The Skinwalker's Tale
The boy's birth into this world was difficult, leaving the child and mother weak and near death. They sent word to one of the nearby towns for a doctor, but the doctor would not travel to the small Navajo settlement along the base of Colorado's Hesperus Mountain.
"He is a fighter," the mother ran her hand weakly across the infant's wisps of black hair. "We will call him Ahiga."
The child's father nodded and held his wife close as she quietly slipped from this world to join her ancestors.
Ahiga grew from an infirmed infant into a healthy child, running and playing with the other Diné children in the village. They always referred to themselves as Diné, "The People." It was not until he grew older and attended a makeshift school organized by the Bureau of Indian Affairs in a local barn that he ever heard them called by the Spanish missionary word for his people, Navajo. The school's teacher, a tall, thin, bespeckled man named Ignatius Reacher, taught the children English and the Christian religion to assimilate them into the "modern world." However, in the evenings, Ahiga would sit with his father, who spoke to him in the Diné bizaad, the people's language, and passed him the oral history of their people. Ahiga listened intently as his father told him what it meant to be Diné and of the loss of his own mother in the winter after the Long Walk to Bosque Redondo when the U.S. Army forced the Diné to walk over three hundred miles from their homeland to internment camps in New Mexico. When Ahiga's father was a young man, his clan returned to their ancient land at the foot of the Hesperus Mountain, which he called Dibé Ntsaa, one of the four sacred mountains of the Diné.
Most of all, Ahiga loved to hear the stories of his grandfather's skirmishes with bands of ranchers and settlers who tried to raid Diné lands. He would beg his father to teach him how to fight and shoot.
"Ahiga, before you can become a warrior, you must come to understand Hózhó náhásdlíí, how to walk in beauty," Ahiga's father would smile and pat him on the shoulder. "When you learn to live in harmony with all living things, you will not be so eager to fight and kill unless you have no other choice."
When Ahiga was thirteen, the clan sent his father as a delegate to meet with a Northern Paiute named Wovoka, who preached that by dancing a ritual called the Ghost Dance, Native Americans could re-connect with their ancestors and the old gods to restore the tribes to greatness and end the domination of the land by white men. Ahiga's father had told the other Diné delegates that Wokova's claims were just "worthless words." However, many settlers feared that Wokova was inciting the tribes to violence and ambushed the returning delegates as they cooked their evening meal. Ahiga's father died shielding a wounded comrade from the barrage of gunfire in the night.
Not long after his father's burial, Ignatius Reacher and two men from the Bureau of Indian Affairs gathered Ahiga from his home. They put him in a covered wagon with several other children.
"You will be going to the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania," Reacher peered down through his wire-rimmed spectacles. "They will kill the Indian in you to save the man in you!"
Ahiga did not know where Pennslyvania was, but he did not like the sound of any of this. Four other boys were in the wagon with him, and all bore similar expressions of distrust except for a small Apache boy who cheerfully talked ceaselessly about how he would learn to become a hatmaker at the school.
"We must be quite the fearsome band of students to warrant such company," an older boy seated across from him with a dark splotchy birthmark across his nose noticed Ahiga suspiciously eyeing the ten blue-clad calvary men accompanying the wagon.
Ahiga smirked at the boy and nodded, then rolled his eyes as the future hatmaker shuffled down the wagon bench to sit next to him.
"Not a word; I have been listening to your hatmaker nonsense since we left New Mexico," the birthmarked boy pointed a warning finger at the young Apache before leaning in to whisper to Ahiga. "Once we get into the woods, I am going to make a run for it. Are you with me?"
"Do you think we can get past the guards?" Ahiga nodded to the disinterested-looking cavalrymen.
"I'll run through the guards if I have to," the boy grinned back at Ahiga, who returned the grin and nodded his agreement.
That night as the sun began to set and the covered wagon slowly rolled through the Weminuche Wilderness, the two boys leaped from the back of the covered wagon and ran for the safety of the woods. Thinking Ahiga was falling, the young Apache boy grabbed his arm and tumbled out the back of the cart alongside them. The cavalrymen riding lazily behind the wagon were slow to react as the two boys hit the ground and barely had time to let out shouts of alarm before they were darting past them.
"Where are you going?" the Apache boy called after them. "Why are you running?"
The aspiring hatmaker's voice gave a short cry of surprise and pain as cavalrymen from the front of the wagon came rushing to the aid of their comrades with guns drawn and trampled him under the hooves of their horses.
Ahiga and the birthmarked cut off the road and into the woods as the first crack of gunfire echoed behind them.
"Why are they shooting at us?" Ahiga felt a bullet sail past his head like an angry hornet.
"They think it's better to have a dead Indian than a free one," the boy was breathing hard as he ran alongside him.
Ahiga stopped as the boy grunted and fell, reaching a hand to help him up. Then he saw the back of the boy's shirt quickly soaking with blood, and he knew from the stillness of the body the boy was already gone. Bullets continued to whiz passed him, but the cavalrymen did not appear inclined to give chase into the darkened woods, so Ahiga crouched down behind the rotting stump of an old oak tree and waited for the gunfire to cease.
After a few minutes, the gunfire dwindled and stopped, replaced by murmuring voices along the road as Ahiga imagined the cavalrymen peering into the woods for signs of movement. In time the voices faded, and the crunch of the rolling wagon along the road resumed.
