On the far side of the canyon, Adam heard the last dying squeaks of an animal. No doubt, this was the meal that Hugo had intended for him. The scent of blood pierced through the air as if the animal had been slain right under his nose. Adam snorted to rid his nostrils of the odor.
“Mother used to say that you and Hugo were protectors, gifted to us by the Changing Woman.”
Geoffrey understood the subtle question in his statement and shook his head. “Not exactly. Werewolves exist all over the world, not just here. Hugo and I have been traveling to meet others of our kind and learn what myths and legends have been told about us.”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “Myths? So, is the skinwalker just another one of the myths you searched for?”
“In a way, yes. That’s how I met your mother.” Geoffrey briefly glanced toward Hugo as he came forward, carrying a rabbit by its long ears. “That’s what we’ve been doing for the last two years, and that’s what we intend to keep doing.”
A streak of panic skittered through Adam. “And I’m coming with you?”
Hugo pushed his way through the grasses toward the river. “You can’t stay here, that’s for sure.”
The scent of blood and raw meat assaulted his nose again as soon as Hugo began to rip the pelt off the rabbit and clean the meat in the river.
The entity within him trembled to life, like a tiny flame roaring into a raging fire. A coolness washed over Adam’s eyes as if the wind were blowing in his face.
“What’s happening?” he demanded of his father, looking to him for an explanation, expecting him to understand what he was feeling at that very moment.
One corner of Geoffrey’s mouth tilted up in a half-smile and he gestured toward the river. “Look for yourself.”
Wondering if his face had sprouted that dark fur he had seen the night before, Adam rolled over and crawled to the shore to peer into his reflection. Through the dark, watery mirror, he saw his eyes. But they were not their usual greenish hue. They were gold, just like a wolf’s. Adam leaned over and pulled down at the skin just below his eyes. There was no mistaking the change, and that nameless presence lurched at the sight of its own reflection, causing Adam to flinch a bit as well.
Just a few feet from him, Hugo continued to strip the rabbit of its fur and Adam felt compelled to look. He had seen the red meat of a skinned carcass before, but never had it provoked this mass of feeling within him. Suddenly, he was hungrier than he had ever been before.
He lunged forward and tried to snatch the kill from Hugo’s hands, unable to resist the savage urges awakening inside. Hugo was too quick and held the rabbit at arm’s length, away from Adam.
“No, you don’t,” he cautioned, holding the boy back. “I’m not done cleaning it off yet.”
“Let him eat,” Geoffrey reprimanded. “A bit of extra fur won’t make him sick.”
Rather begrudgingly, Hugo offered the rabbit to Adam. He grabbed for it and driven by the wolf, he bit down into the blood-saturated flesh, ripping off chunks until he could pick the bones clean.
When it was all over, he was left with a half-mangled skeleton, broken into pieces with matted fur still hanging on by strips of sinew and fat that Adam bypassed in his feast. It wasn’t enough to fully satisfy him, but the wolf seemed content now.
When more rational thoughts broke through the temporary madness that seized him, Adam realized how perverse it was to eat the raw flesh of an animal in this way. In the village, he would have never eaten something that hadn’t been cooked over the fire first. Yet, he wasn’t completely disgusted with himself. That same wolf that prompted him to respect his father all of the sudden, seemed to impart that what he had just done was perfectly acceptable.
How could it be that the wolf was so connected with Adam? Did it see what he saw and feel what he felt? Better yet, was there some way that he could communicate with it in the same way that it spoke to him now?
Adam tossed the carcass aside and rinsed off his hands and face in the river to wash away the remains of his quick meal. Behind him, he heard Geoffrey and Hugo discussing their intended path back to the village. At the same time, he wondered if those murmuring voices he heard belonged to those of his clan.
He grabbed the trousers that Geoffrey had provided and slipped into them rather easily. They didn’t chafe his skin as harshly as the soft leather pants he usually wore. If what his father said was true and they would be traveling to other lands, he would need more suitable attire that didn’t proclaim his Diné blood.
