicious sensation in her back, down deep in her glutes and legs and calves, her shoulders and neck. It was her every day routine, and she relished the sensual experience.

The blinds were closed, but she could see the pink of dawn along the edges of the window panes. The smell of the coffee began to fill the air and she inhaled deeply, feeling her brain shift into gear. She remembered something she'd read not long ago. Don't ever let anyone tell you that fairy tales aren't real. I drink a potion made from magic beans every day, and it brings me back to life. It always made her laugh.

She shifted herself off the couch and stood, stretching again. Hosteen was the one in the kitchen. "You kids,"
he said with a smile. "That couch would kill my back if I slept on it."
He laughed. "Don't get old, girl."


Jacinda laughed. "Ok. I won't, I promise,"
and winked at him. She got sore from a good workout or a strenuous hunt, but that was about it. Getting old was not something she really worried about.

She got a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom. She emerged from the bathroom dressed, though her hair was still damp. She dried it the best she could, combed it out, and put it in a pony tail. When she came out to the kitchen, Jill was seated at the table, her hair in a pony tail too, though she was still in her sleep clothes.

Another woman was there too, older than Jill and her by maybe 10 years. The resemblance was enough, naming her her sister. But where Jill seemed at peace and relaxed, though, a grimace marred this woman's face. Made sense. Her husband dead. Now a single mom. Probably up all night crying. Jacinda gave her a kind smile.

Her voice quiet, she said, "Hi. I'm Jacinda. I'm very sorry for your loss."
For some reason, the woman just looked at her, studying her, eyes narrowed. Jacinda held her gaze, unsure what was going on.

Finally, "Sari."
There was no friendliness in it. Jacinda understood. She was an outsider and this was her time of grief. The accident had probably happened after the call went out for a hunter. Jacinda had been traveling for a couple of days, after all. Still, the woman looked at Jill too, studying her as well, and her face didn't change. If anything, she clenched her jaw. Odd.

Well, family dynamics wasn't something Jacinda really understood. She was never around anyone that long. At least not since Regan. After him, most men just didn't seem very real.  She pushed away the memory that came up with his name.

Jill went to a cabinet and got mug, pouring a cup. "Did you sleep well?"
Jacinda was glad for the question.

"Yeah. Very good."
Jacinda was surprised when she handed the mug to her, and her eyebrows raised."Thanks."


Jill smiled. "No problem."


Sari moved her chair back and stood. "I should get to the girls before they wake up."
She gave Hosteen a kiss, her sister a warning look and ignored Jacinda completely as she slipped on her shoes and headed out the door.

That was weird.

The rest of the morning was uneventful. After breakfast, Jill went and got herself ready while Jacinda folded the sheets and blankets and made the living room a living room again.

When Jill came out, she was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a tucked in green flannel shirt, white shirt underneath. She looked like a hunter, fit and solid. It was a good look on her.

Stepping outside, the cold hit her, but it was refreshing. Mist feathered her breath. Snow had fallen again last night, hiding the churned up mud from the ceremony the day before. The ground was frozen solid too. In the distance, the monuments stood, lit by the newly rising sun, stark white against bright red rocks.

She opened the door of the 4 Runner and started it, got the heat going as well as the defrost.

After throwing her stuff in the back, Jill got one side of the windshield scraped clean of ice while she got the other. The cold had started to seep in by that time, and she was thankful the heater had warmed up the inside when they got in.

"Ok. Where do we go first?"


Jill pulled a paper from her bag- a hand drawn map. The scrawled handwriting was thin and shaky. Probably drawn by Hosteen. Still, it was readable enough. Locations of where the deaths had occurred.

Her slender finger pointed to one. "Here. This is the closest. Shirleen Begaye."
She looked at Jacinda for a moment. "Listen. If we need to talk to someone, let me do it. Navajos are suspicious of outsiders. Especially when it comes to things like this."
Jacinda remembered Jill and Hosteen last night.

She nodded her head. Made sense. Let her do the talking. She didn't have any great skill in that area, after all. She wasn't sure how good Jill was in the actual hunt anyway. How often she and her husband had gone together, she didn't know. She needed to get a feel for this woman and her abilities.


Edited by Jacinda, Jul 16 2018, 08:06 PM.

Jacinda laughed to herself as the hours passed on their way to Shirleen Begay's home. This is the closest? Jeez! The ride was rough going too. Not just because of rutted roads and washes, either. Obviously, this route wasn't traveled often. A couple fresh tracks through the snow was her only guide.