Ahiga buried the boy under a cairn of branches and stones, sad he never even learned his name. He cast a sad look toward the road, certain the cavalrymen had left the Apache boy's body by the roadside. However, Ahiga feared going back to bury him might lead to capture, so he silently prayed that whatever Apache gods watched over their people sped the boy's spirit to his ancestors.
As the moon took over vigil in the sky from the sun, Ahiga headed deeper into the woods- alone, cold, and hungry.
It was there that he met Sema of the Tsintah, the skinwalker.
***
Ahiga wandered the darkened woods, guided by the moon's light through the branches and driven by a desire to put as much distance between himself and the road as possible. He knew he could not return to his village; Ignatius Reacher would just put him on another wagon to the Carlisle school. For all he knew, the soldiers reported that he killed the two boys while making his escape; no judge would take his word over the soldiers, and they would hang him as a murderer.
He was desperately thirsty and walked toward the sound of running water until the trees gave way to soft earth along a flowing stream. He knelt and scooped handfuls of cool water into his mouth. The water was crisp and clean as he gulped down mouthfuls and splashed it onto his face.
Exhausted from the night's ordeal, Ahiga sat back on the soft earth and rested his head against his knees. The feeling of being watched made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, and he looked up to find a Native American man of exceedingly tall stature, easily ten feet tall, staring back at him from across the stream. There were faint touches of black remaining in the man's long gray hair and deep crow's feet framed eyes of a stunning green that peered curiously at him from a tan, weathered face. Ahiga's father had told him about these tribes of giants; they were the Anaasázít, the ancient ones. They had once roamed the lands in great numbers before the Diné and other tribes had migrated here. It had been many generations since the Anaasázít had passed from the land and faded into legend, leaving only large mounds that white settlers savagely pillaged and destroyed in hopes of discovering lost riches or leveled to clear fields for their rows of wheat or corn. The Anaasázít man slowly nodded his head in greeting.
Ahiga slowly nodded back, noticing the men carried no weapons beyond the bone-handled knife belted at his waist.
"Are you hungry?" the Anaasázít man spoke the Diné tongue with a strange accent.
Ahiga answered him with a quick nod.
"You are welcome to come and share my meal," he waved for Ahiga to follow as he walked back into the woods.
Intrigued by this mysterious man and the promise of food, Ahiga splashed across the small stream to follow him into the woods. The Anaasázít man wore a tunic and trousers of buckskin, a necklace with three white bones hung around his neck and bounced as he strode through the woods. Ahiga looked down and saw the man's enormous feet were barefoot as he crunched through the brush.
"What are you called?" the man looked sidelong at Ahiga.
"My name is Ahiga. I am of the Diné," Ahiga was nearly breathless, trying to keep pace with the man's long strides. "You are one of the Anaasázít?"
"That is what your people called us," the man nodded thoughtfully. "I am Sema of the Tsintah."
"Are there many of your people here?"
"No, I am the last of my people. When I am gone, the Tsintah will be gone from this world," a sad smile crossed Sema's weathered face. "They wait for me to join them. My parents, my wife, and even Kemo, who ran with me in these woods as children, I see them and all my people in the mists. I see them smiling and waiting patiently for me."
Sema spoke no more after that, and the two silently walked through the darkened woods.
***
Sema lived in a dome-shaped home with pole walls covered in a dark mix of clay and grass under a thatched roof. The small dwelling sat in a clearing in the woods where the old man had cultivated patches of pumpkins, sunflowers, and wild berries.
The two shared a meal of rabbit stew cooked with pumpkin and fresh herbs that Sema cooked in a large clay pot. The old man laughed as Ahiga struggled to eat with the overly large Anaasázít utensil carved from deer bones. By the end of the meal, Ahiga's linen shirt bore as much of the stew as his belly did.
They sat around the fire and talked late into the night as Ahiga told Sema all that had befallen him. The giant of a man listened intently and nodded as Ahiga spoke, sympathizing with the boy's loss of his parents.
"How is it you speak in the Diné bizaad?" Ahiga looked curiously at Sema.
"My wife was Diné," Sema looked thoughtfully into the fire, his eyes taking on a far-off look. "The Tsintah had already all but passed from the world, and I had come to live among your people, though a different clan than yours, I suspect. She was a beautiful woman with hair softer than the wind. I loved her very much."
"I was out hunting with the young men one day when a man named Narbona, a Spaniard, led his troops into our canyon between the Tunicha and Chuska Mountains, hoping to catch us by surprise. His men found only our women, children, and elderly in a shallow cave, but that did not stop them from firing down on them until almost everyone lay killed."
Sema through another log into the fire, making it blaze brighter. "My wife was brave. She played dead, waiting for the soldiers to check the bodies, and leaped up, threw her arms around one of them, and sent them both toppling over the canyon to their death."
"I have heard of this," Ahiga nodded his head. "My people call that place Ah dah aho nili or, the place where two fell. But that was almost a hundred years ago. How old are you?"
"The Tsintah live long lives, and I even longer than most," Sema smiled at Ahiga, his teeth gleaming white in the firelight. "I have no children, and you have nowhere to go, Ahiga of the Diné.
