The Nahual

The full moon shone overhead as I scoured the darkness, shotgun in hand. Something was stalking my farm, killing my animals night after night.

This time, I had seen it: a deformed creature, wolf-shaped but with a perverse intelligence in its shifting eyes.

When I fired and hit it, a piercing howl tore through the night. The beast fled into the forest, leaving a trail of blood that I decided to follow.

The deeper I went, the colder and quieter everything became, until I came to a clearing that froze my blood.

There lay the body of a lone man from the village, bleeding to death with the same wound I had inflicted on the creature.

At that moment, the old legends I had heard since I was a child took on an eerie meaning.

The man was a nahual, a being with the ability to transform into an animal by means of a dark pact. It was said that nahuals changed form to protect their loved ones or to spread terror.

I recoiled in horror at the truth. The man died days later, and rumors soon circulated. Some said I had done the right thing by killing him, others feared I had unleashed a curse by killing a nahual.

The truth is that from then on, nights were never the same. People closed their doors and windows as darkness fell, fearing that other nahuals might lurk, waiting for the right moment to strike.

I myself could not help but look over my shoulder every time I went out after dark, feeling the invisible eyes of those creatures on me, watching, lurking in the gloom, ready to transform and attack when I let my guard down.