The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1) (41 page)

I shook my head in confusion. “He’s…what? 
You don’t think he’s…what?”

Mom lowered the phone and rested her hand on my
shoulder.  “Wagmu, I don’t think Hawk is a shapeshifter, and the fact that
he’s zeroed in on you has me very worried.”

“Mom!  Now you’re scaring the heck out of me!
What do you think he is?”

“Willow, I believe Hawk…may be a skinwalker,” she
answered, fear filling her face.

I tossed and turned in my bed, replaying the
conversation with Mom about Hawk.  It was impossible to sleep; whenever
I’d doze off the glowing green eyes from the park would flash into my head and
jar me awake.

Mom didn’t want to go into any details about
skinwalkers and what was so frightening about them, but she didn’t have
to.  I knew the legend; you don’t grow up in New Mexico surrounded by
Native people and not know about skinwalkers.  Even though many Indians
would rather not talk about them, I’d heard about how they practice dark
witchcraft and have the ability to take on the shape of animals –and possibly
even people – depending on how much power they possess.

Before we moved to Santa Fe, we lived in a small
town near Albuquerque.  There was a woman… on the outskirts of town; no
one wanted anything to do with her.  I remember the kids saying she was a
skinwalker.

 The rumor began when a rancher started
losing some of his chickens to a coyote.  He tried and tried to catch the
animal but couldn’t.  He had lost about a dozen chickens before deciding
to set up a trap.  He bought a large catch-and-release cage that would
lure the coyote in; then the spring would shut the door, trapping the
animal. 

He baited the cage and set it up at the entrance
to his chicken coop.  During the night he heard the door to the cage snap
shut.  He jumped up and ran out of his house but was surprised when he
looked inside and saw that the cage was empty.  Staring down at the dusty
ground he could make out the unmistakable footprints of a coyote leading up to
and going into the cage.  But the coyote was gone.  He shined his
flashlight on the ground and was shocked to see human footprints heading away
from the cage, towards the road in the distance.  He quickly followed the
footprints and running about a hundred feet ahead of him was the woman from
town, barefoot.  He raced after her, calling her name, and stopped when
she turned to look back at him, her glowing green eyes threatening an attack.

I lay there thinking about that woman and
remembered how Mom and Dad would go out of their way to avoid her.  There
was something ominous about her.  Hawk, on the other hand, wasn’t like
that, he was personable, kids liked and admired him.  He did have that
other side to him, though, that
bad boy
side. I wrestled with the
obvious differences between the two skinwalkers before my tired brain could
stand no more and finally let me drift off to sleep.

  The canyon and
its spectacular teepee cliffs greeted the morning sky, painted in shades of
red. The pinkish cones stood proud against the crimson backdrop.  A low
howl escaped my mouth and echoed, filling the plateau with its only sound.

I ran among the eroded rocks making my way to
the arroyo resting in the valley below, a trickling of water still running
through it.  I lowered my head and drank before sniffing the ground in
search of my prey.  Once I had locked onto the scent of the man, I
followed it back up to the mesa top and searched the area visually.  The
scent was lost. 

I perked my ears in an effort to
hear…anything.  Behind me I sensed movement in the Indian paintbrushes
that covered the mesa.  There, I could make out the top of a tawny-colored
head, a feline head…a mountain lion.  The man had shifted.

“He’s here,” I said, in mindspeak.

The mountain lion rose and within seconds was
airborne, only inches away from me.  His eyes focused in on mine and he
bared his teeth and snarled.  He raised his large paw and swung at
me. 

I stepped back a few paces –readying myself for
the attack.  My throat produced a deep warning growl and my muscles
tightened.  The cat took a step towards me, never loosening his
stare.  His body hunched down as he lowered his head.  Before the cat
could even blink, the screeching eagle shot down and jabbed its talons into his
back.  He yowled in pain and quickly turned, swinging his massive paws at
the eagle who held tight to his pelt.

I lunged forward and clamped down on the cat’s
neck, deeply sinking my teeth.  I clenched my jaw tight against his twists
and turns, unwilling to let go.  He wrapped his left leg around mine and
forced me to the ground.  My jaw unclenched and I lost my grip.  The
eagle, who was still attached to the cat’s back, rose and then swooped down
once again.

