Fated

it’s usually followed by, “First things first! There is still so much to teach you, nieta, and so little time.”
    It’s that last part that bothers me: So little time.
    It’s not like she’s old. Statistically speaking, she should have several more decades ahead of her, at least. But between the nosebleeds and blood-spewing cough, I can’t help but worry about the state of her health. Yet every time I ask her about it, she just waves the subject away, tells me she’s fine, and moves on to something else.
    I watch her lead the way, her step light, her long dark braid swaying behind her, as I say, “I met Xotichl.”
    Paloma turns, a smile lighting her face. “Aw, Xotichl. A girl who is sweet, and mischievous, and wise beyond her years. Which of those faces did she share with you, nieta ?”
    I think for a moment, then I look at her and say, “Pretty much all of them. She says she’s a client of yours—she’s not sick, is she?”
    Paloma shakes her head, and I’m surprised by the flood of relief that washes over me.
    “While the content of our meetings are confidential, I can say that Xotichl has the rare ability to see what most sighted people miss. What she lacks in outer vision, she makes up for in inner vision—her insight is unsurpassed.” Paloma nods, leans down to admire a particularly fragrant bloom that I can smell from where I stand. “She’s unmoved by the usual superficial things most people get too caught up in to look any deeper. And without that sort of distraction, she’s able to get right to the heart of the matter—to read the true energy behind a person’s actions and words. Which is one of the reasons she’s always remained unswayed by the Richters. They’re unable to reach her, unable to alter her perception. She is a rare child indeed and has a great sense of humor. I’m sure she had quite a bit of fun at your expense. Though I have to admit, I supplied her with all the information she needed. I know you had a rough day, I hope you won’t hold it against her?”
    I think about our strange first encounter in the hallway and quickly dismiss Paloma’s concern. “Her boyfriend, Auden, drove me home. They invited me to meet them at the Rabbit Hole tonight to see his band, but … I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m up for it, much less ready to go back to that place—or at least not just yet anyway.”
    Paloma gestures for me to take a seat on the mosaic tiled bench that sits adjacent to the birdbath, saying, “You’re right, nieta. You are not quite ready yet. But by the end of our lesson, you will be.”
    I squint, wondering what she could possibly teach me in the next few hours that’ll prepare me to return to the place where I nearly lost my mind, not to mention my life. Surely she was speaking in metaphors when she asked if I was ready to fly?
    “I’m going to teach you to hop with the rabbits, to slither with the snakes, to run with the horses, to crawl with the scorpions, and to fly with the ravens. And you’ll be surprised to find that it’s so much easier than you think.”
    My eyes light on hers, not knowing which part to believe, if any. It seems like such an impossible feat, and I highly doubt I’ll succeed.
    “Much like you merged your energy with the energy of the dream catcher to lift it off its hook and bring it to you—you will now practice merging your energy with true living spirit—with flesh-and-blood creatures—in order to share their experience.”
    “You mean, like … shape-shifting ?” I ask, already dead set against it. What if I get stuck? What if I get lost and can’t find my way back? I like being a girl. I have no desire to live out the rest of my life as a lizard, a scorpion, or anything else.
    Paloma laughs, her voice soft and reassuring, as she says, “No, nieta. You will not become them, but rather you will experience what it’s like to be them. You will learn to see what they see, experience what they experience. It’s a skill steeped in much magick and mysticism—one that normally comes much later in the training, but you’re ready right now. I can feel it. It is time for you to begin.”
    I don’t say a word. I have so many questions, I don’t know which to ask first.
    Paloma turns, her gaze surveying the yard, moving past the empty stall waiting for Kachina’s arrival, and landing on the first animal she sees, which happens to be a mangy white cat carefully picking its way across the thick adobe wall.
    She