Ahiga watched as Sema's large hand touched the bones hanging from the cord about his neck, "would you like to stay here and keep an old man company so that he may pass on the ways of the Tsintah before he goes to join his ancestors?"
Ahiga stared silently at the giant and nodded his agreement.
***
Sema seemed to possess unlimited knowledge of the forest, and Ahiga constantly found himself in awe of the breath of the man's understanding of the uses of every part of the plants and trees. Despite his age, the man seemed to have boundless energy, and only pride kept Ahiga from asking Sema to stop to let him catch his breath as they raced through the forest.
In the evenings, Ahiga would lay out on the grass and sleep underneath the clear starry night. Partly because he felt there was nothing more amazing than the night sky and partly because he learned that a person twice the size of an ordinary man, like Sema, also snored twice as loud.
The one thing that perplexed Ahiga was Sema's hunting abilities. Sema would send Ahiga to the stream daily to clean the clay pots and bowls. When he returned, Sema would be gutting and cleaning rabbits or deer for their meals. Ahiga had never seen Sema set any traps in the forest, and their camp contained no weapons except for a few bone-handled knives.
One day, Ahiga pretended to take the pots down to the stream but doubled back to follow Sema. Secreted in the bushes around the clearing, Ahiga watched as Sema plucked a plump pumpkin and carried it into the little domed house. No sooner than the tall man disappeared into the darkened doorway did the most ferocious growling and snarling emanate forth from the little dwelling. Fearing a wolf or bear had somehow wandered into the camp, Ahiga charged out of the brush and ran for the doorway. However, as Ahiga reached the opening, a massive gray wolf sprang out of the house's darkness and drove him to the ground. The beast was larger than any wolf had ever seen, and its weight on his chest felt like a mountain had dropped upon him. He gasped for breath as the creatures snarling maw brought massive razor-sharp teeth so close to his face that he could feel the wolf's hot breath upon his skin. The wolf's paws were on his shoulders, pinning his arms as his legs kicked futilely.
"Is this how you repay my kindness?" the voice that came from the wolf was deep and guttural as it stared at him with sad green eyes. "You skulk in the woods and spy on me?"
Ahiga's eyes opened wide with fright at his sudden realization, "You...you are a Yee naaldlooshi! Sema, you are a skinwalker."
***
Ahiga did not meet Sema's eyes as they sat around the fire. Internally, he was a sea of churning feelings. Sema had taken him in and treated him with kindness, but he had heard many tales of the shapeshifting skinwalkers, who took the form of beasts to hunt the Diné. According to the stories, his people feared them, and with good reason.
"I was a shaman among my people, like my father before me." Sema's green eyes watched Ahiga intently. "He taught me the secret of skinwalking. I know the stories you have been told, and I understand why you fear me."
"Are they true?" Ahiga hated the accusatory sound in his voice.
"Yes," Sema nodded sadly. "There was a time when those tales were true. It is one of the reasons the tribes made war on my people, and rightly so. But in time, our two people came to live side by side in peace. However, children are rare among my people and those of the Tsintah that did not die in the wars with the tribes scattered and, in time, succumbed to old age or disease until only I remained."
"Why did you hide this from me?" Ahiga gave the old man a stern look. "Did you not trust me with your secret?"
"Ahiga, it is more than my secret I want to trust to you. It is the secret of skinwalking I will pass on to you. But first, I needed to be sure."
"Be sure of what?" Ahiga watched as Sema's expression became pained.
"When I went to live with my wife's people, they allowed me to join them if I taught them the secret. And I was happy too," Sema's voice took on a sorrowful tone. "I taught all of the men of the tribe. We would hunt on the plains like a pack of wolves, and our families never went hungry. "
"You were out hunting when the Spaniards came." Ahiga nodded his head thoughtfully.
"Yes," Sema stared into the fire, remembering that dark day. "When we returned, the men were in a frenzy. They took on their wolf forms and hunted the Spaniards for weeks. They tore apart any Spaniard they could find. But the Spaniards killed them too, and we lost many more men before their bloodlust was satiated."
"When they returned, the men were different. They had run as wolves for too long, and the loss of their families left them dark and empty inside. They became the things of nightmares from the old tales. They killed indiscriminately to feed their hunger. Some of them may even still be out there, hunting."
Sema's eyes were brimmed with tears when he looked at Ahiga, "After that, I came to this place and swore never to teach the way of the skinwalker again."
"So then, why teach it to me?"
"Because Ahiga, my time in this world is growing short. I would be squandering a gift from the gods if I let the way of skinwalking pass from this world with me."
"Do you believe I can learn the way?" Ahiga averted his eyes from the old giant's gaze.
"I do," Sema nodded slowly and then slapped his palms on his thighs. "Starting tomorrow, we shall find out."
***
"The way of Tsintah skinwalkers involves three animal spirits, the deer, the wolf, and the crow," Sema pointed to the three bones on his necklace, one from each animal. "Have you learned to Hózhó náhásdlíí?"
"Yes," Ahiga nodded. "To walk in beauty. My father taught me the importance of living in harmony with all living things."
