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I remember flying. The crickets began chirping, the grasshoppers sang, and then all went silent. They called them skin-walkers.
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Her skin eritic, flushed with gooseflesh. What she saw before her was not her love of old. It was the evil spirit that had entered his body, vulnerable and unprotected in death on that awful desert slope. She rushed through her mind, trying to remember anything she could about this spirit monster. The pumawha were shape-shifters, able to mimic human and animal form, and also fuck mate Dabrowa Zabaotne inhabit the dead.
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Maybe the thing was just giving her a head start. A predator, playing with its prey.
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