The End of Innocence

The tiger walked beside Lindy, butting it’s big head against her hand.  Lindy jerked away, annoyed, and crossed her arms over her chest.  The tiger was getting skinnier; she could see it’s ribs through it’s sagging skin.  

She didn’t want the tiger anymore, didn’t need it.  But still it followed her.  

“Your magic is dying,” the old woman said, nodding to the tiger.  

Lindy considered this, running her hand along the big cat’s flanks, feeling the sunken hollows where there should be flesh.  Her own flesh blossomed, straining towards maturity.  

“I have no magic,” she said.  

The tiger roared beside her and the sound rattled her bones.  She saw the shape of the sound, it’s colors and contours; she smelled it’s scent.  She could grasp it if she wanted, mold and transmute it, turn it into something solid, or something ephemeral.  

She shut her eyes and turned away; continued walking.  

Sometime later she reached down absently to stroke the big cat’s head.  It wasn’t there.  


Thank you for reading; I hope that you enjoyed it!  


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