"Good, good," the shaman grinned broadly. "That is why Tsintah first learn to walk in the skin of the deer. You must learn to find delight in the swiftness of running through the forest and the joy of eating a fresh patch of clover. By experiencing the pleasures of the deer, we appreciate the deer's great sacrifice when we hunt them and free their spirit. The hunter must never take for granted what the deer has lost to provide for us. In this way, the wolf and the deer stay in harmony."
Ahiga listened attentively as he sat across from Sema under the warm afternoon sun.
"The skin of the wolf comes with great responsibility," Sema's weathered face became stern and severe. "You must never kill another human wearing the wolf's skin."
"Not even to defend yourself?" Ahiga was confused by the old man's words. "You said you and the Diné warriors hunted the Spaniards as a pack of wolves."
"Listen to me, Ahiga," Sema firmly grabbed the boy's arm. "Never kill a human in the wolf's skin. Once you taste human blood, the craving and hunger will never cease. It will drive you mad with bloodlust. It changed those men forever, making them more man than beast. You must promise me this, Ahiga; if you cannot, then I cannot teach you the wolf's skin."
"I...I promise," Ahiga pulled back as Sema released his arm, surprised at the old man's intensity.
Sema gave him a stern look, studying Ahiga's face for a long moment before nodding, satisfied with what he saw.
"You must also understand this, never stay longer in the animal's skin than you must. The path to putting on an animal's skin is short, but the road back to your human form is much further. The longer you spend in an animal's skin, the easier it will be to get lost and not find your way back to yourself. This is especially true of the wolf. It is a powerful animal with senses far more acute than our own, the allure of remaining in wolf form will be great, but you must resist."
"I understand, Sema," Ahiga nodded and touched the giant shaman's shoulder reassuringly. "And what of the crow?"
Sema laughed, a loud booming sound in the quiet clearing, and a broad smile crossed his lined face, "Are you so eager to fly off from me already, Ahiga?"
***
Ahiga found taking on the shape of a deer wildly disorienting. The deer's senses were significantly more acute than a human's, so he was overwhelmed by the cacophony of forest sounds and the myriad scents that assailed him. He could hear birds much farther away than his eyes could see, and he smelled dozens of varieties of grass, berries, and brush. Only with Sema's assistance did he stop thinking about coordinating the movement of his four legs and let his instincts take over, but not before he tumbled over several times in a jumble of tangled limbs.
However, it was only a short time before he adventured in the forest, sampling clover and berries or darting through the trees at a breakneck pace. Ahiga could not see Sema, but his heightened sense of smell alerted him that the old shaman was wearing the guise of the gray wolf and lurking nearby, ready to protect him from predators or danger.
As the weeks passed, Ahiga could transform into a deer as quickly as putting on a familiar pair of trousers. However, the transformation back into his human form was much slower, taking upwards of an hour and leaving him drained and weary.
Learning to transform into a wolf proved much more effortless than Ahiga thought.
"That is because your spirit has learned to be in harmony with the spirit of the deer and the wolf, shedding off the boundaries of its human shell," Sema stared approvingly at the large black wolf that stood before him. "What of other animals? Besides the deer, wolf, and crow?" Ahiga's wolf voice was deep and guttural. "Can we transform into others?"
"I have only learned to hear the spirit of those three. But you are young and could become a more remarkable shaman than I, hearing even more animal spirits, perhaps the bear, owl, and eagle," Sema slipped quickly into the form of the giant gray wolf, his green eyes blazing mischievously. "Come, pup, let us go explore the woods together."
The pair ran through the woods, leaping over fallen timber and dashing through cold streams. They announced their passing with deep, mournful howls as they raced through the woods. If Ahiga thought the sensation of running through the woods as a deer was exhilarating, then doing so as a wolf was absolutely intoxicating. The strength and nimbleness of his limbs as he navigated the forest at a dead run. The rush of scents filling his nostrils as nearby animals kicked his prey drive into high gear. His adrenaline surged at the thrill of catching a plump hare for their dinner and feeling its spirit leap free to join its ancestors in the afterlife. Ahiga felt like he was the god of the forest.
The transformation back to his human form had been difficult, taking nearly three hours before he could muster the energy to join Sema by the fire and partake in their dinner of roasted hare and wild berries. Even then, as Ahiga stared into the flames, he craved his lupine form.
Sema laughed as he tore off a piece of greasy meat and slipped it into his mouth, "The mark of the wolf stays on your spirit and calls to you; that is why men find it easy to give in to it and never return. In time I will teach you the spirit of the crow, and then you will see that nothing compares to being free of the earth and sailing high above all else."
***
Four winters passed as Ahiga grew from a boy into a young man, learning the ways of the Tsintah and skinwalking. There were still times when Ahiga stayed too long in the wolf's skin and needed Sema's help to return to his human form. For this reason, Sema refused to teach him the way of the crow's skin.
Ahiga grew to see Sema as a second father, and Ahiga became like a son to the aged shaman. The two spent many days running through the woods as deer or hunting under the moon as wolves. However, as spring came to their forest, Sema's energy began to wane, and he spent his days napping under the warm sun as Ahiga hunted for their meals.
"I dream of the days when the Tsintah filled this land, my parents were young, and Kemo's booming laughing shook the trees and scared the birds to flight," Sema stretched out on the grass with a wide yawn. "And I dream of the warm embrace of my wife."
