2031
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.