There are many types of Skin Walker, some are the primal spirits that possess their hosts, others are parasitic organisms that dig deep into the brains of men bending to their control.
All are horrific.
I once knew a man, he was a prospector who believed his skills might come in use down the crypts.
He was right.
I don't know what got into him, but I remember when it got a hold of him.
If I had not known him before, then perhaps I would not have noticed but after the creature gained control of his body, he was like a different man, his personality all twisted and bitter.
But he still knew how to use his pickaxe and it found it's home in ol' Billy's back.
I remember it vividly, the heavy rock in my hand as it beat his head into the dirt.
The rest of the party said that it had been an accident, that Billy's death was not on purpose and the prospector was not to blame.
They called me a murder, said I was the one possessed, not the prospector.
It was only when the damned Skin Walker rose from the ground, half his face hanging from where I'd struck him over and over again.
Then they believed me.
- Your friendly neighbourhood Doctor Loxley