The house was wrapped in deep darkness at midnight, silent and still. As Luis slept peacefully, glowing red eyes emerged from the shadows, burning with a red light. As they slowly moved forward, gradually growing bigger, piercing at Luis.
Meanwhile, In the dimly lit area, the chief sat at a messy desk, surrounded by cigarette smoke. He rubbed his temples, feeling frustrated. The string of murders was a tough puzzle, with each piece slipping away from him—until he saw something odd in one of the photographs. A pet tray was hidden in the corner of the frame at Mrs. Christian's house.
His stomach twisted as he quickly looked through the images, feeling a growing dread. There it was again—at every gruesome crime scene, clear signs of a pet were present, like dark warnings.
His breath caught in his throat as the seriousness of the situation hit him. He quickly grabbed his radio and said firmly, "We need to check every household that recently adopted a stray."
He felt a chill as he realized the truth. The predator wasn't human; it was already inside their homes, hiding in the shadows and waiting.
It was another day in Luis's life with Shiro. Luis sat on the edge of his bed, carefully unwrapping the bandage from Shiro's leg. His fingers trembled slightly as the last layer peeled away, revealing the wound that almost healed beneath. He stared in shock. Just two days ago, a deep scar had marked his flesh—painful, raw, and impossible to ignore. Now, only faint scars remained.
He wondered. "How is this even possible?" he thought.
His loyal companion, Shiro, sat watching him intently with those eyes. The air in the room felt heavier, as if something unseen lingered between them.
Luis let out a nervous chuckle. "Maybe your healing factor is doing well, huh, Shiro?" he mused, scratching the dog's thick fur.
Luis carried Shiro to the bathroom and gently placed him in the tub. He ran warm water over the dog's fur, washing away the dirt and dried blood. Shiro sat still, watching him with calm, golden eyes.
"Feels nice, doesn't it?" Luis said with a small smile as he scrubbed.
After drying Shiro with a towel, Luis led him to his food bowl. As Shiro ate, Luis combed his fur, smoothing out the tangles. A quiet peace settled over him.
For the first time in centuries, he felt safe and comfortable. Luis patted Shiro's head. "I'll be back in the evening. Please stay with me."
Shiro licked his hand as if to say he would. Luis smiled happily. "Okay then," he said and rubbed Shiro before leaving for work.
As he walked, the air felt fresh, and for the first time in years, he felt light.
When he reached the restaurant, he greeted everyone with a big smile. "Good morning!" he said cheerfully.
Everyone was shocked. Luis was usually quiet, but today, he looked happy. Seeing him like this, the staff felt energized. They took orders with excitement, and the restaurant felt more lively than ever.
Meanwhile, at home, Shiro sat quietly on the couch, his golden eyes half-closed. The house was silent, peaceful.
Suddenly, a voice broke the stillness, "Hey! Hózhó."
Shiro's ears twitched. He turned his head slowly. A black cat sat on the window, its tail flicking lazily. Its eyes gleamed with mischief.
It was Yitchi. "What happened?" Yitchi sneered. "Did you kill anyone in these four months? Or are you just being a pet now?"
Shiro didn't react right away. He stared at Yitchi, his expression unreadable.
Shiro's eyes darkened as he stared at Yitchi. His voice was calm but firm.
"Hey! Yitchi… How did you track me?"
Yitchi smirked, jumping down from the windowsill with a graceful landing. He flicked his tail and chuckled.
"When you transformed, you released energy for the first time for a few seconds," he said, his tone amused. "That's how he attacked you, and you even killed one of the Navigo members."
Shiro's body tensed. Silence filled the room.
Yitchi's smirk widened. "You thought they wouldn't notice? They're looking for us, Hózhó. It's safe for now because you take care of the one who saw you."
"I didn't kill him; he died on his own," Shiro-Hózhó snapped.
Yitchi chuckled. "Fine. However, he died, it works in our favour."
"We need to leave. Many have already fled town. Finish what you started and get out before they figure it out."
"Why didn't you kill him?" Yitchi asked.
Hózhó sighed. "I tried last night, but I couldn't. For the first time, I felt something… something in my heart. My human side overpowered the animal instincts."
Yitchi smirked. "Like back at Lola's house?"
Hózhó shook his head. "No, this is different. It feels like I've known him before, like he's someone special to me. It started when I absorbed some life force."
Yitchi's mouth opened slightly in shock, but he quickly masked his expression. "It... it happens when you take in life force after a long time. Don't overthink; just sever his head, or else I will do it for you."
Hózhó/Shiro cut him off. "Don't interfere in my business. I'll do it at any cost."