He stood to join Geoffrey and Hugo and realized that he had grown a few inches through the night. He was now just as tall as they were.
“Ready?” Hugo asked as he slung his pack across his shoulders.
Adam only nodded in response, still a little dazed after everything he had learned that morning.
“The village isn’t far off, so we’re going to run,” Geoffrey said. “Start at a slow pace and we’ll keep up. If you go too fast too soon, you’ll lose track of where you are.”
He scoffed at the idea. How could one lose track of themselves while running? No one could run that fast. Adam took in the position of the sun and turned to the south, down the canyon and in the direction of the village. But he didn’t do what Geoffrey had suggested and dashed off at his normal speed.
Adam soon found himself rolling head over feet after his shoulder bashed into a canyon wall that he didn’t see coming up so quickly. The harsh earth and rocks cut into the skin on his back and shoulders as he tried to grope his way to a stop.
Once he slid on his stomach, disturbing a cloud of dirt and dust around him, Adam groaned. If the stinging pain of his abrasions weren’t enough to tell him that he was badly scraped up by the fall, the scent of his own blood served as an adequate reminder.
Geoffrey and Hugo came to his side and hoisted him to his shaking feet.
“If that’s your light jog, I’d hate to see how fast you are at a full sprint,” Hugo quipped.
“That wasn’t a slow pace, Adam.”
He waved off his father. “I know, I know.” He looked down to his body, expecting to see a bloody, mauled mess. Instead, all that remained was the splatters of blood caked with dirt across his chest and torso. Even the burning impression of the scratches were gone. It was as if he had never fallen in the first place.
Adam turned back to see how far he had run and he couldn’t even see the place at the river where they’d started.
“Yes, we can really run that fast,” Hugo said before slapping his nephew on the back. “Come on. This time… slow.”
Geoffrey slipped his way into the village after he left Adam and Hugo just beyond the fringes of land where the sheep grazed. He had used the excuse that it was much safer for his son to stay far away from the livestock and other humans who would ask questions about what happened the night before. In all honesty, Geoffrey wasn’t concerned about Adam’s sense of self control. Not after last night.
The breaking was easier than Geoffrey ever expected it to be. As the more dominant wolf of the three, it was his responsibility to make sure that Adam’s spirit was gently broken, in the same way that a wild horse was conditioned for human riders. When Adam turned for the first time, however, there was none of the ferocity that he had seen in newly turned werewolves. In fact, he was quite tame already.
However, Geoffrey and Hugo agreed to let the boy believe that he was dangerous. He still had much to learn about controlling his speed and strength, but it appeared that listening to his inner wolf wasn’t a problem at all. He watched the way his son had devoured the raw meat of the rabbit with hardly a bit of hesitation. It took Geoffrey months to grow accustomed to the idea of not cooking his meals. It was more beneficial to their bodies to eat the meat uncooked. Either Adam understood that, or he followed the prompting of his wolf without question.
It might have been too much to hope that Adam’s training would come easy for them. If this morning was any reflection of the years to come, Geoffrey was po
sitive that it wouldn’t be as rough as his own adjustment period had been.
The only thing left to do was gather their things and say goodbye to Rebecca. She’d spin some story about Adam going away with his father for a trading venture and when neither of them came back after months and years of being away, perhaps the villagers would believe that Adam would never return.
Unseen by any of the other villagers, Geoffrey ducked into Rebecca’s hogan and found her still lying in bed, her forehead dotted with sweat and breaths coming out in raspy huffs. Her sickness was getting worse. Geoffrey wordlessly dropped to his knees by her bedroll and swept aside some dark hair that clung to her flushed cheeks.
“Have you called for a hataałii yet?” he asked as her eyes cracked open to peer at him in the dim light.
A soft smile twitched upon her lips. “Not yet,” she replied.
