Podarge

A short story about a harpy and a grave realisation.

Our woodland was one to be envied. The bushels sprouted magnificent berries and the trees always bore their delectable fruits. The river would sparkle gloriously under the sun’s rays as it wove its way to our spring. Here, we were said to be safe. Safe from those savages who called themselves civil. They were nothing of the sort, that can be assured.

If ever we so unfortunately crossed their path, we weren’t to survive. Their wicked eyes would catch sight of us and that evil smirk would grow across their faces. From their back, they'd retrieve their simple yet devious weaponry, shooting tapered arrows dipped in something foul. Just one touch of the putrid substance would have us falling from the sky and hitting the ground roughly, our bodies stiff and cold.

I had never witnessed the act but I’d heard the terrible tales of the men with their empty sacks, waiting to fill them with our soft and delicate feathers once they’d been plucked of our corpses. They’d fashion them into headwear just to intimidate and instil fear in us. The scent of our dead feathers could be detected from such a distance that I always had time to flee from the monsters. However, through that horrific scent of fallen comrades was a sweet smell I knew all too well. It so closely resembled the meals which Mother and Father always brought me, wrapped in tightly knit flax leaves.

I’d always insisted on joining my parents in gathering food but they always denied my desperate request. I so dearly desired to be with them so that I, too, could fend for myself someday. However, no matter how much I plead, the answer was always the same. Being the young girl I had, I never dared disobey or rebel. But now, I was no longer a small chick and I knew I’d be able to look after myself. That was the reason behind my decision to leave one day while the two were out foraging.

I followed only my nose through the woods, drifting between tree trunks and hovering above the brush and brambles. Gently, I’d graze my fingers along the plentiful fruits but they didn’t have that signature scent I was oh, so used to and desired so deeply. A quick taste and I quickly spat the foul morsel from my lips, desperate to rid it of my tongue. Then I found it; just a faint trace of what I was unknowingly searching for. It was distant yet distinct and I wasted no time in flying towards it, suddenly ravaged by hunger.

Dodging thick trunks and ducking below low hanging branches, I made my way for a brightly lit clearing. The healthy green grass was tall and ripe for the small critters which feasted upon it. Energetic rabbits would bound through while lanky deer would meander in and graze lazily. This was also where I would catch my first feast.

Standing in the tall grass was one of those hideous men, his boot-clad feet planted firmly in the soil. On his back hung his wooden bow and quiver of arrows. But what was upon his head had me terrified above all else. Silky red feathers sat attached to a thick head band which wrapped around his forehead. Panicking, I let out a blood-curdling screech, causing the man to jump and start. He spun on his heels to look me in the eye, his upper lip curled in that menacing manner I had been told of. He uttered but a single word before pulling both bow and arrow from his back: Harpy.

He pulled back his arrow on the bowstring and released it, sending the arrow spiralling toward me. I’d hardly the time to dodge and was unable to fully evade his attack, leaving the arrow lodged firmly in my right forearm. The sharp piercing of the arrow tip shot pain up my arm and the devastating toxin was sent through my entire body, all but immobilising me entirely. Still, I hung just above the ground, my talons near grazing the emerald blades beneath.

Again, he readied a second arrow and was ready to release it when two feathered figures flew in and drove the man to the ground, clawing aggressively with their sharp talons of steel and baring their gnarled teeth dangerously. The man had his face covered by his arms and his knees tucked to his belly but it wasn’t enough for my saviours as they attacked incessantly. His twisted cries and wails broke through the forest and sent birds flying far from us.

But then those shrieks and howls became gargled as his mouth filled with is own blood, causing him to choke and splutter but to no avail. The crimson which flooded his throat overcame him and soon, his struggles came to a halt and his final breath was drawn, at last. The other two harpies backed away from the new cadaver, revealing his shredded torso and scarlet lips.

The two turned to me, revealing their identities. I almost couldn’t believe that my own two parents were capable of such a thing. To take down a man like that was unfathomable. Their usually pristine claws were stained in the dead man’s blood and their mouths were just as tainted. They stared at me with wide eyes and slack jaws, their own astonishment clear on their faces. 

But even as their chins dripped that sticky cardinal ooze, my nostrils flared at that heavenly scent I’d first caught onto. Wincing from the arrow shaft still protruding from my arm, I followed my nose straight to the fallen hunter, cold and reeking of death. Expecting a foul odour, I was met only with a warm feeling and a salivating tongue. I looked up to both my parents, concerned and curious. They each gave only a silent nod, confirming what I had feared. 

I dropped my wings and fell to the ground gracefully and cradled my arm carefully as I neared the poor man. His midriff had been torn roughly, exposing everything which should have been hidden within. The sight should have been revolting yet I felt myself drawn to it, desperate for a taste.

Perched on my knees and resting my injured arm upon my feathered thighs, I took my free hand and dipped my fingertips into the man’s belly, feeling his still-warm entrails. They stuck to my skin, smooth and damp, giving off a delectable odour which I had been craving all this time. As I pulled them free, I simply admired the deep scarlet stain before touching it to my lips, relishing in the utmost delectation it sent through me.

My parents both looked at me with warmth in their eyes and approving expressions as they knelt down beside me and joined in the feast. I had never felt such an all-consuming hunger in all my life, but now that I was experiencing it, I yearned for more. I had never feasted upon something so warm and… sweet. It was something one could never wish to replicate.

And as we finished the hunter off, we turned to his sack, woven from the same flax leaves of those Mother and Father had brought me. Their contents identical to that which I would feed on, only lacking the extra meat which they always added.

All my life, I had believed these men to be nothing more than uncivilised monsters, intruding on our forest and murdering us for sport. Now I knew. It was not them but us who were to be feared.