For the first time, Yitchi felt a twinge of fear.
"Okay! I won't interfere for now," he said quickly. "I'm leaving for another town for six months. When I return, if you haven't finished the job... I will."
Hózhó/Shiro nodded. "Okay, fine."
Without another word, Yitchi turned away, climbed onto the windowsill, and glanced back. While he was going, he murmured under his breath, "Is it really happening to him? Or maybe… It's just a misconception. Let's see after six months." Yitchi smirked. "Even if it happens, I will stop it by just killing him. I won't allow him to be a spiritual yee naaldlooshii (Skinwalker).
On the other side, the chief tightened his coat against the cold morning air. His team, now divided into smaller units, spread across Farmington, knocking on doors and questioning residents. The orders were simple: Investigate every household that had recently taken in a stray animal.
With each knock, tension grew. Some doors revealed nothing more than puzzled homeowners, confused by the sudden police presence. But others admitted that they adopted an animal a few weeks ago and are no longer in the house. Suddenly, they ran away from the house, and only empty pet bowls remained.
One of the policemen called over the radio, "Chief, we've taken some people into custody. They look suspicious. Could you please come over to the station?"
"Suspicious? What do you mean? How exactly?" the Chief asked nervously.
"Sir, they are wearing cloaks with intricate patterns, looking like some kind of tribe members."
"Ok then, I am coming," the chief answered, and while leaving, he ordered his subordinates to inform him if there was any lead in the investigation.
As he entered the station, he called out, "Hey, Sam! Where are they?"
Sam replied, "Sir, they are in the cabin."
"Okay! And get me a strong coffee, please. My head is bursting with those murder cases—we just found a lead, and now this."
As the chief walked toward the cabin, he rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion weighing on him. Inside the cabin, four individuals sat on a bench, their cloaked figures still and watchful.
The chief pulled a chair in front of them and sat down, his sharp gaze scanning each of their faces. "So, who are you guys, and where are you from?" he asked, his voice firm yet curious.
One of the elder members, his presence commanding and his tone unwavering, responded, "Sir, we are the answers to what has been happening in this town for the past few months."
The chief was shocked and asked, "What exactly do you mean? And how do you know what's happening in this town?"
The elder smirked. "We are the Navajo tribe, and I am Chííł. We know who is causing this massacre."
At that moment, Sam entered with the chief's coffee, placing it on the table. The chief barely acknowledged it as he leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "So, you said you know who's causing this chaos. Tell me, Chííł, who are they?"
Chííł's expression darkened as he lowered his voice. "They are Yee Naaldlooshii—in your words, skinwalkers."
Sam instantly replied, "What? Skinwalkers? That's just a myth!"
The chief, looking confused, turned to him. "What? What is a skinwalker?"
Sam hesitated for a moment before answering, "There's a rumour about a mythical being that can shapeshift into any living creature."
The chief said, "So, you're saying they can transform into any animal or even a human—for real?"
Chííł shook his head slightly. "No, it is not a myth. You don't know much about Skinwalkers."
The chief leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Then explain it."
Chííł gasped. "Skinwalkers are of two types. One achieves this ability through deep concentration and an understanding of Mother Nature. They worship the light and the forest, dedicating half of their lifespan to this path. The rest of their life is spent using these abilities to help others and gather rare herbs from the peaks of the mountains.
The other type takes a shortcut—at a terrible cost. They worship the darkness, and in exchange for their Skinwalker abilities, they must sacrifice their loved ones. In return, they are granted immortality, but only as long as they continue to kill and consume blood.
And we… we are also Skinwalkers, but we follow the light."
Upon hearing this, Sam and the chief were shocked, exchanging stunned glances.
The chief exhaled sharply and muttered, "So, my hunch was correct… The clouds are finally clearing."
The chief, still trying to process everything, leaned forward and asked curiously, "Can you show us?"
Chííł shook his head gently. "Sorry, but we cannot. It is sacred."
He then paused before adding, "And I have a request. One of our members has been missing for a few days—since the moment we sensed that aura in the air from 30th Street."
The chief said, "Okay, I will find him. But what about that energy aura?"
Chííł replied, "It is an energy force we first sensed. He might be there, possibly in the form of an animal—like a dog or a cat."
The chief nodded. "Alright, we'll find him. Just wait for some time."
The chief picked up the telephone and gave an order: "Conduct a silent search for any dog or cat that looks unusual at 30th Street. Also, check for any animals found dead under strange circumstances."
As the Navajo members waited outside, an eerie silence filled the station. The chief couldn't shake the feeling that the myth we thought was not a myth anymore.