Salt Lake City was never completely peaceful: and thus, the first few people who died

while mourned
were dismissed fairly quickly. With all the wildlife surrounding the area, most people believed that
those poor souls had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A few even blamed the Navajos – but no one quite dared to point fingers at them. A year or so
passed like this, with widows mourning their husbands and children crying for their parents, but little
was done.

Well, right until David Smith passed away. As the mayor's son, the lad never truly had limits on what
he did. He roamed the city's outskirts as it belonged to him, shooting any animal that he came in
contact with. He wasn't a bad kid but misled a little: or so many of the citizens said. After all, it was
hard to judge the spoiled boy to the point of not knowing respect for others.

Well, of course, youth his age disliked him, but even they did not dare show it, knowing his father's
fury would follow rapidly. The mayor was worse than his son, after all: all threats and shouting,
and...

Rumours said he's even shot a woman who claimed to have been carrying his child.

Needless to say, when his son disappeared, the mayor's approach to the case of the dead – and
missing – people changed very quickly. First, he grew furious, believing that the disappearance of his
kid (and maybe the others) might have been connected to the Navajo Nation.

When David was found near the border, split into two with his insides spilling out...

Things took a turn for the worse.

He didn't even allow anyone to touch the corpse – he ran to his son on his own feet, shaking wildly
as he fell to his knees. The grass was stained red all around, a tell-tale truth of the vicious attack.

The mayor was in denial at first, shouting nonsense at how that couldn't have been his child. How
there was no way, he would lose his son, his heir, this way.

But those eyes frozen open in fear, he knew so well, for they were so similar to his own.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a large snake slither away.

It wasn't the first time a corpse spotted an animal – and an idea slowly formed in his head.

The Detective, who rarely ever gave out his name for personal reasons, arrived at that scene – well,
with the corpse already cleaned up and a still-weeping father.

Being from out of town, he knew little of the spoiled child or the other deaths that had occurred: it
was easier for him to focus on what was going on.

It was a little surprising to him, though, that at least ten had been torn apart by some animal – or
several, really – before he had been called in. The local police had made an effort here and there,
surely, but they haven't really… accomplished much.

"It must be those damned Navajos!" The mayor shouted, slamming his fist against the wall. Two days
had passed since he'd summoned the Detective to help – and the man was still doing nothing but
paperwork in his office. So just how hard would it have been to track down a crazy killer?
"I doubt it, sir. All of the corpses we have found, including that of your son, seemed to have been
mauled by some sort of an animal – or several. Some had poisonous snake bites up down their
ankles; others had bites all over. It's almost odd how inconsistent this case really seems to be.

"Well, you are the professional! You should still be able to solve it!" The mayor looked as if he had
aged ten years during the week he had spent in mourning. His wife died while giving birth, so he
truly had no one to lean on. His only chance at gaining some peace was catching the culprit.

"I would advise most people to stay at home during the investigation. However, at this point, I do
believe that this had been merely a series of well, unfortunate events that could have occurred
anywhere with such diverse wildlife.

"Unfortunate events? My son was murdered! Murdered, I say!" The mayor's grief turned into rage
quickly: he seemed ready to grab the Detective by the neck if needed.

"I will figure out what's going on," the Detective muttered. While he wasn't intimidated, he knew
that he had to have the powerful man on his side. Such a case could end up being what would make
him famous, after all. So… he started putting two and two together, researching exactly what could
have been going on.

His first trip was to the library as he tried to look up similar occurrences. That was how he ran into
the information on the Skinwalker Ranch – and Skinwalkers in general. There wasn't much known
about them. Many even believed them to be extinct – or at least, too timid to show their faces.
However, there were a few rumours – and legends, as well – about how… they were less human
than they had sworn to be.

The Detective was unsure about what to think. As an outsider, he hadn't even heard of them before.
From the pictures, they were just shamans, mostly who claimed to be able to turn into animals,
but…they seemed harmless for the most part.

So, he did the only thing he could think of and organised a group of foreign visitors to the border.
They knew little of what had been going on, so they were much easier to lure there than citizens
who had been instructed to stay inside. Was it unethical? Surely, but…

Things haven't been going all that well for him lately. While he had solved numerous cases, younger
detectives often overshadowed him: the only reason he had gotten this job was that the mayor
wasn't great at doing research, and his name was the only one that popped up.

It was a sunny day, almost too hot. Unfortunately, the tent they had set out for did little to combat
the heat.

Only three people were there other than the Detective after he had decided that five would have
been too numerous: if it were just an animal attacking, it hardly would have decided to go there
seeing them.

But…

He only left the campsite for a few minutes.

By the time he was back… they were all gone. Bodies in a twisted heap on the ground, huge chunks
of meat missing.
And… in the distance, he heard an eagle shriek. The Detective grabbed his gun and aimed: however,
as the bird fell, it changed. By the time it landed, it was a bear, larger than any specimen he had ever
seen before.

"A skinwalker," the Detective muttered. He aimed, once again, but then… he heard it.

"Daddy, would you really shoot me?"

His daughter.

The very kid who was supposed to be back in their hometown, studying, was now standing in front
of him, replacing the animal.

"You're not real." The Detective muttered. There was no way that his baby girl was there. But… then
why did it seem like it was her?

When she raised her head, he quickly looked away.

"Get away from me," his little girl shrieked as if she was attacked: but no one was there.

Still, he couldn't just ignore her misery. He had to do something! Only, he had no idea what. It wasn't
her… but it was still so hard to aim his gun at her once again.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Just stay still, darling…." Now it was his wife, her sultry stone sweet as she stepped closer, grabbing
his chin.

He took a step back and then another.

"Show your real face, you monster." The Detective snarled, aiming at the throat of the creature. He
regretted that decision as he watched his 'wife's skin melt away, burning off until nothing but grey
was present. The creature shrieked, attacking him with a series of quickly slashes.

A gunshot echoed in the space, and then another.

The Detective still didn't dare raise his head, but he kept shooting until he ran out of ammo. He
heard nothing for a while, just the sound of sizzling flesh as the Skinwalker collapsed, laying on the
ground in a strange heap.

"I believe something odd is going on at the Ranch," the Detective muttered into his Dictaphone,
hoping to be able to record what was going on more or less." It seems that a skinwalker, a female
specimen, had gone… berserk, almost. I am unsure why." As he talked, he prodded at the form
sprawled out on the ground with his foot." It does seem like it's dead, however-"

Just as he said that, the air around him seemed to change; a hand grabbed at his foot, pulling until
he lost footing and landed roughly on his back. The Skinwalker hissed in a strange tongue, slithering
over him as if it had taken the form of a snake.

And then… dark, bottomless eyes bore into his own.

The Detective tried to tear his gaze away, but it was too late.

His body started to tremble on its own accord, hands raised as fingers dug into his skin until he bled.

The famed Detective was found that way a few days later, with a crazed expression in his eyes – and
what seemed like blood dripping from his mouth.
The case had been solved with his recordings, but the genius was lost as he would never be the same
again. The gaze of the dying Skinwalker had twisted something in his mind: and destroyed who he
once had been.