Skinningcat sensed his way through the streets as he drove. An unspoken feeling guided him beneath the muted street lamps and the empty roads of the night. He worked night shift at a bowling alley and practiced shamanism in his bedroom, though his family thought he was just.. being rebellious or something. Sound waves carrying ancient tunes wended their way like bullets at his ears, pierced his drums, filtered through his cerebrum and energized his mood. The darkness of the streets always seemed like a better way to view mana and astral sigs. He crossed the bridge over the freeway, passed the malls and the darkened unlit businesses, passed the school and made a hard turn off a main boulevard into an alley. He sensed it. Saw someone’s shadow in the alley at the top of the hill. He could feel the concern and a stare even though he was out of range. He sped up like he was expected. But he wasn’t. Passing disheveled chain link fences, barred apartment parking garages, telephone poles and dumpsters, he approached. His wheels crunched on asphalt as his vehicle crawled to a slower pace, headlights illuminated a face accented in shadows, a fellow dressed in all black with large eyes. He rolled his window down as he closed in on the individual… an old friend he hasn’t seen in years in the dark of the night. The clouds in the starry sky swirled spirals near and around a large yellow moon.

In The Shadows of Seattle