Flight of the Golden Harpy (17 page)

She motioned toward a platform that rose from the floor, similar to the one in the old man’s home. Shail, realizing his mistake, turned away from the threshold, hoping to return to the quilt and spacious skies, but she quickly caught his arm and tugged on him to enter. He shook his head and planted his feet, refusing to step inside.

“Is everything going to be a battle?” she asked.

Why could she not empathize with his feelings? Human things made him nervous. For decades, harpies were not only shot with weapons, but also were poisoned, netted, and trapped. Every human object posed a potential danger to a harpy. His skittish behavior was a reflection of his caution, for a naïve harpy was a dead harpy.

She now wanted him within the man dwelling. Its solid walls, covered ceiling, and shut door screamed of no escape. A brown-wing would quickly succumb to despair, shock, and even heart failure if placed in a building because harpies, like all nonhuman animals, lived in the present. A future of possible freedom was impossible to foresee.

Shail’s golden bloodline made him tougher than most, but the cabin still terrified him. He hissed at the female, who pulled his arm to enter the potential trap. Should he listen to his natural instincts or please her?

Kari released his arm with his hostile sizzling sound. Like the vehicle, he was too strong to be forced. “Please, Shail. I promise the cabin won’t hurt you,” she said. He pleaded with his eyes and then sheepishly stuck his head inside, sniffing the air. He carefully stepped over the threshold and looked up at the ceiling. His body shuddered, and he retreated outside. She walked to him and gently took his hand. “Come, Shail. It will be okay.”

Shail swallowed hard and let her coax him to the doorway. The scent of men was barely detectable in the cabin, conveying a hunter had not been there for many seasons. He glanced down at the little female holding his hand and recalled how she faced down and outwitted four hunters to save him. She expects more of me, he thought. At that moment, he decided to suppress his fears and animal instincts and enter her human world, though his choice could be fatal. He was, after all, a golden harpy who had survived man’s worst. He followed her into the cabin.

She led him to the white platform she called a bed and beckoned him to lie down. He placed one knee on the material, but like a snare net, it collapsed with his weight. He jumped away to avoid being tangled. She giggled at him and plopped on the bed. He tossed his hair and sniffled, relaying dislike of her impertinence. Pushing on the sheets, he realized the bed was only soft like a moss nest. He crawled on it and curled up beside her.

“See? It’s not so bad,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “You’ll heal faster if your wounds stay clean.” She got up and went back to fixing up the cabin.

Shail rested his chin on his arm and watched her remove the dirt and leaves, placing them outside. Humans were the oddest of creatures, he thought. After tearing down the trees, they constructed impenetrable buildings, traveled in confining covered machines, and wore heavy clothing, all with the purpose of keeping nature away. Did they truly believe that dirt, wind, rain, and sun could hurt them? The female had laughed at his fears, but he thought hers were far more absurd, observing her eradicate every spot of dust. It concerned him that they had been raised worlds apart, and he wondered where they would live if they remained together. For now, he’d give in and dwell in her world, hoping to gain her trust.

*   *   *

While cleaning the cabin, Kari talked to Shail, explaining chairs for sitting, tables for eating, beds for sleeping. Although he appeared interested, he didn’t respond, so she was unsure if he understood, but her rambling kept him tranquil. She took a break and sat down beside him, ruffling the long locks that hung over his royal-blue eyes. “I can tell you’re trying very hard,” she said. The more he surrendered to her wishes, the more she felt at ease with him, knowing the sedative patches could be thrown away.

“I’m going outside now to climb on the roof,” she said, “so I can fix the solar strips, and the cabin will have water and light.”

He tilted his head in confusion.

“I know.” She sighed. “Way too much information.” She put her hand in front of his face. “Stay here.”

He again gave her a quizzical look.

“Don’t pull that. I know you understand,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

He lowered his head on a pillow.

Grabbing a rusted ax she had discovered in a closet, she left the cabin and crawled up a tree and onto the roof. She removed a fallen tree limb and repaired the broken connections on the solar strips. They would take a full day to recharge. She climbed down and glanced through the cabin door. Shail had his face tucked in his feathers and appeared asleep.