The ride was in four wheel drive and did alright. Only a couple times did it get bogged down. Which meant getting out the shovels and clearing around the tires. She was wishing she'd put her chains on, but Jill came to the rescue. She put on some gloves and took her knife and cut bunches of sage brush. Clever woman. Jacinda did the same and using the shovel, they wedged them under the tires. It gave enough traction to get them going again.

It was mostly small talk, in the cab. Kinds of hunts Jill had been on. Not many, but that was ok. In fact, it was kind of impressive. Not terribly experienced but willing to go on a hunt like this. Reading between the lines, Jacinda got the impression that her mother hadn't been too keen on letting her go off with her dad. Very traditional.

Which explained Sari a bit, at least in her mind. Old school. And the culture was matriarchal. Hosteen might have wanted to take his daughters but mom said no. End of story.

As the vehicle rocked back and forth, she asked. "And your husband? How'd you meet? High school sweet hearts?"
she said with a smile.

Jill quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "No. I didn't date much in high school. His father and mine were friends. After my mother died, my father started teaching me. And I got to go on a few hunts. Little things, you know. Exploring mesas and caves, mostly, to check out things people claimed to have seen. And we talked. And he was nice. A good friend."
She wore a small smile at the memory.

Jacinda thought about Regan. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring up bad memories."


Jill looked at her and she didn't seem overly sad. "No. It's good to remember. He let me be myself. Didn't demand anything from me. It was nice."
Jacinda didn't know what to say about that. Regan had run her life. And since then, well, she never really let anyone get too close. Or maybe it was just her. She didn't know. It was interesting though. Only recently did she finally feel settled in her skin. Even liked herself. But she was mostly alone. Not like anyone demanded anything of her in that state.

Well, if she was ok..."How did he die? If you don't mind."


Jill was quiet for a moment. "Cancer. It was quick. Diagnosed and dead within six months."


Wow. "I'm sorry."


Jill shrugged resignedly. "Yeah. It was hard. He was my best friend. And I was his."
She paused, as if unsure whether to go on. "It was about friendship, with us. No one is going to make any movies about it."
Both of them laughed at that. "But it was nice. Going to live with my father, to help my sister, after, well..."
She trailed off, but her voice made it clear there was  difference.

Jacinda got it. Stifled. Then free. And now back in a box. She knew the box. She'd lived in it for many years. Until she had been set free. Or cast away. Always so confusing, thinking about that time.

"There," she pointed. They had gotten through the canyon to the other side of the mesa and now a large mountain loomed in the far distance. "Navajo Mountain. We're nearly to the Begaye's. The others are further south west on the back way to Lake Powell."


Jacinda nodded. It had been 3 hours so far. Her ass was getting sore from the bouncing around. And she wanted to stretch. All the driving over the last week was getting to her.

When they finally arrived, it was to a group of homes, similar to Jill's- government issue, probably- and a hogan. A pack of dogs came up, sniffing the tires and peeing. They both got out, but Jacinda hung back. Jill waited until the door opened. A little woman with her hair tied back and shielding her eyes stepped out. She wore a pleated light blue crushed velvet dress, a darker blue button down, and a turquoise necklace. Jill went forward.

"Ya'at'eeh. Shí éí Jill Benally yinishyé. Tódích’íí’nii nishłį́. Hashk’aan Hadzohí bashishchiin. Tł’ááshchí’í dashicheii. Hooghanłání dashinalí. Tsé Biiʼ Nidzisgaii déé’ naashá."


The woman nodded and looked at Jacinda. Jill spoke again and in a thin reedy voice the woman said "Wóshdę́ę́'" before turning into the hogan.

Jill said "I introduced myself and gave my clans. She invited us in."


The inside of the hogan was spacious. No separate rooms, but livable. The heat coming from the stove was strong, as was the smell of ceder. The logs looked freshly trimmed. Along the wall was a loom where a rug was being made. Wool, looked like, the weaving intricate. She'd always liked those. The patterns were symmetrical and detailed, in variation of black, white, turquoise and yellow.

The woman gestured for them to sit in the chairs near the kitchen table and the wood stove that probably doubled for cooking. She sat back on a rug and began weaving again.

She and Jill spoke at length, which of course Jacinda didn't understand. She watched the woman work, fascinated. The pattern continued to grow. Suddenly it occurred to her that the woman was doing this from memory. There was no paper or schematic or whatever you called it for her to use. Amazing.

She got the sense that they were discussing her at one point. She heard the word bilagáana. Caucasian. Jill seemed to smooth things over, though.

Finally, Jill stood and shook the woman's hand gently. "Ahéhee' shi ma."
Jacinda did the same, merely saying thank you in English.

