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Nathan sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's a creature of Native American legend. The worst of the New World monsters," he finally told her mysteriously."It imitates the voices of loved ones to draw its prey out into the open."
He looked at Cheyenne, his eyes startlingly clear. "When I founded this place with Sam and Mike, we were building it to protect monsters from humans, and from themselves. But I also knew we were safeguarding against other monsters. Not all of us are reformed, Cheyenne. Some are too ancient and inhuman to change at the present time."

Cheyenne sat very still, imagining dark figures and creatures lurking just outside of the camp's borders, deep in the pines. She shivered. Nathan reached slowly across the desk and grasped one of her hands in his, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey," he said, his voice soothing, "I am here to do everything in my power to give your generation of monsters the brightest future I can. I don't want you to be afraid. I just want you to understand."

He let Cheyenne go and she stood up slowly. "I understand." She murmured.

"And you may find yourself wanting to tell your friends about this creature. Surely more than the two of us heard it. And you may, if you like."

"Nathan?" Cheyenne stared at her shoes, afraid to ask but wanting so badly to know. "What is this thing, really? I've never heard of something so… dark."

Nathan considered her for a moment. He reached to his right for a pencil, and pulled out a slip of paper. On it he wrote something, and then folded it in half. When he handed it to Cheyenne she felt like she was receiving some dangerous artifact.

"Just don't say it out loud, please," Nathan told her. "The name has power." And then he smiled at her, a confident, reassuring gesture.

"I won't." She promised.

When Cheyenne had left the office and made her way out of the Lodge, she took the paper from her pocket and turned it over and over in her fingers, without unfolding it. It wasn't until she was safe in her cabin, curled up on the bed, that she dared look at it.

In the middle of the paper in Nathan's sharp, tall handwriting was one bizarre word: Skinwalker.

Cheyenne didn't know why, but it disturbed her the way no other monster name had before.

Description
Nathan sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's a creature of Native American legend. The worst of the New World monsters," he finally told her mysteriously."It imitates the voices of loved ones to draw its prey out into the open."
He looked at Cheyenne, his eyes startlingly clear. "When I founded this place with Sam and Mike, we were building it to protect monsters from humans, and from themselves. But I also knew we were safeguarding against other monsters. Not all of us are reformed, Cheyenne. Some are too ancient and inhuman to change at the present time."

Cheyenne sat very still, imagining dark figures and creatures lurking just outside of the camp's borders, deep in the pines. She shivered. Nathan reached slowly across the desk and grasped one of her hands in his, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey," he said, his voice soothing, "I am here to do everything in my power to give your generation of monsters the brightest future I can. I don't want you to be afraid. I just want you to understand."

He let Cheyenne go and she stood up slowly. "I understand." She murmured.

"And you may find yourself wanting to tell your friends about this creature. Surely more than the two of us heard it. And you may, if you like."

"Nathan?" Cheyenne stared at her shoes, afraid to ask but wanting so badly to know. "What is this thing, really? I've never heard of something so… dark."

Nathan considered her for a moment. He reached to his right for a pencil, and pulled out a slip of paper. On it he wrote something, and then folded it in half. When he handed it to Cheyenne she felt like she was receiving some dangerous artifact.

"Just don't say it out loud, please," Nathan told her. "The name has power." And then he smiled at her, a confident, reassuring gesture.

"I won't." She promised.

When Cheyenne had left the office and made her way out of the Lodge, she took the paper from her pocket and turned it over and over in her fingers, without unfolding it. It wasn't until she was safe in her cabin, curled up on the bed, that she dared look at it.

In the middle of the paper in Nathan's sharp, tall handwriting was one bizarre word: Skinwalker.

Cheyenne didn't know why, but it disturbed her the way no other monster name had before.