Kari turned and looked at the conspicuous vehicle parked out front. Placing the ax inside, she hopped into the driver’s seat and pressed the starter. The engine sputtered for a moment before hovering a few feet off the ground. She drove into the jungle and parked the vehicle near thick blue ferns. Using the ax, she cut branches, cloaking the entire vehicle under foliage.

Wiping her sweaty brow, she flexed her back muscles and returned to the clearing. She looked at the quiet cabin and figured Shail had remained asleep inside. It was late afternoon, and she had accomplished a lot in one day. Longing for a cool drink and bath, she set out for the stream. She could hardly wait to strip off her dirty clothes. The waterfall was heaven, washing away all grime and weariness. Halfheartedly she stepped from the gushing water, but immediately heard the sound of an engine. A hunter, my father, her thoughts raced, and Shail is trapped inside. Frantically she pulled on her clothes, grabbed the ax, and crashed recklessly through the underbrush toward the sound.

As the sound came closer, her adrenaline rose as she prepared to fight any man who harmed her harpy. She bolted around a thick cluster of ferns with the raised ax, but came to a stop. In front of her was the old blue vehicle, hovering in idle, and still covered with shrubs. The driver’s door stood open, and she quickly looked around. “Who are you?” she called out, holding the ax. Shail slipped out from behind a tree.

“Jesus, Shail!” She heaved a sigh and lowered her crude weapon. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He disregarded her ranting and tiptoed closer to the hovering machine. Bending over, he looked beneath it. He was obviously perplexed that it could rise off the ground with no wings.

“I’m glad you’re becoming so brave, but some things you shouldn’t play with.” She reached through the vehicle door and pushed the off button. The terrain vehicle settled on the ground and was silent. Slamming the door, she watched her inquisitive male scrutinize the machine. He placed his ear near the hood and listened for a heartbeat, then tapped, sniffed, and tasted the metal. He tossed his hair, fluttered his wings, and kicked it, adding another dent to the side.

“Come now, Shail. Let’s go back to the cabin. You killed it.”

He lifted his bloodstained sash and marked the vehicle with his urine.

Kari shook her head at his animal antics and mumbled, “Killed it and used the poor vehicle as a toilet. At least you’re housebroken.”

They walked out of the trees toward the cabin. At the door, Shail hesitated and then leaped over the entrance as if something would grab him. He glanced at her with a raised head. She bit her bottom lip and turned away, refraining from laughing at his cute idiosyncrasies. He reclined on the bed, and Kari picked up some fruit, offered him a piece, and sat down beside him. As she nibbled, she felt his hand run across her wet hair and down her back. Her skin became covered with goose bumps and his intoxicating touch was overpowering, but she leaped off the bed, away from him.

“No,” she stammered, “I’m not sure we belong together.” As soon as she spoke the words, she was sorry. Her father’s and Charlie’s warnings plagued her mind, and she also wondered if Shail would back off when asked. His recovery had been swift, and if he chose to mate, he now might be capable of outrunning her.

Shail lowered his head on the sheet and stared up at her. “I would never force you,” he conveyed into her subconscious. “Fearing death and having no fledgling, I sought a bonding too soon. My fears caused yours. I regret this.”

Hearing his soft voice and his explanation, she covered her mouth and her eyes welled up with tears. Understanding his motives, she felt ashamed for distrusting him, especially when he had placed his life in her hands. He was incapable of rape. “I’m not afraid of you, Shail. I am afraid of this commitment.”

She ran out of the cabin and took the path to the ocean. On a windy cliff, she gazed out at the water. How could she make Shail understand? Her mother had died in a harpy’s arms. If she bonded with him, would her life be over? She didn’t trust her father, but Charlie would never lie to her. Her heart belonged to the harpy, but her brain told her to hold back and weigh the risks. The tug of war within was agonizing. When Shail was healed and could fly, would she stay or leave him?

She sat on the ocean cliff until the sun sank into the horizon. Making her way back on the dusky path, she entered the shadowy cabin. On the bed, Shail’s vague figure rested, offset by the white sheets. She took a seat on the bed near him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’ve waited a long time for me, and—”

Shail leaned forward and put two fingers to her mouth, stopping her justification. “There is no need to tell,” he relayed. “Sleep now.” He reclined, and she curled up in his arms. His wing went over them.