When outside, Jill explained. "Shirleen was her sister. She told me where the body was found and what she saw- after I told her who I was- who my father is. We have permission to go check it out. It is mostly undisturbed except for where the EMTs took her. And the police examined a bit. Looked like a bear attack to everyone, after all. "
She paused, as if confessing something. "Well...death is a very sensitive subject for us. It disturbs the Hozho, the harmony and balance in nature. Bad energies and spirits are thought to feed off of that chaos. It more than bothers us. Fear, terorr of the dead is very ingrained into my people. It's why just the idea of skinwalkers has so much power over people."


Honestly, Jacinda was surprised. Not at what she said. That made sense to her. She didn't fear the dead, but she got how others could. Especially if there really were skinwalkers. A wefuke would probably be just as terrifying. No, what surprised her was how different Jill seemed. Maybe Jacinda had passed a test or something. Or maybe it was being out and exploring. But she was talking a lot more.

Either way. Jacinda liked it. She was interesting.

The ride to the place wasn't far. They got out. The fresh snow covered over it all. But in another way, that was good. The icy ground had preserved the prints of everyone and everything that was here. They could use brush to clear away the newly fallen snow to see underneath.

Before they did, though, Jacinda stopped, closed her eyes to get a feel of the place, expanding her senses. When she opened her eyes, Jill was looking at her, puzzled. Jacinda winked at her and then slowly turned in a full circle, to really see the land the way their prey might.

It took a few minutes for her mind to quiet and focus. Longer than normal. She was too aware of the other woman's gaze.


Edited by Jacinda, Jul 18 2018, 05:25 PM.

The icy breezy made her ears cold. Eh. She'd live. She was glad to be bundled up. And she was in the zone now. First they needed to clear the snow. Thankfully, the ground was frozen so that nothing would be ruined.

She went to one of the sage brushes and cut some branches. Jill followed, doing the same. Carefully, they brushed away the snow. At least it wasn't thick. They started from the center, working their way out. Despite the cold, she felt herself sweating into her thermals from the work. Not hard, but she was bundled up. The cold on her face became refreshing.

They didn't talk as they worked, though Jacinda was very much aware of her. Finally, a circle maybe twenty feet in diameter was cleared. She studied the space, letting her mind wander, feeling it out. Foot prints covered the ground, along with marks of where a stretcher had been. A slight large discoloration in the dirt indicted where the body had been.

Gradually, patterns began to form, prints of the same size or depth came together, until each of them resolved into a different person. Now she could follow them. The tracks near the stretcher led off past the cleared space to what even the snow couldn't hide as tire tracks. Ambulance. EMTs. Smaller prints had dipped into the place where the body was but then hung back near the edges.

She glanced at Jill, remembered what she said. The family that discovered her. Their feelings about death. She saw what was probably police, bigger, taller men, but even they were hesitant, near the body.

And she saw something else. Bear prints. But smaller, more refined. The depression was not deep either. It clearly had been at the body, the discoloration pattern of the blood consistent with sloppy feeding.

Then it turned, its prints leaving the cleared area. Jacinda followed, using the brush to clear a path, finding each step. Jill was next to her, pausing to look at each newly discovered step. They trekked for what seemed at least an hour. It had not been  running.

And then they disappeared. Jacinda went back to the last print, frowning, and cleared a larger area. Gone. Not a bear print in sight.

Instead, there was something else. A naked human foot print.

"Fuck me..."
she whispered. She looked at Jill. The woman was staring at hard, her hand clenching the brush tightly.

A whisper. "I knew it was real....but still."
She looked at Jacinda and there was fear in her eyes. "You grow up with the stories as a kid. Ghost stories we'd tell each other at night around the fire or in our beds. Even when you knew they were exaggerated, when you knew the truth..."


Her words trailed off. Jacinda nodded. "Yeah. I get it. You still wanna do this?"


She didn't mean any insult but anger flashed in Jill's eyes. "I will not run."


Jacinda put out a hand, touched her arm. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just..."
Words left her. She decided to be honest. "I'm a little scared. But yeah, we have a job to do."
She squeezed Jill's arm slightly and then let it drop.

The anger faded from her face and she nodded. "Me too. Ok."


Jacinda knew they needed to work. Work got your mind off of things. Having something to do. "Well let's keep tracking it At least for a while. Then get the car. It'll be slower doing it that way, but I'm freezing my ass off."


Jill laughed, made a point to look. "Nah. It's still there. But I'll make sure it doesn't go anywhere."


Banter. Jokes. It always helped. The stupid emotions- the fear, the worry- all that stuff got pushed in the background. Still there, of course. Fear was useful. But you had to ride it, not let it ride you.

