Jill led them to the spot she had found earlier. The prints of a wolf far bigger than normal. Jacinda tried to guess the weight based on the depth of each paw in comparison to her own shoe print. And then multiplied by 4. It was a rough way to estimate, but it worked. The thing easily was nearing 300.
It was a beast. Maybe not Oni sized. But enough that a shard of fear spiked her stomach. That jeep glass and metal didn't feel so safe. She looked at Jill, masking it with a grin. "Let's see where this asshole takes us."
Back and forth they trekked, following the trail, then going back for the 4 runner. As they did, Jacinda began to get a feel of it. It was intelligent, that was for sure. The trail it took went by places of shade. Caves trickling with water. Rock walks.
And of course other rock outcroppings. The wolf had soon disappeared. Bear tracks showed. A chance look spied the small fissure. The half eaten carcass of a bear stuffed inside.
Bears were bigger and heavier. It wouldn't stand out as easily, she knew. She looked at Jill. Fuck. In the distance Navajo mountain stood, dark and black and looming against the sky. Maybe a half day's drive. Of course, their way doubled that.
Jacinda found her sleep in the SUV less restfull. A bear sized creature could break the windows and rip into them before they knew it. Sleep came less and less frequently. She and Jill talked, but the underlying tension always cut anything they said. And her weapons stayed close.
She checked her guns and rifles and boot knives more often. She found herself wishing for more firepower. Something with more umph!
On the last day they were near a sheep camp. The windmill turned idly in the breeze, ungreased axel making a squeeking sound as it rotated about
The wind seemed to cover the silence. Jill stopped first. "Something is wrong." Jacinda looked at her, staring and swallowing, and pulled both guns. She breathed, boxing her fears away as Regan had taught her. One two three....each in in its place.
She was at peace.
She approached the sheep pen slowly, watching for any danger.
Nothing moved. No bleat or whine or baah. Nothing stirred but the wool fibers amid the the dead bodies.
The carcasses or dozens of sheep lay everywhere, torn, ripped open and fed upon. The stench of bowels and blood and putrefaction filled the air. The mud was churned red and brown.
On the other side of the pen was a pickup. Jacinda crept closer. A dead body lay in the the dirt, head snapped and chunk missing from his neck.
Jacinda swallowed and breathed. Boxes. Tiny boxes. Gradually she felt the calm. In a growing spiral she examined the scene...and her heart fell.
Far too many sheep had excaped, despite the massacre. And at least two people too. Running and fleeing, paths and prints trampling all over each other.
The skinwalker had been smart. There was no way to know where it had gone.