One afternoon as Ahiga hunted along the edge of the forest in the wolf's skin, he caught the scent of another human on the wind. Sema had warned him always to steer clear of settlers as they would not hesitate to shoot at a deer or wolf. Or Diné. Settlers had been in their woods before but never in this part of the forest.
From the protection of the forest, Ahiga kept to the shadows and crept along the tree line. A small tent sat around a sparse camp along the stream. A clothesline ran between two trees, and a gray dress gently fluttered in the Spring breeze. Ahiga sniffed the air and smelled the rabbit roasting over the fire before he spotted it sizzling on a makeshift spit. Sprigs of rosemary and small bundles of sage dangled from a tree on chords drying alongside small cloth packages of dried flowers and herbs.
He watched the camp for a long moment and noted the absence of people or weapons. Ahiga dashed out of the woods and across the stream, stopping and crouching low as his wolf ears listened for signs of movement in the camp.
Hearing nothing, he dashed forward toward the roasting rabbit. He knew Sema would be angry that he took such an unnecessary risk going into the camp, but inwardly he smiled at the thought of a hunter returning to find his rabbit gone.
Ahiga was about three paces away from the cookfire when the woman emerged from the small tent. He froze in place, paws digging into the earth as he prepared to flee but was leery of turning his back on the woman. The woman also stopped in her tracks, long red hair blowing in the breeze; a look of shock quickly passed across her pale face, replaced by a serene calm. She brought her hand to a crow's skull that hung around her neck and smiled at Ahiga.
He hunched low and growled as the woman slowly approached the fire.
"Where I come from, it is considered rude not to offer a guest hospitality," she spoke the settlers' language but with a strange accent that Ahiga had never heard before. The woman walked to the roasting rabbit and twisted off a hind leg; she tossed the warm, greasy leg to Ahiga. "You are welcome in my camp but do not come as a thief to steal what I would freely give."
Ahiga snatched the rabbit leg out of the air and eyed the woman suspiciously before running back into the woods. He tore the savory meat from the bone as he watched the woman from the forest eat her meal and wash her dish in the stream before returning to her tent. He watched the camp for the rest of the afternoon, but the woman never emerged from the tent again.
Ahiga did not tell Sema about the strange woman as they ate dinner, but he lay awake thinking about her that night. She did not seem remotely phased by the presence of a wolf in her camp, let alone frightened. He was intrigued.
The following day he returned to the woman's camp in the deer's skin. She sat cross-legged on the ground, humming as she tied a string around small handfuls of dried white sage. His deer hooves splashed softly through the stream as he crossed, casually walking to a patch of grass and nibbling at some clover. He momentarily caught sight of his shadow, pleased that his antlers had grown considerably over the past winter.
Ahiga felt the woman's hazel eyes upon him and tried to appear disinterested as he raised his head to stare back at her as he chewed the clover. She stared hard at him for a long moment, narrowing her eyes and cocking her head sideways.
"So what I keep wondering," she slipped the bundle of sage into her pocket and crossed her arms across her chest. "Are you a wolf with the eyes of a deer or a deer with the eyes of a wolf?"
Ahiga stopped chewing, and a chill ran through his body. He felt an overwhelming urge to flee into the woods and never return to the camp of this strange woman as she stood and started walking towards him.
"When I was a young girl in Ireland, my mother used to tell me tales of the faoladh," she eyed him curiously as she approached. "They call them werewolves here. Is that what you are?"
Ahiga's mind raced; he was frozen with fear and felt his heart thumping in his chest as the woman reached out her hand to stroke his antler.
"I am a cunning woman, like my mother before me. Here they call me a witch," her hazel eyes looked into his as she pointed toward her tent. "That is why I live out here. The townspeople did not like having my kind around, except when they came to me secretly seeking love potions or cures for ailments the doctors could not treat."
She knelt beside him and studied his face, "let me see you. The real you."
Ahiga broke one of the cardinal rules Sema had taught him; he transformed in the presence of another person. She watched the transformation with great interest, showing no fear or shock. Then the woman smiled warmly at Ahiga and handed him a blanket to cover his nakedness.
"My name is Roisin Dubh," her smile reached her eyes.
"I am Ahiga," he smiled back at her.
***
Ahiga came to visit Roisin every day after that. She shared stories of her life in Ireland and the journey to America, and he told her of the Diné. Roisin was keenly interested in herb lore, and Ahiga walked with her into the forest and explained the properties of many plants she had not seen before. In turn, Roisin shared with him ways to mix certain plants and herbs into healing salves and tinctures that Ahiga felt sure even Sema did not know. The only thing that Ahiga kept from her was knowledge of the old Tsintah, even when she inquired about how he learned the craft of skinwalking.
"It's funny. We both live out here," Roisin made a sweeping gesture toward the wilderness. "Because the townspeople hate us for being different."
"I guess that makes us the same in some way," Ahiga slipped a handful of blueberries into his mouth.
"A werewolf and a witch, we are quite the pair, you and I," she blushed as she smiled at him, then her face took on a serious look. "Ahiga, could you teach me to change as you do?"
"I don't know if that is something your people can do," he thought momentarily. "But I can try and teach you. You wear a crow's skull about your neck; is that an animal that your people connect with."
"The crow is a symbol of my goddess, the Morrigan," she touched a hand to the skull. "It is a sacred animal to me."
