Skinwalker

Girl of Sandy Terrain

The Maid who became a Bear walks far around,

On the Black Mountain she walks around,

In beauty she walks,

Far around in beauty she walks.

Far spreads the land,

It seems not far to her.

Dim shows the land,

It seems not dim to her.

Ina Sizer Cassidy

My Amá, Mother, says I came from coyote laughs and eagle feathers. Her winds guide my wings and fill my howls. I cower when she angers. Hurling icy storms from the North, choking my adolescent protests with tear-jerking whorls. However, today she is kind. Smiling on me with warm breezes that playfully lift the desert sand against my sun-warmed cheeks.

The long fingers of dawn stretch across the desert sky and alert pocket mice to return to their burrows, no longer safe from aerial eyes. Stiff from the packed earth of my hogan, my body screamed in protest from my morning movements. It seemed no matter how many pelts and feathers I collect over the years, no comfort comes to me during sleep.

There are 20 pelts for 20 years of life. My eyes drifted to the ratty pelt of a coyote laying in the far corner. For years as a child, I begged Amá to tell the story of my fur and every year she relented with a whispering sigh.

"Many moons ago, the day bowed to darkness. When the stars found that they too could shine their light upon the world during the sun's dominance, they raced across the heavens. Each competing against the other for a taste of sweet desert sand." 

My eyes widened, although knowing the story from heart, I still sat in wonder as she continued. 

"On that fateful day, a babe called to me on a southern wind. Her form human but her soul born of the wild. She had emerged from the sands, eyes big and black, and hair and skin dark like those of the Diné."

 At this point, I would interrupt with barely contained excitement. "Me!" Amá chuckled breathlessly, a waft of warmth tickling my nose.

"Her body clothed in the fur of a coyote. She yipped and nipped at my gentle gusts. At times, she shimmered like a desert mirage. One minute a babe, the next, her canine counterpart. Since my winds uncovered her form, I took her in and called her At'ééd Ba̜a̜h Nitsighas meaning girl of sandy terrain."

I ran my hands through the rusted fur. Over the years, the fur lengthened as I grew. The pelt was no longer a pup and neither was I. I slipped the hide over my shoulders and pulled the head low over my forehead. Bolting from the hogan, my hands and feet quickly became paws and fur crawled across the length of my body. I ran alongside Amá, her barreling winds causing upsurges of sand as obstacles. Yipping, my body jerked sideways, avoiding the onslaught of finely ground terrain. I let my spirit soar with the eagles, racing and dashing. Legs becoming a blur. Soon, the sand gave to sparse grasses and bowing trees. Slowing, I became hyperaware of a heard of deer across the creek. Lean necks grazing and sipping from the bubbling brook. One, in particular, carried the scent of weakness, her legs overcompensating for a dramatic limp.

I lowered to my belly. Eyes narrowed in focus. She paused from attempting to move, her breaths labored from the effort. I crept behind trees and along the grasses as the other coyotes had shown me. Tongue rolling, tasting the air for other predators. Suddenly her head jerked and eyes whitened, body dropping, legs convulsing. The others snapped into attention, spraying up sand and grasses as they darted away. I lifted my head in confusion. Not a fang nor a claw had punctured her skin, rather a stick nestled deep within her shoulder.

I jogged over to sniff its shaft. Nose running over the hawk feathers fashioned towards the end. The doe locked eyes with mine, her struggled bleating cutting through the silence. I bowed my head to her as her life slipped away.  Bare-feet, those of man, appeared beside me. Trembling, I skirted away and darted into the brush. I crawled forward, eyes curious of this creature like me.

He was tall, much taller than I. Eagle feathers decorated braids, hanging loose against buckskin wrapped around his torso. If I had seen others in my lifetime to know and compare, I would say he was beautiful. This was the first of other humans I've ever encountered. Mother greeted him first. Her gentle breeze lifting and swaying his braids as he leaned over the deer. I guess he did not understand her from his lack of response.

Carefully, he hoisted the deer over his broad shoulders, toting her towards the still figure of a horse. How did I not hear them approach? Why didn't Amá warn me? 

Becoming bold, I jogged to catch up. He looked back and shook his head, shoulders shaking in a small laugh. "Ah trickster mąʼii, coyote, are you to cause me trouble today?" He grinned and turned to fasten the deer. With little effort, he leaped upon his steed. A yip sent the horse bolting forward. Perhaps the desert sun has made me sick, but I followed. Running beside him, tongue rolling into a fearsome grin. I weaved in front and nipped at the horse's heels. I had a desire, stronger than what drove me to hunt or run. A desire to know this man. The one that looks like me with no fur, so I followed.

He rode on, laughing every once in a while at my antics. "I guess you are to cause me trouble today." He hummed, his words drifting towards my tufted ones. The only music I have ever known were the birds, sometimes Mother howled through the trees but this was different. It was as if the world stopped to hear his voice, and I was no exception.

Soon, we arrived on the outskirts of tribe territory. My courage began to slip away as he tied up and pulled the deer from his horse's back, hanging her from the hind legs on a tree branch. I skirted around anxiously, never getting close enough for a chance of capture.

He looked up in surprise, a skinning knife in hand. "I guess you believe that this should be yours." He nodded towards the deer. I stared back. He slowed, the beads along his neck slinking softly together. "Come." A simple command. I padded forward slowly, head lowered. He squatted with his hands out as if about to cup a creek for water. I placed my head in his open palms, staring up at him with black eyes. The warmth of his touch shocking me into stillness. Hi brows furrowed as he examined. "Mąʼii, your eyes are the color of night. Who are you?"

I jerked away, heart pounding. He knows. There's no way. I shifted to look at my body. It was still a coyote, but the way he held my head and questioned led me to believe he knew what I was. I whimpered and backed away, suddenly shy. He dropped his hands to his sides and stared. Could he see that I, too, wore braids and ran with feet? That I danced under the light of the moon? He wiped his hands and picked up his knife once more. I watched as he skinned the doe and with a glance in my direction, he sliced off a piece of the back strap and threw it towards me. "Keep your secrets mąʼii, but do not go hungry."

I tiptoed forward and grabbed the meat, then darted away. As the sun dipped low, I continued to watch. Lifting my head when he would walk about the hogan. When the stars peeked through and his fire roared, I continued to stare through the flames. I was careless. I had been in my fur for too long. When he looked up from his meal, I knew. My true self shimmers to the top under the moonlit sky. A girl, no, a woman crouched on all fours. Coyote pelt draped across her back and sides. A wild slip of a thing. It was only for a split second, but that's all it took.

He leaped to his feet, yelling curses. Suddenly a bow was aimed towards me. The arrowhead quivered against its holder. We continued the battle of wills. Each daring the other. Only the snap and crackle of the fire spoke. With a heaviness, I stood and backed slowly away, not breaking the eye contact. He held the arrow back, a message clearer than the dazzling yellow of a desert flower. I kill that which I don't know. The undergrowth parted to welcome their child, but my heart stayed with the man.

As I trotted back to my hogan, all I could think about was that our eyes were the same.