They continued on their way.

They followed for maybe ten more minutes, then trekked back to get the ride. She was definitely cold now. Her nose and cheeks were red, she was sure. Jill looked no worse for wear. Jacinda couldn't tell if she wore any leggings or thermals under her jeans despite how tight they were. Well, she was a bit younger than Jacinda. And she'd probably lived here her whole life.

Inside, Jacinda fired it up and then cranked up the heat, rubbing her hands together. Jill didn't get in right away, instead going to the chest in the back seat. She returned with two travel mugs and a thermos.

"Ok woman, I officially love you,"
she said, holding a mug while Jill poured. Jill was startled for a moment, then gave small laugh. Jacinda thought of saying something, but left it alone. The smell of the coffee filled the cab, its heat leeching through the sides of the mug and warming her hands.

Both of them sipped in silence for a moment, warming from the inside and out. Once she was good, she put the mug in the carrier. "It's gonna be bitch going back out. But let's see if we can track it."


What took them an hour to walk was only a ten minute drive, though they did bounce about. At least they didn't get stuck. They found the spot they had left off at and got out.

A little more tracking sent them in the right direction. Clear, search. Clear. Search. Slow going. They were both quiet. Very likely the skinwalker was not anywhere near. But when you hunted you were quiet. Always.

And so it went. They'd go a few hundred yards, go back to the car, move up, and start over again. At least it looked like it was heading a single direction.

Up ahead, the ground began to give way to a sheet of rock slopping upward, two large humps sitting atop. It was maybe 30 feet high and probably a half mile if they walked all the way around.


She looked at the rock and then at Jill. "Shit."


Jill put her hands on her hips and looked around in every direction. "Now what?"


"Well we can look around at least. follow the edges of the rock. See if the tracks start up again. Something, anyway."


"I can go around one way and you the other," Jill offered.

Jacinda shook her head. "Probably better to stay together. If this thing can become us, we'd never know before it was too late. Plus, two pairs of eyes are better than one."


Jill nodded, motioning her to lead the way.

Which is exactly what they did. And they didn't find a thing. Oh, there were tracks, yes. But not human. Coyote. Bear. Wolf.

At the wolf's, Jill crouched down. "Look at that," she said, putting her fingers in the depression. "It's deep. Heavy."


Jacinda looked at her, understanding, nodding. "Let's go see," she said grimly. They walked onto the rock, exploring. The mounds were not perfectly round or consistent. There were cuts, even what might be considered a cave, though very narrow. She pulled out a light and shined it in. "Damn."


She moved back, handing the light to Jill. She looked, then turned to look at Jacinda, face flat. "If it's a wolf now, tracking it under the snow will be harder. Especially if it is running."


She nodded. "You're not kidding." The sun was low, now, painting the sky a mix of red and yellow and orange and blue. "We should make camp here. Start fresh in the morning."


Jacinda could see the brief look of fear on her face. She understood. That thing could come back. But Jill smoothed over immediately with one of determination.

Jacinda smiled, impressed.

They went back to the vehicle drove it up into the rock floor. Then they cleared a large place. Jill got the food kits and water pot out while Jacinda scrounged for old dry wood- well, dry enough, anyway- and then, using rocks, created a circle about five feet from the truck. Magnesium shavings would get a it hot enough to burn the damp wood. And she had survival fuel pellets too, if there wasn't enough.

The sun was nearly down by the time the fire was burning hot. Camping chairs sat on either side of the fire and next to the truck. The water pot sat on a small metal grate balanced on the rocks, steam starting to drift up from its mouth. A coffee pot also perched on the grate. Jill had poured the contents of each of their kits into large bowls. They could have eaten out the bag- Jacinda would have- but this was fine. "You want the Pasta with Chicken or Noodles with Beef?"


They sat in their chairs, their mugs already in the the drink holders. Jacinda's gun and rifle was next to her within easy reach.

"Chicken, please." Jacinda handed her the
bowl.

Jacinda took the other. When the water was boiling, she took the pot, filled Jill's bowl, then her own. Jill poured the coffee.

They both fell to eating, the food warm and delicious as it went into their bellies. There was little talking, for now. Once they were done, they both cleaned up and put the supplies away- except for the coffee.

Jacinda felt the call and paused, shaking her head with a smile, rolling her eyes. "So...as I said, we should stay together. Which complicates things when either of us needs to use the can."


Jill gave her a flat stare and raised an eyebrow. Jacinda shrugged with a half-smirk. "Hey. Not like I'm saying one watches the other."
Jill chuckled. "Let's designate one of these bigger shrubs over there as the jon. And the rule is, you gotta whistle or sing or talk or something. Ok?"