"I can teach you how to transform your spirit to accept the form of an animal. We can gather some mushrooms in the forest that will help you. You will only need to use them the first few times; then, your spirit can do it on its own," an idea began to form in Ahiga's mind.
That afternoon, they gathered ceremonial mushrooms from fallen trees and sat by the stream as Ahiga guided Roisin on her first spirit journey. He enjoyed the look of wonderment on her face as the journey opened her mind and spirit to new secrets.
When he left her that evening, she could not wear the skin of an animal yet, but Ahiga was confident her spirit was ready to try. He believed her spiritual connection to crows would make for a smooth transformation if only he could get Sema to teach him the way of the crow.
***
When Ahiga returned to the small domed home he shared with Sema with two plump rabbits, he was surprised not to see the old shaman in his usual place fanning the cookfire. The Tsintah lay in the grass, his long gray hair splayed over the earth. Ahiga knelt and gently shook the old man but could not rouse him. Sema's skin was warm, and his forehead glistened with sweat, but he still breathed.
A groan escaped Sema's lips as Ahiga carefully dragged him close to the fire and laid a blanket over him. The shaman's eyes fluttered open, and they took a moment to focus on Ahiga.
"It seems," Sema's voice was weak. "My wife will not have to wait much longer for me to join her."
"You just have a fever," Ahiga wiped the shaman's head with a damp rag. "We will have you running through the woods before the new moon rises."
Ahiga made the rabbits into a brothy stew filled with bitter-tasting healing herbs that he spoon-fed to Sema. He stayed up all night wiping Sema's brow and keeping the fire warm and blazing to keep the chill away.
Over the next few days, Ahiga fashioned healing plants into stems and pastes, but Sema's fever did not abate. The old shaman did not worsen, but he showed no signs of improvement. With his knowledge of healing thoroughly exhausted, Ahiga tried one last desperate gamble to cure Sema's illness.
"I need you to come with me," the look of desperation in Ahiga's brown eyes broke Roisin's heart. "My friend is very sick; I need your help."
Ahiga's heart swelled with emotion at the way she did not hesitate to offer her assistance. As Roisin gathered jars of healing ointments from her tent and loaded a satchel with select plants and herbs, Ahiga realized he had come to love this strange foreign woman. From the concern in her eyes, he believed she might love him too.
They traveled quickly through the woods, and Ahiga wished more than once that he had taught Roisin the way of the deer so they could race through the forest. Sema lay still when they reached his side, and Ahiga feared that he had already joined his ancestors until the shaman slowly opened his eyes and looked from Ahiga to the red-haired witch.
"My name is Roisin; I am a healer," she smiled at the old man and opened her satchel. "I have brought some things that will help you."
"I am sorry, Sema, I could just let you die. Roisin is a friend; she can help." Ahiga watched Sema look curiously at Roisin.
When he looked at Ahiga, a smile crossed his face. "More than a friend, I think," his voice was weak, but the look of happiness in his eyes was unmistakable. "I am happy you found someone who could tether your spirit and keep you from getting lost in the world."
Roisin blushed as she poured a small vial of liquid into Sema's mouth, "this will break your fever while I work a soup fight the illness."
Ahiga squatted down and gave Roisin room to work as she began to lay out her herbs and a wooden pestle. Her voice was filled with compassion as she talked to Sema, explained what she was doing, and gently dabbed at the sweat on his brow. The old shaman smiled back at her, nodding his head gently as she spoke. As Ahiga watched them, his worries for Sema slowly faded, replaced by a feeling of love and family for the first time in a very long time.
***
The fire sent burning embers skyward as the flames roared over the new logs Ahiga fed into the fire. A late spring frost had struck, dropping temperatures overnight, and he was determined to keep the chill from Sema. It had been three weeks since Roisin began caring for the old shaman, and he was nearly fully recovered. Ahiga would not risk the unexpected cold spell causing the illness to return.
At the moment, Sema sat engrossed in conversation with Roisin over a small, spineless cactus that skinwalkers could use to prepare the spirit for transformation. He had expected Sema to be angry with him for bringing her to their camp and revealing their secret, especially since she was not from the tribes. But the old shaman was grateful for her healing ministrations and found a kindred spirit in her knowledge of herb and plant lore. Ahiga knew she was an outcast among her people because she rejected the settlers' religion, choosing to follow her ancestors' ways and gods. Although she used different words for it, she walked the Hózhó náhásdlíí and lived a life of harmony with the earth. He thought that she bore the spirit of the Diné within her, despite her red hair and pale skin.
"Ahiga, when this frost has passed," Sema slurped noisily as he drank a spoonful of the fragrant herbal stew. "It is time we build you a home. One big enough for two."
Ahiga and Roisin exchanged a look of surprise.
"Come now, you two; I am an old man, but even I can see what has grown between you," he smiled at their bashful looks.
"Sema, are you staying that Roisin can stay with us?" Ahiga tried to hide his excitement.
"No," his answer was so abrupt that it shocked them, and they exchanged puzzled looks as he went back to drinking his stew. They sat silently as the old shaman took three slow spoonfuls of soup, clearly savoring the taste. Then he looked at them and smiled. "I am insisting Roisin come and live with us."
