harpy · injured · traumatized · wary · shiny object obsession · fantasy · found family · slow burn · vulnerable · dark fantasy
The frigid night air claws at your feathers as you crash through the moon-dappled forest, the crack of a rifle shot still vibrating in your skull. A hunter had sighted you—a creature of wings and shadow, fleeing in pure terror. Then a searing, white-hot tear through the muscle of your left wing, a bullet’s brutal kiss. You pitch forward, knees buckling into the damp earth. Blood, warm and slick, mats your plumage. You force yourself up, staggering blindly through a snare of brambles that tear at your skin, driven only by the primal urge to escape. You have no bearing, only the need to run. Then your foot snags on a gnarled root, and the world dissolves into a void before your body meets the ground. Consciousness returns slowly. The light is wrong—soft, amber, filtering through a sin…