The mountain lion released me and focused on
the relentless sky assaults of the eagle.  I stood and shook my head,
reorienting myself to the fight.

The eagle took hold of the lion’s neck and
pecked at his eyes with his beak.  The lion kept batting at him, trying to
force its release.  The cat was focused on protecting his eyes, which gave
me the chance to attack from behind.  I rocketed from the ground and
landed square on his back.  The eagle released his hold and ascended once
more.  I went for the neck and squarely positioned my teeth.  Before
I was able to force them in, the cat rolled, throwing me from his back. 
My head smashed into a rock, knocking me lifeless for a few seconds. 

When I looked over to where the cat stood, I
saw the eagle get hit and knocked to the ground.  He lay motionless. The
lion lowered his head and yowled. 

He laid down and licked his huge paw before he
stretched out his front legs, then his back, and twisted his head.  He
stood up and let out a loud snarl before changing; his vast body shrinking and
morphing before my eyes.  He reduced to a third his former size, with the
fur being replaced by brown and beige feathers.  His four muscular legs
became two sturdy bird legs with seven-inch-long talons.  

I raced to where the cat continued to
shapeshift.  He looked my way as he lifted into the air, just out of my
reach, perching himself in the skeleton of a nearby pine.  I jumped up on
the trunk of the tree and growled, watching him complete his
transformation.  He directed his attention on the eagle lying on the
ground several feet away. 

The eagle recovered and elevated into the
air.  He circled the pine tree, letting out a shrieking cry.  The
mountain lion had completely shifted into a hawk and shot straight up,
attaching himself to the eagle.

The two engaged in an airborne battle. 
Feathers began cascading, making their way to the ground.  Cries and
screeches filled the quiet of the early morning.  It was impossible to
distinguish one bird from the other.

I stood below, watching, when the hawk broke
away and landed on a rocky ledge that protruded out over the canyon.  The
eagle pursued, trapping him in his talons while lifting him from the
ledge.  The hawk spread his wings, which seemed to grow as he was being
hauled up into the sky.  Within seconds his wingspan had gone from six
feet across to ten.  He easily broke out of the eagle’s grip.  In an
instant he had hold of the eagle’s neck and dropped to the stone
overhang.  He slammed the eagle down on the stone and held him there while
he pecked at his throat.  The eagle wrestled, trying to free himself but
kept being pushed down by the hawk.

I raced to the edge of the canyon and howled as
I watched the eagle being ripped apart.  I ran back to the tree, turned
and began my charge, concentrating on speed.  I quickly arrived at the rim
of the canyon and with an abrupt push, forced myself into the air, directing my
leap to the ledge twenty feet away.  My paws latched on to the front of
the stone as I fought to bring the rest of my body to the surface.  The
hawk quickly let go of the lifeless eagle and hovered in front of me driving
its claws into my face.  The force from its attack sent my left paw over
the edge.  I struggled against it, trying desperately to lift myself. 
I watched as my other paw began to lose ground, noticing the ravine two hundred
feet below me. 

As I turned my head back, the hawk forced his
talons securely into my skull. The eagle rose up behind him and thrust his
claws into the hawk’s back forcing the release of my head.  The hawk took
to the air and flew out of sight.  The eagle then lowered himself below my
struggling body.  I felt a force on my back legs that jolted me to the
surface of the boulder.  I turned to face the eagle as he held himself in
the air.

A screeching cry announced the hawks return as
he flew across the canyon, his claws extended. He drove himself onto the eagles
back.  The force of the hit smashed the eagle into the ledge.  His
eyes grew dim and blood oozed from his beak.  The hawk pulled back, still
holding tight onto the limp body.  The eagle’s head fell forward and his
wings dropped.  The hawk let out a piercing cry then released his talons,
letting the lifeless body drop.  I watched as the eagle plunged to the
depths of the ravine…

Next
in the Series: 

Book
Two

The White Cliffs of OwaNka

Rise of the Skinwalker

By

DS
Elstad

Coming
Fall 2015

Thank
you for reading The Forest of Aisling!

I
sincerely hope you enjoyed it and will join Willow on her future adventures.

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