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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.