Day 8
Everything is even worse than I thought.
When I walked up to the mountains surrounding the Pillar, I expected to run into some sort of harpy scout or outpost, but it was all so quiet. From everything I’d heard, Harpy roosts were loud, social places—not this suffocating stillness.
I finally found them when I nearly fell into their cavern. The guards nearly eviscerated me before they realized I wasn’t a dragon. Then they apologized, and explained why they were so twitchy.
“We haven’t heard from almost any other flock in the last month,” one guard said, her voice muffled a little under her mask but still sounding tense and sad. “Then just two days ago a dragon clan attacked. We lost over half our number in less than an hour.”
“Was it here?” I asked.
“Yes. We have scouts looking for another roost, but we haven’t found anywhere yet. And we have wounded to look after. We’re stuck.”
After telling me that, the guards returned to their watch, resolute from what I could tell under their masks.
I picked my way further into the cave (it was clearly modified with flying harpies in mind), slowly hearing the sounds of clipped Harpy speech. The walls, blackened by dragon-fire, were decorated with intricate murals.
Taking up one side of the cave was a huge mural of the Pillar Unsundered. I guess they haven’t had the time or effort to update it—it’s only been twenty years, after all. The other side of the cave was more damaged—there were huge claw-marks, each as far apart as I was tall, gouged in the stone—but from what I could tell it was battle scenes of Harpy warriors of old. (Ew, some of them were plucking Longnecks right off the ground. I thought it had been generations since our species had clashed, but the mural was still bright where it wasn’t burnt.)
In the inner cavern I could see the results of the dragons’ attack. It looked like the area had been hastily converted from a bustling roost to half-sleeping space, half-Mending room. I tried to stay out of the way and one of the Harpies pointed me towards a pink-tinted harpy directing the movement of supplies near the Mending room.
I introduced myself and she did the same. “Talona, wingsecond of Three Feathers, although come morning I may be wingleader.” Her sigh was resigned, but then she seemed to pick herself back up. “I’m afraid we’re in no shape to help you, as much as I’d like to. The dragons have killed so many—not just here, but all over Sornieth. We just don’t have enough warriors to fight them effectively.”
“I still need to bring help to my herd,” I said. “Is there no one else who might help?”
“There are Dunhoof in the shadowed forests southeast of here,” she said. “I don’t know if they could help, though.”
“I’ll ask them, and I’ll ask them to help Three Feathers,” I said.
That brought a smile to Talona’s face. “Thank you. I really can’t spare the wingpower, or else I’d send a scout with you. You’re welcome to stay the night—I don’t know if our food will be to your liking—but we do have space, and we fought hard enough that the dragons should not return very soon.”
And that is how I’m spending tonight inside a cave filled with Harpies. The wing rustling sounds like grass in the wind, so I’m already halfway asleep, but then a hurt Harpy cries out and I’m wide awake again. Tomorrow, as long as it’s safe, I’ll head off to the dark forest that Talona mentioned.
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