The ones I love hand words to me that drop like dragonflies in the summer heat. Promises, hopes, reassurances. I can taste it underneath–their fear, their denial. Change is a wild animal that stalks you in the night, her eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. They fear her and ignore her all the same, but I see her everywhere I turn. She calls out to me and whispers that it’s my time before clamping her jaws around my throat.
I have been waiting to hear her call, watching her watch me for years. We’ve become very familiar with each other. I know the motion of her gait, every shade and hue of her fur, the coarse whisper of her voice in my head. I’ll see you soon, she reminds me. Nothing lasts forever. Don’t worry, I’m waiting for you. I’ll be here when you’re ready.
My people don’t know the animal of Change the way I do. They haven’t met her yet, haven’t danced with her the way I have. And, god, have we danced. They can’t see her form shifting in the shadows, watching and waiting. They don’t know her bite, the euphoric and agonizing sting of her teeth sinking deep, deep into your flesh. They think they’re safe from her, that if they hold on tight enough, she can’t tear them away from me. They think that they can simply say no.
But I know better. I understand. Time drips down the bones within me, curling around my tendons and muscles, pouring clarity into my blood. I kneel to the ground, cold and damp with autumn, and feel the earth holding me. Change ambles over and sinks down next to me, resting her snout in my lap. I stroke her head gently and stare at the tall stone structure in front of us.
The Tower stands proudly, well-kept and ornate, having been built steadily over many years. I know every brick, every crack of its face. I can feel the cool roughness of the stone underneath my fingertips from meters away. There’s a buzzing tension in the air, and I feel the coyote’s hair stand up where I’m stroking her. The tone builds, pushing on my skin with a pressure almost like an itch. The animal lifts her head from my leg and turns toward The Tower. We both take the same deep breath before a blinding bolt of lightning slashes down from the sky, piercing The Tower in front of us.
She crawls the rest of the way into my lap and settles down, keeping her eyes steady on the structure as it shatters. Together, we behold the walls becoming nothing more than piles of ruin, watch the bricks tumble to the ground, and squint our eyes at the blaze that begins to consume the wreckage. We sit until The Tower disappears, until there is no more fuel to burn, until nothing sits before us but dust.
When it is done, she unfolds herself from me and walks away without a glance. I push off the skin of the planet to stand and walk in the opposite direction–down the empty desert road that fades unseen into the horizon. As I carry on, I run my fingers across the wounds she left with her teeth, feeling them turn closer to scar with each step.
Method of Mancy 