Title: The Skin Walker
Part: 1/?
Summary: Abigail Mills is everything to everyone. But can she find the courage to be herself?
Genre: Casefile/Friendship/Slight romance
Rating: K-T safe!
Author's notes and disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, but dang, is Sleepy Hollow amazing or what?
Introduction
A child and dog play in the woods. The fading light of the setting sun streams through the trees and paints the dog and child in an ochre light.
A voice in the distance calls for the child and dog to come and leave the park, but instead, the child and the dog don't listen and continue to play their game of chase.
The sun begins to set in earnest, and four large paws crunch the grass in a thicket near the child and dog. Like a predator, the feet are stealthy, crouched, and waiting.
Again, the mother calls for child and dog. Not wanting to go home, the child and dog decide to run deeper into the forest to hide.
The child and dog run twenty feet, thirty feet, fifty feet away, and they come upon a small clearing among the trees. Seeking a hiding spot, the child darts in the direction of a bush, but his dog begins to bark and whine. The dog turns and tries to get the child to follow him, but the child scolds the dog and walks toward the bush. The dog bites and pulls on the clothes of the child, succeeding in dragging him part way back to his mother, but the child hits the dog, and the dog runs off, whining.
The child returns to the small clearing alone, and walks toward the bush.
The four large paws quietly settle deeper into the grass within the thicket, and the predator readies itself for a chase.
The child is 10 feet away from the bush when he finally hears what his dog heard. A quiet crunch, crunch, crunch of feet slowly moving closer to him. Slowly getting louder and faster. The child freezes. He listens. Another loud crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch, and like a rabbit being chased by a fox, the child knows he is prey.
Panicked, the child bolts toward his parents, yelling and screaming and crying.
Behind him, he hears the crunches turn to pounding of the grass as the predator begins his chase.
The child closes his eyes and is running as fast as he can. Fear begins to swallow him—his feet and arms carry him faster than he has ever gone before, but he knows that it will not be enough to out run the thing behind him.
The child feels his body collide with something, and his body is sent to the floor. Yelling and screaming and in tears, he is incoherent with fear and terror.
His father picks him up and scolds him.
"You will never, EVER, run off in the forest again, James, do you hear me? It is dangerous to be out here, alone, especially at night."
Behind his father, James' mother and dog come into view, and James begins to sob.
"Robert, you are being too hard. He was just playing," scolds James' mother.
"Eugenie, being careless in the wilderness in unacceptable behavior, no matter. Grown men who get lost—that's a life or death situation, and he's just a kid. How much more dangerous is it going to be for him?" Robert turns to his kid and hands him off to his mother. "James, you will be punished when we get home. Meanwhile, think about what you did wrong, and be prepared to apologize for running away from your mother."
Eugenie collects her son from her husband. "Robert." Eugenie shakes her head and soothes her son.
"I'm sorry, Eugenie. He has to learn how to respect nature." Robert turns and looks toward the bushes. An unsettled feeling begins to prick at the hairs of his skin, raising them. "He's got to learn how to respect nature, 'cause it has no respect for him." Robert takes a step towards the bushes. "For any of us."
"Robert? Robert! Where are you going?"
"Nowhere, Jeanie. Take James and go back to the car. I think there's something in there."
"Leave it alone, Robert. Let's just go home. Haven't we had enough for one day?" asked Eugenie. In her frustration, her long hair escapes her ponytail, and she blows the dark stray strands away from her face.
"Just go to the car, Jeanie. Everything will be fine. I've got Duke here with me. Come here, Duke," calls Robert to his dog.
Duke walks over to him, his head hanging low and with his tail between his legs.
Jean and James walk off to the car. Robert watches his wife take his child back, and enjoys the neat sashay of her round hips as she walks away from him. Her hips and her beautiful, beautiful amber eyes, he thinks appreciatively. Six years, and she's still the love of my life.
Duke lets out a low whine and runs a tight circle around his master.
Robert turns back toward the bush and peers into the darkness of its leaves. He doesn't see anything amiss, but he feels as if he is being watched—as if two eyes are following staring at him, following him. And waiting.
A strange challenge hangs heavy in the air. Patient. Inviting. Curious, even. Robert takes a step toward the bush, and hears a crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch from the leaves.
"Is someone there?" Robert asks. "Hello? Hello?"
The crunch of feet on grass grows louder, and Robert walks toward the sound.
Duke whines and does not follow his master.
"Honey?" a voice calls out.
Robert stops ten feet away from the bush and turns. "Jean?"
"Yeah—do you have the keys? I got to the car, but I didn't have the keys on me."
Robert plunges his fists into his jeans pockets, and finds a bunch of keys on a Doctor Who chain. He sighs. "Yeah, Jeanie, I have them."
His wife and son emerge from the forest. Jeanie gives him a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, honey, I know you want to stay, but can we please go home? I'm hungry and he's tired."
Robert watches as his wife's smile crinkles the skin around her amber eyes. He feels love suffuse through him, and he walks toward her. "I'm sorry honey. Let's go home. Come on, Duke. Beef soup for supper. What do you say?"
Duke pants and runs after his master, wagging his tail, and seemingly glad to be leaving the forest.
In the distance, their car engine starts, and the receding crackle of wheel on gravel tells the end of just another day in the park.
From the bush, a pair of female feet emerges. A woman stands in the clearing, naked except for the animal pelt slung carelessly around her slight frame. The ochre light of sunset bounces off dark hair and trim round hips, and a pair of amber eyes takes in the scene around her.
A woman that looks like Jeanie, Robert's wife, stands in the clearing wearing nothing but an animal pelt. The woman licks her lips, and then howls a starving, hungry cry. The woman bares her teeth in anger and frustration and returns to the bush.
In the shadows of the fading light of sunset, the two-legged form dissolves, and a four-legged form takes its place. A pair of red eyes blinks from the dark underbrush, the only trace of a frustrated hunter awaiting more prey.