She rolls across the floor with grunts of pain, eventually coming to a natural halt. Her knees and arms and everything in general hurts like hell, hands hopelessly trying to grip at anything all to yank herself up, only scratching her nails against the old wooden floor while grasping at literal straws of hay littered around the floor.

  Eventually she gives up and firmly pushes herself up by the floorboards instead to sit, fearfully staring across the room at her assailer. Still at the window, this was yet another harpy: smaller than the usual ones she’d seen, but still clearly a powerful adult- at least if accounting for the power of their throws. This one was less brightly plumed than the leader… Something felt familiar about the shape of the feathers, though. The size.

  Why did Maia recognize these? She could tell harpies apart by their faces, yes, but she had never paid too much attention to the shape of their feathers and crests besides the one time, so why…?

  “You. Prisoner… You are the prisoner.”

  And then it speaks. The voice is rather feminine, although she’s not sure how harpy gender actually works, she- she’ll just go with they for now. They speak. The nguage sounds a little foreign to their mouth, but they catch on quick, as if recalling instructions from long ago.

  “... Why are you out of the cage. You’re not due for any sort of process… You… Key? No, cannot be. How would you escape?”

  The harpy finally starts to approach, careful and somewhat leery, talons scratching the wooden floor threateningly. Maia still doesn’t have any weapons, so the best she could do was put her arms up. Instead she merely raises her hands, palms open and facing the harpy, showing that she’s unarmed. This causes no pause in their movements, but their eyes narrow.

  “I’m,... I want to make amends, that’s all-”

  Her voice is hoarse, but she feels herself stabilize as she affirms her goals to an actual harpy. LIke she was actually staking her cim. Maia manages to push herself up to stand next, back pressed against the wall. This makes the harpy chitter and jump back, fathered arms lifted defensively.

  “For the one I killed. And the ones Homer killed, my friend. But…The one I killed and buried in a most unfitting way. Even if this isn’t about that, even if this is unreted and none of you know, I… I have to apologize for it. Make amends. Some things are too important. To- I don’t know if you know her, the god of Death, but… Burying someone in a way that is unbefitting is- Its disrespectful. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  This would all feel very silly if her concerns and reality didn’t connect at all. But she can’t feel embarrassed. Even if their capture and the burial aren’t linked, she *has* to. For her peace of mind.

  There’s a guttural bird like ctter coming from the harpy’s throat for a second, arms shaking a little to make the feathers ruffle. Maia assumes this might be a sign of deeper thought or pause, since it doesn’t seem like the harpy’s about to lunge at her. Eventually the ruffled, feathered arms are dropped and the harpy leans against the wall on their side.

  Are they trying to calm her down?

  “Gathered most of the bodies. All but one… Were wondering where Aytalh was. What happened to her.” Sharp, raptor like eyes pierce right against Maia. “Buried. Away from mother sky, deep within father earth’s embrace… This isn’t right.” Yet they don’t sound angry. More disappointed, like lecturing a child on a failed exam result- or the kind of tone you’d be taking when said child asked a very stupid, but ultimately harmless question.

  “The proper way is to burn the body and to let mother sky receive the spirit while father earth is given the body in the form of ashes… Now you’ve sealed even her spirit within the earth. It will take her a long time to reach the sky now. Many years.”

  Maia blinked rapidly. That wasn’t right though. Death received the life force of whoever died no matter where they died, and then it was passed onto the stream from where Life recreated it to something new… So the harpies did not worship the same gods as she. Or if they did, their understanding was different enough to feel alien.

  But this wasn’t the time to have a theological debate. The fact that the harpy knew her nguage was what surprised her in retrospect. They seemed proficient enough, outside of the occasional pause to recall some words.

  “All the harpies we’d met so far didn’t…”

  Another clicking sound.

  “Speak with you? Our nguage and yours is. Different. But we learn… Anyway. Some of us. Most of us. The most detached choose not to. Consider it impure. And unworthy of us. But enough learn… In case we ever need to talk. We rarely do. Why talk when in combat? When fighting those coming up the holy mountain?”

  So some of them choose to learn… Their slow way of speaking was probably just due to ck of speaking rather than any tangible ck of skill. How did they learn? Did they have books? Did humans live up here, able to teach them? No, probably the former. They must’ve had books.

  Gaaah! This is not the time to get curious about cultural differences!

  “You all know that we killed them. Aytalh. I buried Aytalh. Is this about that? Is that why you captured and entrapped us?”

  The harpy seems more comfortable now, somewhat certain that Maia isn’t about to pounce on them, so they visibly rex. Maia can now tell that they’d been making themself look rger than they were through the feather puffing and arm shaking- now that they’re perfectly calm and still, they’re about her height, maybe a little taller. Scrawny. A bit young looking. Maybe slightly younger than Maia herself.

  “You are not bandits. Bandits we… Scare off. And fight. You’re travelers. The big man is scary. But the seer, Umana, saw a great darkness. A great darkness within you. Said that you should be captured. Said that you were a danger to the mountain and the world. The sage has… influence. And you’d killed our number all the same. Hence the disproportionate action.”

