Tepee of Terror
"Akando, tie the rope to that tree," Milap whispered, his voice low and tense, barely audible over the distant howl of the wind. His tone carried an edge of urgency, as though the surrounding darkness pressed in closer with each passing second.
"The tent is perfectly tied. Go and inform the chief that the tepee is ready," Akando replied, his voice calm yet deliberate, as he dusted off his hands with meticulous care. The flickering shadows cast by the moonlight made his movements appear oddly distorted, as though the night itself were watching.
He turned to scrutinize the tepee with critical eyes, every muscle in his body taut. His gaze flickered uneasily toward the darkened tree line that encircled the clearing like an impenetrable barrier. The conical structure stood out starkly against the oppressive blackness of the forest, its pale fabric stretched taut over the skeletal wooden poles. The ropes creaked ominously as the wind picked up, the sound eerily reminiscent of strained whispers, echoing through the stillness.
Tonight, this tepee had been erected at the heart of Waterfront Park, a desolate and rarely traversed stretch of land at the edge of the Seward Highway. The area was infamous for its eerie reputation, a place where shadows were said to move on their own, and whispers carried on the wind without a source. Inside the tepee, the cavernous space loomed with an unsettling emptiness. The damp, cold ground seemed to absorb sound, and a shallow pit of embers in the center emitted a faint, otherworldly glow.
"Chief is coming," Milap muttered after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. The words carried with them an undercurrent of dread, as if summoning the chief were akin to summoning a storm.
Akando’s sharp eyes caught the silhouettes of Chief Paytah and his wife, Orenda, emerging from the treeline. The pair moved with an almost otherworldly grace, their figures cutting through the night like phantoms. They were not alone. Following closely behind was a third figure—a woman shrouded in an oversized black hoodie, her face obscured by the shadows of the fabric. She seemed to melt into the darkness, her presence unsettlingly silent.
Chief Paytah, a man in his fifties with a commanding presence, approached the tepee with deliberate steps. His movements were measured, almost predatory, as though every step brought him closer to some inevitable conclusion. He was clad in a tunic crafted from tanned moose hide, the pale material shimmering faintly under the faint moonlight. Intricate beadwork adorned the garment, the patterns appearing almost alive in the flickering light. He wore a headband decorated with feathers and beads, giving him the appearance of a hunter crowned by nature itself.
"Have all the arrangements been made?" Paytah asked, his voice low and guttural, carrying a weight that seemed to echo through the clearing.
"Yes, Chief. We are ready to begin," Akando replied, though his usual tone of obedience was tinged with unease. He and Milap had served Paytah faithfully for years, yet tonight, the chief seemed less a man and more a predator cloaked in human skin. There was something unnervingly primal in the way he moved, the way his eyes glinted in the dim light.
"Lady, come here," Chief Paytah commanded, his sharp gaze cutting through the woman standing behind Orenda.
The hooded figure stepped forward without hesitation, the motion mechanical yet deliberate. Beneath the oversized hoodie, her slight frame seemed dwarfed by the magnitude of the moment, as though the very air around her pressed down with the weight of unseen forces.
"You understand that the feud between the Alutiiq and the Dena’ina has endured for generations, steeped in blood and betrayal. But tonight, I am breaking tradition. I have set up this sacred space to summon the spirit of a missing Alutiiq," Paytah said, his voice layered with an edge that sent a ripple of unease through the air.
"I am grateful for your help," Aponi replied quickly, though her voice wavered, betraying the tremor of fear coursing through her veins.
Three days ago, Aponi had received a cryptic call from Orenda, urging her to come. The pretense of visiting a sick cousin had been a thin and fragile cover for her true purpose—to seek answers about her daughters, who had vanished into the woods without a trace. Now, standing before the chief of the Dena’ina, Aponi felt the weight of danger pressing against her chest like an iron chain, unrelenting and suffocating.
Paytah’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with a feral intensity. "Do not mistake this for charity. Soon, the Alutiiq chief will learn of your actions, and you will have to answer for them. On that day, you will tell him I summoned the spirit as a gesture of goodwill to end the rivalry between our tribes."
Aponi nodded, though her heart pounded violently in her chest.
"I hope no one here will betray my presence," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze darting nervously to Milap and Akando.
"My men are loyal, but secrets have a way of escaping," Paytah said ominously, his tone a growl that seemed to reverberate through the still air. "Prepare yourself for what’s to come."
With that, he lifted the fabric flap of the tepee and stepped inside, his movements fluid and unnervingly silent. Aponi, Orenda, Milap, and Akando followed closely, removing their shoes at the entrance to avoid disturbing the sanctity of the space. The grass beneath their feet was damp and cold, sending an icy chill through Aponi’s body that felt more than physical.
Inside, the air was thick and oppressive, as though an unseen force had claimed the space. Shadows danced wildly on the pale walls of the tepee, cast by the erratic flames of the fire. Orenda's tunic mirrored her husband’s, the beadwork on her garment glinting like watchful eyes. Milap and Akando, dressed in black tunics adorned with sinister green patterns, seemed less like men and more like shadows given form. Milap’s hands gleamed with bone-white bangles, and Akando’s wooden mask, marked with cryptic black lines, transformed him into a creature of nightmare.
"The spirits we summon tonight are restless. Some are dangerous," Paytah said, his voice low and guttural, like the growl of a wolf. "But one spirit in particular—one who has been wronged—will answer my call."
Aponi sat a foot away from the fire, her body stiff with apprehension as if frozen by the weight of his words.
"Under no circumstances are you to leave your place," Orenda warned, her voice sharp and commanding. "If you do, the protective circle will break, and the forest spirits will devour your soul before you can scream."
Aponi nodded, gripping the damp grass beneath her fingers. "I won’t move. Begin."
Milap and Akando began to chant, their voices low and guttural, the words alien and harsh, reverberating off the fabric walls.
"Háázhó’ógo bee ádíní, Sela," they intoned, the sound slithering through the air like a living thing.
The fire roared to life, its flames shifting to an unnatural blue. A deep, resonant growl echoed from the shadows, and the tepee filled with the metallic tang of blood and decay.
Milap and Akando swayed violently, their bodies twisting in ways that seemed unnatural. Their eyes glowed—a fiery amber for Milap, an icy blue for Akando. They weren’t just invoking spirits; they were calling upon the curse within their blood.
The fire crackled violently, the shadows on the walls contorting into grotesque, wolf-like shapes. Aponi’s heart raced as a low, guttural voice emerged from the darkness.
"Who dares summon me?"
The air grew colder, and the presence of something ancient and malevolent enveloped the tepee, pressing down on Aponi with a force that felt as though it might crush her. She closed her eyes, gripping the ground, as the world around her descended into a nightmare.