The Otter with the Warpaint

Chapter 3

Sitka had that same dream again the next night. But it was different. Longer. But she wasn’t the main view of the dream. An otter called Willow was. She had light grey fur with a black underbelly and insides of her ears. 
    Willow and several other otters stood at the entrance to a clearing. 
    “Go on, Willow,” a small brown otter commanded her from behind a tree. She went from behind the tree and walked into the clearing. She turned around to see the three other otter pups staring at her, nervous. 
    The otter pup stepped into the clearing. Grey light from the sky beamed down. The clearing was made of broken sticks and leaves. One stick stood out to her. It was placed beside a rock with moss growing on it. It read something. 
    AKTIS 
    “Akitas?” Willow was puzzled, “What does that mean?”
Something began happening. A wind whirled around the clearing in a circle, taking the leaves with it. Something rose from under the leaves and sticks. Bones. Otter’s bones.
First, four limb bones rose into the air which was followed by the spine with connected all four limbs. The ribs came next and attached to the spine. Finally, the skull rose. It connected itself to the front part of the spine. The skeleton was gently placed on the ground but wasn’t complete yet. 
The Muscle began to grow around each limb turning it pink. Then, the fur grew on top and spread around its body like a vine. But something was missing. The skull didn’t have muscle or fur. It was just bone. 
The figure grabbed something from off the ground which was a head feather and they placed it on their head. It then took its sharp claw and cut its wrist. It took a dab of blood and made four dots under its hollow eyes. It did the same with its left eye. 
Before anything else could happen, Sitka woke up.
W-what? Was that me? No. it can’t be. That was just a nightmare. She couldn’t sleep the rest of the morning so Sitka grabbed the fishing net and headed to the river. Ridge promised that he would stop by today and see her. The image of the lovely beaver flooded her mind. 
Once she arrived at the river, she cast the net into the water. Sitka lodged a part of the net under a rock to hold it. The morning air was similar to yesterdays; foggy, cold, and cloudy. The silent otter waited, curled up. 
“Sitka,” Ridge’s head popped up from the bushes across the river. The beaver came from the bushes and jumped into the river. He swam across quite swiftly and jumped onto the other side. 
“Ridge,” she was happy to see him, “I’m glad you could come.”
“Yeah, I had to sneak out quite early just to get here without anyone knowing,” Ridge explained, worried, “so, did you have any dreams last night?”
“Yes. but from another perspective though. A young otter read a strange word off of a branch and it summoned something. An otter. She had a skull face but I can't remember the rest of her appearance,” Sitka quivered. 
“It’ll be ok, Si-” he stopped. She stopped as well. In his chest, a spear was plunged through it. Blood dripped from the wound. 
“Ridge,” she held him in her arms, “It’ll be ok.” 
He shook his head. A warm tear dripped onto her shoulder. The beaver then collapsed. She let him go with tears in her eyes. 
“It was for your good, Sitka,” the rough voice of the chief spoke. She looked up at him with fury. 
“You killed him,” blood-stained her hand, “You killed the one I loved.”
“I’m sorry, Sitka,” he apologized. 
The otter then lunged at him, pinning him to the ground. She took her long white nails and tore a large gaping hole in his throat. 
He laid there, gasping for air as red blood seeped from his throat. Her sharp white teeth were placed in a grin. Why? Why was she happy?
He deserved it. The otter let the chief go and got off of him. But that didn’t satisfy her thirst for blood. She was still angry. But thrilled at the same time. 
Dusk was approaching and Sitka didn’t return home. She stayed in the forest and lurked around. Voices could be heard, calling the chief’s name and hers. She couldn’t go back home. They would kill her. 
The voices grew louder for the otters were coming closer. Sitka crawled up a low hanging tree that cascaded over the path. Minutes later, two otters came from the bushes, calling their names. 
She sat upon the branch, staring at the two otters. Her blue eyes narrowed at the two otters. 
“SITKA!” one shouted as he sniffed the ground. 
“OAK!” The otter raised his head high and scanned around. Sitka looked to the sky to see it painted pink. She turned her gaze to the otters and stood into an attack position. She waited until they came a little bit closer until she landed on the grey one. She stood on top of him to hold him down while she dealt with the otter one. Sitka slashed the throat of brown otter so she could hold him off until she killed the other one. 
She let the brown otter fall to the ground while she sank her teeth into the neck of the grey one. He screamed as he thrashed around under her jaws. His red blood dripped down his neck and onto her pathway. He then lay limp, breathing heavily. She unhooked her teeth from his neck and quickly whirled around.
The other otter was still laying there, nearly bled out. Her claws sank into his neck, slowly ripping a piece of flesh from his neck. She finished ripping the hunk of flesh with her jaws. Now, the otter was left with a gaping hole in his neck that was dripping with blood. He gasped for air. 
She held his flesh in her jaws. She carefully set it down next to his body. A white-toothed grin was spread across her face. 
Should I go home? If I clean myself up and not look like I had just murdered someone, then yes. The otter swiftly headed to the river. 
She dipped her hands into the cold river and splashed the water on the areas that her fur was stained with blood. She washed her face by dipping it into the river. After Sitka was done cleaning up, she began to head home. She grabbed the fishing net before she had left. 
It dragged behind her as she walked. How many otters are in my tribe she asked herself twenty-eight it seems but subtract four and that's twenty-two. Now, I have twenty-two otters to slaughter. Twenty-two otters that will fall under my claws. Twenty-two otters that will bleed all the blood in their body. 
She finally arrived at home. The moonlight shone down on the center of the camp. She hauled the net full of fish into her hut. Her parents were already asleep which didn’t surprise her. Sitka walked across the small space and curled up on her bed. 
Twenty-two otters to kill