Geoffrey sighed and shook his head. “I’ll go to one before…” He paused, wondering if he should have told her that they were leaving. It might have not been safe to worsen her condition with a broken heart, but he never held anything back from her before and he wasn’t about to start now. “Adam turned last night,” he continued. “We’re leaving, but I promise we’ll be back. We’re going to find some medicine for you.”
Rebecca’s brows furrowed. “Medicine?”
Geoffrey went on to tell her about the disease that was creeping its way north through the tribes. The only cure he knew lay with the Spanish who had dealt with it before.
“We will come back,” he assured, kissing the back of her hand, as he had done so many times before. Life was so fragile and he couldn’t bear to see her beautiful soul slip away. He wasn’t so foolish to think that she could live forever like he did, but she was still too young to fall to the reaper.
“Take care of Adam,” she begged, her grip tightening over his hand. “Make sure he understands what I’ve already come to accept.”
Geoffrey’s nostrils flared. “You’re not dying,” he insisted.
Rebecca gave a soft laugh that gave way into a cough. Once she caught her breath, she said, “No. Make Adam understand that no matter what he believes, no matter what he’s been told, he’s not a monster. I know that because you’re not one and never will be.”
What had he done in his long, miserable life to deserve such a woman? Geoffrey, unconcerned about contracting her illness, kissed her pale, dry lips. “I’ll be back within a few days. I’ll send a medicine man to you and he’ll make you feel better.”
Rebecca smiled. “I already feel better after seeing you one last time.”
He held up a cautionary finger. “Not the last time.”
She rolled her pretty eyes and was given to another coughing fit before she allowed herself to drift back to sleep. What he would have given to stay there longer, to be by her side while she rested. But he would do no good just waiting for a miracle to manifest itself. He had to act.
Geoffrey left the hogan with a sack of Adam’s clothes, and went straight to the place where he knew the medicine men sometimes sat as he exchanged old stories with the younger villagers. He pulled one aside and told him about Rebecca’s symptoms. Of course, he made his own suggestions that the man shrugged off. What did Geoffrey know anyway?
Once he was sure the medicine man would go to see Rebecca, he retrieved their three horses from the corral and made his way out of the village to rejoin Hugo and Adam. With their saddlebags slung over the rumps of the horses, they were ready to leave.
He found them sitting by a cluster of sagebrush, but as soon as Adam stood to approach his horse, the animal knickered and thrashed its head from side to side as if it didn’t want to get anywhere near her owner.
Startled by this turn of attitudes, Adam stayed back and didn’t approach the mare again. Hugo took the reins of his own horse and checked the saddlebags while Geoffrey tried to make sense of the scene.
“She doesn’t know me,” Adam said, a certain look of wild understanding flickering in his eyes the longer he stared at the horse.
“Isn’t this your horse?” Geoffrey questioned. “I’ve seen you riding her.”
Adam nodded. “This is my horse, but she doesn’t recognize me anymore.”
“How do you know?” Hugo asked as he fastened the flaps over his packs and mounted his own horse without difficulty.
He blinked. “I just know.”
Geoffrey watched as Adam put up his hands in a placating manner before taking careful steps toward the frightened mare. He jerked on her tether to make her stand still, but Adam waved him off.
“Let her go,” he ordered.
He did as his son asked and watched the horse dart away a good distance before looking back to the master she had grown to trust over the years. Still, she didn’t come near.
Hugo and Geoffrey watched this play unfold as Adam and his horse danced around one another, drawing closer and then distancing themselves again, only to come back together.
What Adam said made sense. He had undergone a massive change. Even his scent was different and any animal was bound to pick up on it. He didn’t appear any different on the outside. Adam had always been strong, with broad shoulders just like his father. The only true difference that any naked eye could see was that he had grown an inch or two taller.
