In the remote expanses of New Mexico, where the winds whispered tales of ancient spirits and shadows danced between the jagged rocks, there was a small village nestled against the foothills. The people lived simply, aware of the traditions passed down through generations, but one story lingered above all others: the tale of the skinwalker.

Every child grew up hearing of the skinwalker, a creature shrouded in myth and malice. Unlike the benevolent spirits that watched over the village, the skinwalker was a wicked shape-shifter, often taking on the guise of animals—wolves, coyotes, and even bears. It was said that a skinwalker was a witch who had turned to dark magic, able to wear the skin of any creature they chose. To encounter one was considered worse than a curse.

One autumn evening, as the sun bled into the horizon, casting an eerie orange glow over the landscape, a young woman named Elena decided to venture beyond the village with her younger brother, Mateo. He was entranced by the stories of brave hunters and hidden treasures, while she simply wanted to prove that the tales were just that—stories.

As the sun dipped lower, the forest around them...