*   *   *

Shail held her into the night until her distress gave way to sleep. Although she thought him childlike, he comprehended her dilemma. She had spent her whole life with the human creatures that hated and feared harpies. The men were responsible for poisoning her mind. She loved him, but she did not know him or his kind.

Shail closed his eyes, tortured by his mistake. Distressed, dying, and drugged, he had attempted a bonding without waiting to recover, so he could sense her mind. Their telepathic dreams had confirmed her desires for him, and he had acted, based on the dreams, but the dreams were wrong. Her fragile mind was confused and full of doubt about harpies, and worse, he added to her fears, confirming the men’s lies. She was unsure if she would remain in his harpy world and become his mate or go back to the safe human world she trusted. He wanted to talk to her and tell her all these things, but her telepathy was very weak. She could only receive short messages from him, and he was just beginning to learn the human language of noisy words. Now we lie encased in one another’s arms, he thought, but so distant.

9

John and Charlie meandered into the dining room and sat down at the table. Maria quietly served them dinner. For two days they had risen before dawn and searched for the old blue vehicle, returning late at night. “Where could she be?” John said wearily, staring at the uneaten food. “We’ve covered every main road from Westend to Terrance.”

“I’d be surprised if we had found her on the highway. Kari is too smart to stay near a road,” Charlie said. “She doesn’t fear the jungle and has gone there.”

“I should have listened to you from the start,” John said. “Tomorrow, we’ll hit the closest logging roads. God, I hope she’s not in the jungle. She has no food, no weapon, and now there’re these deadly beetles. Even the broken-winged harpy can’t protect her.” He poked his food with a knife. “I should’ve killed that little sucker years ago. She’d be safe now and with a decent life ahead of her. And I wouldn’t be walking the floors at night.”

“She is safe, John,” Charlie said. “The harpy may be crippled, but he is no common brown. He is a golden and precious to his flocks. They would watch over him and her.”

“I know you’ve spent years sneaking around the woods, watching the creatures, but you don’t know that for sure.”

Charlie glared. “Okay, don’t believe me. After all, I am just a stupid old man.”

John took a sip of wine and glanced at the irritated Indian. “Let’s hear it,” he said, setting his glass on the table.

“I’ve seen brown harpies protect goldens,” Charlie said, leaning back in his chair. “Back when there were many goldens, I stumbled upon a nest of yellow-winged fledglings. In seconds, I was surrounded by browns. They fluttered their wings and threw their bodies at my feet, trying to distract me. The flocks prize their blond harpies, treat them like royalty, and Kari has her own harpy guardian. Outside of Terrance, she wandered into a pride of grogins. Before I could fire a shot, a brown flew down and scared off the grogins.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” John growled, rising from the table.

“She begged me not to,” Charlie said. “A harpy in contact with your daughter would raise your concern and anger. It would widen the wedge between you and her. Kari came back as she left, still fond of harpies. I knew she and the golden male would meet again, but I hoped she’d have the strength to walk away. Unfortunately, she found him injured and dying. He saved her life, John. She was obligated to save his.”

John returned to his seat and stared at the plate. “You know her better than me. Once he heals, do you think she’ll stay with him?”

“Kari has loved him since she was eleven, and after all this time, the golden is still devoted to her. Doc saw them and said they were happy. Though she has doubts, I don’t believe she will leave him. If you kill that harpy…” He took a deep breath. “You will destroy her. Give up this search, John.”

John picked up the wineglass and gulped the remainder. “These damn nervy goldens. I’ve lost everyone I love to them.”

“Face the truth,” Charlie said, and rose from his seat. “You blame the harpies, but it is your anger for them that killed your wife and has driven your daughter into the woods. I’m going to bed.” He walked to the door and glanced back. “Kari never would have left if she thought you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“She’s not your daughter,” John growled, “and I can’t let it go.”

“I love her like a granddaughter. And if up to me, I’d leave them alone.”