***
Roisin placed her few belongings into a battered carpetbag; two dresses, three pairs of stockings, several old journals, a small wooden crow, and a dark locket of her mother's hair that she said was her most precious possession. When the riders approached, they were packing her packets of dried herbs and plants into her satchel bag—three men, local settlers, by their attire.
"That is James Carson, Will West, and Reverend Parker," Roisin's face turned sour. "They were among the loudest voices calling for driving the witch out of town."
The men bore grim angry looks on their faces as they galloped into Roisin's little camp. Ahiga saw two of the riders were middle-aged with dark hair, one bearded and the other clean-shaven; both wore Colt revolver pistols in holsters at their waist. The third rider was a pinch-faced wiry, white-haired man who clutched a Bible in his hand while he gripped his reigns tightly with the other.
"Am I not far enough out of town for you, James Carson?" Roisin raised her chin defiantly to the rider.
"Do not speak my name, witch," the bearded man sneered as his horse panted from the exertion of the run.
"Careful, Jim, she has a heathen Indian with her too," the other man looked sidelong at balefully at Ahiga and placed a hand upon the handle of his pistol.
"You brought this down upon us," the Reverend pointed an accusatory finger at Roisin, who looked confusedly at Ahiga. "Your vile magic wrought the frost that has destroyed our crops!"
"I've lost everything," Carson edged his horse closer menacingly.
Ahiga felt his body tense as the confrontation grew heated, and he eyed the two armed men warily. The Reverend was reciting scripture and glaring at Roisin, his voice rising in pitch and volume as he appeared to be working himself up into quite the frenzy.
"I had nothing to do with the weather," she shook her head and looked sympathetically at the bearded rider. "I am sorry for the loss of your crops and the suffering it will bring to your kind wife. Mable is a good and decent woman."
"Jim, don't listen to her; she speaks with the devil's tongue," Will West moved his horse to keep the bearded man between him and Roisin.
The Reverend was nearly frothing at the mouth as he stood in his stirrups and shook a fist at Roisin. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"
"We should have stoned you in the streets," Parker kicked his horse forward, driving it into Roisin and sending her tumbling to the ground as he drew his pistol.
Roisin let out a startled cry as the horse crashed into her, and Ahiga heard a whoosh of air escape her lungs as she hit the ground. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion for Ahiga. The Reverend shouted venomously as his face contorted in rage. Will west was drawing his pistol as Carson tried to maneuver his horse to get a clean shot at Roisin, who lay momentarily stunned.
Ahiga ran at Carson, a feral growl escaping his lips as he leaped at the rider, taking on the wolf's skin as he flew through the air. Jim Carson's eyes opened wide with surprise and terror as he saw the giant black wolf hurtling toward him.
"The Indian turned into a wolf," Will West nearly dropped his pistol as he fumbled to draw it from his holster.
"A woman that hath a familiar spirit shall surely be put to death: they shall stone them with stones: their blood shall be upon them," Reverend Parker's voice screeched above the chaos in the camp.
Ahiga slammed into Carson, his claws rending and tearing flesh as his jaws snapped at the man's throat, as they tumbled off the horse. They hit the ground hard, the pistol flying from Carson's hand as he frantically tried to dislodge the wolf. There was a gurgling scream and crunching cartilage as Ahiga's jaws clamped down on the man's throat. Blood gushed into Ahiga's lupine mouth as he violently shook the fallen man until his struggling stopped.
A shot rang out, and the earth beside Ahiga puffed up in a little plume. Then a second shot as Ahiga only narrowly dodged out of the bullet's path. Will West was aiming for a third shot, and Ahiga could see the man had him dead in his sights. When the third shot rang out, West flew backward off his horse to sprawl motionless. Shocked to still be alive, Ahiga glanced over at Roisin, who had regained her feet, Carson's smoking pistol in her outstretched hand. She fired the gun five more times, her hand jumping with the concussive force of the shots.
"Dammit," the gun clicked empty as Roisin watched the fleeing Reverend galloping hellbent back toward town.
Blood soaked Ahiga's dark muzzle, the taste of it making his heart beat faster with the desire for more human blood. He felt a craving, unlike any other, course through his body as he stared at Roisin with primal hunger. Ahiga shook his head to clear his thoughts and slipped back into his human form with more difficulty than he expected.
Roisin looked at him with sad, frightened eyes. "Ahiga, we must leave; the Reverend will return with more men. They'll have rifles and hunting dogs with them. We have to warn Sema and flee."
***
Sema's smile faded as he saw the look on Roisin's face and the blood on Ahiga.
"What has happened," he rushed over to them. "Are you both ok?"
"We're fine, Sema, but we all must leave. Men are coming after us to kill us; they'll kill you too."
"Ahiga, what has happened?" Sema grabbed Ahiga by the shoulders and tried to look into his downcast eyes.
"Sema, I killed a man while in the wolf's skin," Ahiga's voice was barely a whisper.
"You had no choice Ahiga. That man would have killed me and you, too," Roisin touched his cheek gently. "You saved me."
"Do you feel the hunger?" Sema's heart sank as Ahiga nodded, tears brimming in his eyes.
Sema turned away from them and walked, deep in thought, as he stroked the bones around his neck. Roisin pleaded that time was short if they would get a headstart on their pursuers, but he just waved her away. When he faced them again, his face was a mix of sorrow and determination.