To a horse, that might not have mattered so much, but the scent and the predator aura Adam must have been emanating was enough to make it scared for its life. After several moments, his son finally succeeded, and the horse permitted him to touch her. How soon she’d let him ride was another concern.
Adam took some more time to sooth the mare, patting down her forehead and mane until her breaths were even and steady again. Then, he spoke. “Mother is sick.”
Geoffrey somehow knew that Adam would be listening from a distance, but he didn’t expect him to understand their words so clearly. If he could hear their conversation in the hogan, then he certainly heard the rest of the village. It would have sounded like a cacophony of noise, but somehow, he had picked out their voices in the chaos.
“She is,” he admitted. “But she will get better.”
“After we get the medicine,” Adam clarified, looking to his father with a calm expression. At least he wasn’t frantic.
“Yes. I know a man at one of the forts who may be able to help us get some.”
Adam’s lips drew into a grim line. “Mexican?”
Hugo shrugged. “Spanish, but I suppose they’re all the same.”
His son said no more about it. Geoffrey could tell that he was less than pleased with the notion of going to a Mexican fort, especially after the rocky history between the natives and settling Spanish who tried to encroach on their land.
Geoffrey reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a spare shirt, one that was clean and baggy enough that his son wouldn’t feel so confined by the fabric that he wasn’t used to. Like the other Navajo, he didn’t wear a shirt often. “You should wear this before we get to the fort. It’ll be less conspicuous.”
Once more, Adam didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t argue. If he’d heard Geoffrey talk with Rebecca about the medicine, then he must have heard about her wish for her son. Was this open attitude due to those beseeching words, or did it have something to do with this new innate sense he had been endowed with through the shift?
Whatever it was, one thing was clear. Adam was not like the other werewolves Geoffrey and Hugo had met over the years. He hadn’t been a fully turned werewolf for more than a day and already he had the makings of someone special. Perhaps he would be an alpha one day.
Then again, the words from that long ago day in Russia came back, echoing in his ears like an enchanting melody.
You four, and your descendants, I will bless.
He hadn’t thought of that prophecy in so long, but he had never forgotten it. Was this the manifestation of that blessing the spirit of peace spoke of? Did Adam bear a tiny piece of this grand scheme that was to unfold and bring the world back into balance?
It might have been too soon to tell.
Chapter Four
“What are you doing?” Hugo asked as he poked and prodded at smoldering logs.
“Listening,” Adam replied, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the fire from his uncle.
And that’s exactly what he was doing. Somewhere in the dark, he could hear everything. Not too far away, the horses chewed upon the foliage. Beyond them, he could hear the tiny squeaks of baby animals nestled in their burrows. Overhead, he could hear an eagle’s wings beating against the air. Once more, he could feel the steady cadence of the earth beneath him, breathing life into everything. He had once thought the night to be still and quiet, but he learned he had been wrong. Just like in the daytime, the land was alive with activity.
Adam had come to accept that this new presence within him, this wolf spirit, was his new life partner. Over the long miles they rode across the parched plains, far outside the land between the sacred mountains and into a territory he had never been, he heeded to the gentle stirrings within him. It said not to fear, not to second guess. So he did his best not to.
The words of his mother came back to him from earlier that day. Everything the wolf told him had validated what she said. They weren’t monsters. Far from it. He saw nothing evil in werewolves, now that he was one.
Geoffrey and Hugo tried to enlighten him as well, teaching him what they could as the three of them rode their horses to the east and then to the south. They followed the trade routes that led to the Spanish and Mexican towns, someplace that had been shrouded with stories of merciless soldiers and greedy settlers who wanted only to kill and steal from his people. It wasn’t a place he’d ever imagined he would go.
They had stopped for the night and his father had gone out to hunt down something big enough for all three of them. Adam had only eaten one other rabbit since that morning and he was still hungry. Besides his senses being constantly bombarded, the hunger was another inconvenience he’d have to get used to.
The Native_A Legacy Series Novella Page 5