  Using a whole abandoned house as a trap was a little disproportionate when there were only two of them, yeah, but okay. Maia’s expression becomes gloomier. Darkness. Probably the influence of Death. And could she bme some sage for deeming her a threat? She could will things to die unconsciously, nature around her shifted if she spent too long in one pce, and she’d communed directly with the god twice now. No wonder she stank of death to anyone with some magical aptitude.

  “Some did not agree. Found it wasteful. I find it wasteful. Umana is a wise sage, but too careful… Great strength often passes the mountain. He is scared.”

  Maia wrings her hands together and slowly shakes her head, a sad smile creeping onto her face. She’s embraced honesty before, she ought to keep going.

  “Your sage isn’t wrong. I do harbor something within me…” Something vile? Something evil? “A blessing. It’s harmful to others, and I’m traveling to try and do something about it. I swear, my companion and I didn’t pass through there with intent to harm you. The lives we’ve taken were only taken in self defense.” Was that why the harpies had attacked them in the first pce? But Homer said they did so anyway, out of territoriality. This was becoming more and more confusing. Just what was self defense and what was prompted by the sage?

  The harpy clicks again, tongue against the roof of their mouth. This revetion didn’t seem to scare them. In fact, now that she’d gotten to observe them during this discussion… She’d come to realize this harpy seemed to be as deadpan as could be. The only time they’d seemed rattled was when they thought there might be a fight.

  Their face was long, eyes a deep blue. Those feathers were so familiar, again, but she couldn’t pce them. Why did this constant sense of unease about the shape and color keep scratching at the back of her head like a dog whining to be let inside. Now’s not the time. That long face contained little emotion, but those eyes.

  … Hatred, anger? Or pity? Hard to tell.

  “Umana might be happy to hear. That her visions didn’t result in totally unnecessary death, then.” Click, click. “But why tell me. Confirm suspicions. You could have lied. I would’ve believed you. And I think the tribe would have too. Not many can see things like Umana does. You could have argued for release. Not sure if it’d have worked, but confirming that looks bad for you.”

  “One should always be honest when facing justice, right? Especially when you’ve actually done something wrong. Lies might save me and Homer… But the situation won’t be made right by them. So I want you to help me. Please. I don’t know how, but please help me make these things I’ve done right. For you and your people.”

  Maia ends up pressing her palms together in prayer and bowing her head. This lets her see her own shadow staring back up at her, as if asking for permission- but she’s sure they know what she’s going to do. She just shakes her head.

  No. No.

  “Not a lot of time for that. They’re out at a celebration feast… Successfully capturing you was a gamble. They are afraid of the rge man. Only a few, like the protector, could fight toe to toe with him. They’ve seen the corpses. Know what he can do to us. So they were scared he’d break from the trap and kill them all.”

  Homer? The sweet old man causing so much fear within the harpies was… Well. She knew he was a capable combatant, she’d seen and heard it, but she just couldn’t see him as a fear inducing war machine no matter what, no matter how much she knew of his lineage. But that showed her bias, and that made her understand bias. Everyone viewed the world differently. She from her forest hut, this harpy from their lofty mountain.

  “What’s your name?”

  The harpy blinks at Maia’s question. The sudden veer in topic seems to be distracting them. Another click, two clicks. She’s about to apologize for the poor interjection before they speak up again.

  “Aymanah. I am Aytalh’s sister.”

  Oh. … Oh. Alright. That expins some things. Maia’s expression droops so hard it feels like her face is going to actually fall off and spt on the floor to sadly stare up at her. She doesn’t even have to look; she can tell her shadow twitches a little, as if shifting to be ready to pounce. Now there’s a reason to be defensive again. At least in their mind.

  “I am-”Sorry. She is very sorry. But she knows dropping on her knees to profusely apologize isn’t going to be fixing anything. Aymanah doesn’t seem like they want apologies either. “... I’ll fix things. Just tell me how.”

  That’s the best that Maia could do right now. Fix things.

  Click, click, click. “I can take you to see Umana. If you win the sage over, you might be able to win your freedom. I cannot promise anything for your rge friend.”

  Maia had only killed Aytalh after all. If she could prove and expin this and earn forgiveness, she could leave. Homer would need rescue too though… If he escaped like he’d pnned to, the harpies will likely just chase after them again, ruining the whole point of talking their way out of this. But it was a start.

  “Umana isn’t at the celebration?”

  Aymanah shakes their head.

  “Umana is vexed by the visions. Visions of you. She’s trying to figure out just what the darkness within you means. I can take you to her by the pnkways up above. Her house is not very far from mine. If you wish to take the chance to talk to the one who most wants you imprisoned.”

  She could still escape. She felt like Aymanah would let her go if she asked. Run down the mountain, wait for Homer and escape.

  But that wouldn’t be right. Maia’s breath is shaky, her hands grip at nothing and then release, grip, release, and she feels her shadow jostle again before it returns to normal, as if even the god embedded within it understands her resolve and how it’s been steeled and tempered.

  “I’ll talk to the sage.”Death is watching.