Jill laughed, rolling her eyes. "Oh god."


Jacinda stood, grabbing a shovel. "And now you get to hear my wonderful singing voice. Have any requests?"


Jill laughed again. "Country. Extra thick accent."
Well, what could Jacinda do? She did her best, that was all.

Washed up, she sat back down. The mood was light, perhaps aggressively so. Probably kept them from thinking about what was out there.

She looked at her weapons, then raised an eyebrow to Jill. They still needed to work out their strategy. Their plans.


Edited by Jacinda, Aug 1 2018, 05:27 PM.

Jill and Jacinda talked for awhile. She knew the basics, which was good. Not as much as Jacinda, but then again, she had at least a good 10 years experience on her, in that regard.

Still, in the end, they were tracking a skinwalker who could change shapes at regular intervals. Jill had found the too big and too heavy paw print. They'd have to follow that until it disappeared. And then, scout around for anything new from the same time period. And then, see if any corresponding bodies were found. One two three.

The conversation wound down. The crackle of the wood burning was all there was. It was cold- that air respected nothing and had its fun swirling around ears and neck- and yet was warm, this close to the fire.

Jacinda looked over across the fire to her. She seemed content. "So....normally I'd say we both take turns keeping watch while the other sleeps. But with the..." she didn't say the name. She'd gotten enough of the hint at how scary this all was for her. If Hosteen was this spooked...knowing what it was, well- "thing out there doing what it can, I suggest we both bed down in the forerunner. We can each take a row. The alarm will be armed and so will we." She grinned maliciously. "Let's see it take on two badass chicks ready for it."

Jill smiled at that.

Fire doused, business done- Jill decided on some kind of rap for her turn, which made Jacinda laugh- they climbed into the vehicle. First and foremost, weapons were checked. Loaded, primed, ready and accessible. Then they each climbed into their sleeping bags. It would get cold. But the vehicle's metal shell would be way better than a tent cloth.

Jacinda lay there for a while, trying to sleep. She was too keyed up, though. Questions about the skinwalkers came to mind but she doubted that would help Jill.

Evidently, Jill felt the same. From the row behind her, she heard, "I kind of lied. My husband was my best friend. Grayson Yellowhorse. He was a good man. And a good Ki'itsil. I miss him. But....we were different."

Okay. Maybe Jacinda had been nodding off a little. Jill's comments seemed to come out of the blue. Had they been talking about that? Vaguely she had some memory. Or maybe not. Either way Jill wanted to talk and that was fine. As alone as Jacinda generally was, she enjoyed conversation.

The silence grew. Maybe she expected something. Finally, "I get it. Regan wasn't my uncle, as you father thinks. He was more like my....man. I learned everything from him." Disquieting memories were packaged away. "To be honest, I don't know that I'll ever meet anyone like him. I miss him too."

Jill said nothing for a time. Enough that Jacinda may have nodded off. Still, Jill's words made sure she heard. Even if she whispered. "We were both trapped. Tradition is still strong here. And father and mother are older. Were older. Sari seems old too. They just..." She sighed. "Together, Grayson and I were free to be who we were. And no one asked questions. It wasn't perfect. But it was better than the alternative."

Jacinda didn't quite understand and was unsure how to ask. Somehow Jill seemed to sense it. "We could cover for each other. Keep each other safe. At least while at home."

She thought about it. Somehow pieces clicked. And her heart broke. That in itself surprised her. Regan was a racist, though Mom and Dad had already helped her enough to ignore that part of his attitude. His feelings towards the "homos and lesbos" wasn't hidden either, though. And she realized Mom and Dad hadn't ever really broached the subject with her.

And yet somehow, on her own, she knew her own feelings. That it didn't bother her in the slightest. Love was love.

Her voice was soft. "It sounds lonely. For both of you." There was maybe more she could say. More she should say. But heart to hearts weren't things she knew how to do. She sat up and looked over the bench seat, seeing Jill's eyes shining in the darkness. On impulse, she reached out a hand to her. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Jill looked at her and then took her hand and squeezed it with a slight smile. Jacinda smiled at her encouragingly.

She squeezed back once to make it clear, and then let go, laying back and getting comfortable. "Alright. We need sleep. I need your super duper tracker eyes at 200% tomorrow, if we're gonna find this thing. Let's sleep."

Jill chuckled and that was it. Still, Jacinda didn't fall asleep right away. She wondered. Trapped. She'd been trapped. Course that was over 10 years ago. No one told her what to do now. Not for a long while. She did what she wanted when she wanted. Felt what she wanted.

Jill was 28. It made her feel sad.