"Ahiga, now that you have tasted human blood, you can never again take on the wolf's skin," Sema shook his head slowly. "The wolf always waits to take over, and when it does, you will have no control over it."
"Know this too," Sema wrapped his arms around Ahiga and hugged him close. "The temptation to return to the wolf's skin will become too great; in a moment of weakness, you will succumb to it. The Ahiga, the man, will be no more."
"Sema, what am I to do?" tears streamed down Ahiga's cheeks.
"I will teach you, both of you, my last lesson. I will teach you the way of the crow," Sema looked at them with great sadness in his old eyes. "But I will not teach you the way back. You will soar as crows and remain so evermore. It is the only way to keep the wolf from taking you, Ahiga. There is no other way."
"We will never be human again?" Roisin's voice was quiet as Sema shook his head.
"You will fly to safety and live long lives but stay as crows for the rest of your days."
Ahiga looked questioningly at Roisin. Unspoken words passed between them, and then Roisin smiled. Ahiga smiled back at her, a feeling of love swelling his heart.
"Are you sure ?" Ahiga searched her eyes.
"After today, I will be hunted wherever I go. I would know no peace," Roisin took her hand in his.
"We will live as crows then," Ahiga nodded.
"My goddess would be pleased," Roisin touched her hand to the crow's skull around her neck.
"Will you come with us?" Ahiga turned to Sema.
"Ahiga, you are like a son to me, and in our short time together, Roisin has become like a daughter," the old shaman smiled sadly. "But I miss my wife and my people. My bones have grown old and weary. I yearn to be reunited with them."
Ahiga began to protest, but Sema raised a hand to stop him.
"This is my choice Ahiga; you will not change my mind."
***
They set fire to the small domed house and watched the flames wick to the thatched roof, quickly turning to a bright blaze. It had been Sema's home for a long time, and he did not like the thought of men coming who would defile it as they did the mounds of his people.
Ahiga was the first to take on the crow's skin; he stretched his black feathered wings wide and soared up into the air. Cawing as he swooped lower over Roisin and Sema before flying wide circles above them.
Sema gave Roisin the ceremonial mushrooms and gently talked her through her spirit journey. She sat on the ground, swaying with her eyes closed as Sema quietly chanted before her. Ahiga heard Roisin moan loudly and bend over at the waist as he circled above. Sema's body momentarily obscured his sight of her, but as he made his next pass, a large black crow stood where Roisin had been. The crow looked up at him and cawed loudly before soaring up to meet him.
Sema let out a bellowing laugh of pure joy as he watched the two fly and chased each other through the air.
"Sema, this is magnificent! I can see the whole world from up here," wonderment filled Ahiga's voice.
"This is amazing!" Roisin laughed.
Sema watched them dance and play in the air until the sun was past midday.
"Won't you come with us?" Ahiga landed beside the old shaman.
"We can all fly off together," Roisin's eyes remained hazel, even as a crow.
"No, my friends, but you can do this old man one last kindness," Sema gently touched their black feathered heads.
"We will do whatever you wish," Ahiga felt tears stinging his eyes.
"Just sit with an old man for a few moments longer," Sema's voice held a weariness Ahiga had never heard before.
"Of course," Roisin's voice cracked with emotion.
"Thank you," Sema smiled warmly at them both.
The old shaman stretched toward the sky, and as he lowered his hands, he took on the form of a giant gray wolf. His fur was lighter than the first time Ahiga had seen him as a wolf, and his muzzle was pure white now. The wolf lay down in the warm afternoon sun and stretched its once-powerful legs. The two crows stood alongside him and lay their heads against the wolf's warm fur.
Sema's breathing was becoming more shallow, and the wolf's eyes began to close.
"It has been an honor and a privilege to be your friend Sema of the Tsintah," Ahiga's tears dampened the wolf's gray fur.
"The honor has been all mine, Ahiga of the Diné."
They sat with him as his breathing slowed until the movement of his chest was barely perceivable.
"Kemo, I could hear you laugh from miles away," Sema chuckled softly, and then his voice took on a sound of utter happiness. "Of course, I recognize that beautiful face walking with my parents!"
The large gray wolf let out one last deep breath, and then the old shaman's spirit let go of this world.
***
Roisin and Ahiga stood quietly beside the still form of the gray wolf until they heard voices and the baying of hounds in the distance.
"Ahiga, it's time," Roisin's voice was soft and comforting.
Ahiga said a last silent goodbye to his friend, then clutching the shaman's necklace of bone in his claws, he soared up into the sky. Roisin rose behind him, her broad black wings beating rhythmically. They did not wait to see the men reach the clearing; neither desired to see their home invaded by such interlopers.
They flew far away from the clearing, making their home in a peaceful valley. From time to time, Ahiga would fly to the ruins of the small domed house because that is where he felt Sema's presence the strongest. Ahiga would talk to his old friend and tell him of Roisin and their growing family. Although Sema never answered him, Ahiga knew his friend heard him in the spirit world.
Just as Sema foretold, Ahiga and Roisin lived long, happy lives. Longer than any crow and longer than most humans. They had children beyond counting, and to this day, there is not a crow in Colorado that does not come from the bloodline of the Irish witch and the Diné skinwalker.