Flight of the Golden Harpy (21 page)

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They traveled upward and as Kari climbed, she dwelled on Shail’s words. He was simplistic yet an intellectual. She believed he ruled the harpies because of his courage, but slowly she saw the wisdom in her young mate.

Scaling the pinnacle crest, they descended on the northern side. Again the weather was hostile and cold. Kari had slept for only three hours in two days, and the weariness was taking its toll. Concerned for Shail’s welfare, she fought the fatigue and staggered ahead. Stepping on the moist rocks, she slipped and fell to her knees. Shail was beside her in an instant.

“No more,” he growled. “You shall rest.”

“It’s too dangerous here,” she shouted over the howling wind. Her body and her mind were exhausted, making the telepathy impossible.

“The danger lies in traveling these cliffs when weak,” he relayed. “Stay here. You understand?” he mocked, using words she had once used on him. He leaned over and nuzzled her cheek. “I shall find a safe place for us.”

He leaped off the cliff as if his broken wing functioned, bounding from one rocky shelf to another until he was out of sight. Although he was grounded, his speed and grace outmatched any human. Kari sat on a smooth stone, clutching her arms, and waited for Shail. She shook her long hair over her arms, hoping to add warmth, but the relentless wind blew it up and away. She was not only cold and tired, but also hungry. The sticky root was her only food since leaving the bonding nest. She shivered and felt faint. She wanted to go on, but was relieved when Shail stopped. Her muscles ached from the rugged climb and though cold, her skin felt hot.

Within a half hour, he returned. “I found a small cave.”

Kari stood up, but swayed with dizziness. Shail caught her and lifted her into his arms. He placed his cheek against hers. “You are not well. I should have sensed this.”

“You’re not at fault,” she said. “It’s my father’s. He chases us.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Shail carried her down the mountain. “Didn’t our first encounter begin like this?” She weakly smiled.

“Yes, but you were smaller and lighter back then.”

Kari could have sworn she saw his slight smile.

Shail held his precious bundle and leaped down the crest with a speed close to flight. He reached the large formation of boulders jetting out from the mountainside. Bending down, he entered the narrow crevice, barely a cave. Meager stream water trickled down the rocks on one side. He laid Kari down on the stone floor. “I shall find bedding,” he relayed and swiftly disappeared.

Kari huddled and shivered on the cold stone. She shut her eyes and listened to the whistling night wind blasting the entrance and was grateful to be out of it. She woke to Shail pushing the tangle of moss over and under her. He stroked her forehead, and she detected his anxiety.

“I’ll be all right,” she whispered.

He shuddered and left the cave. More comfortable, she fell asleep.

She opened her eyes when Shail lifted her head off the bedding. “Eat this,” he relayed. “It shall fight the sickness.”

She ate a few pieces he placed in her mouth and she recognized the flavor. It came from a bright purple fruit that grew on the forest floor. “This doesn’t grow in the mountains. You traveled too far.”

“Eat, then rest,” he relayed. After she ate her fill, he crawled next to her, wrapping his arms, legs, and wing around her shaky body.

“Did you eat, Shail?” she asked.

“Do not worry about me. Sleep.”

She knew he hadn’t. On the comfortable moss, with his body warmth and the food, she couldn’t stay awake and quickly dozed.

Shail nervously watched her, refraining from sleep and food. If he ate the meager fruit, he’d have to remove his warm wing from her to fetch more. He preferred hunger than have her shiver with cold. Worry of Turner and her illness kept him on guard.

At dawn Shail heard the faint sound of the searching hovercraft. He fretted, wondering if the heat device could see through thick rock. The sound grew louder with the hover’s approach. He nervously nuzzled his sleeping female and waited. The hover flew past the cave entrance and descended into the valley. He closed his eyes and loosened his hold on Kari, knowing their heat was unseen. She never stirred.

Although it had been three days and nights since he slept, he was determined to stay alert, listening and smelling the wind for danger. In the afternoon, billowing clouds rolled in, covering the mountain in a dense fog and relieved Shail’s anxiety. Turner would be foolish to fly in such weather.

Shail rose briefly and filled his mouth with water from the tiny trickle, but did not swallow. He leaned down, kissing Kari. “Drink,” he relayed, releasing the water between her lips. She swallowed, but remained semiconscious.

He stood to gather more, when she called out, “Shail! Don’t leave me.”

He dropped beside her and caressed her forehead, his eyes welling up with tears. “No, my love, I would never leave you,” he relayed. She was delirious with raging fever, her breathing rasping and uneven. She was growing worse. He gave her more water, forced the purple fruit between her lips, and then coiled around her. Never had he felt so helpless, so worried. With the silence of one heartbeat, his whole world could slip away.

The second night in the cave, Shail became frantic, fearing her death. He raced through the trees and gathered sticks and moss. He piled them in front of the cave. With the spark of two stones, he lit the dried moss, and created a small bonfire. He stared out across the dark landscape, hoping Turner would see his fire, but the black and vacant mountains held no hover lights. He lowered his head and went back to Kari. For the first time, he wanted a man to find him and was willing to sacrifice his life to save hers. Wrapping his frame around her, he closed his eyes and waited for the hunter.

In the middle of the night Shail woke. The limits of a living, breathing creature had forced sleep. He nuzzled Kari’s neck and felt her warm sweat and cool skin. Her fever had broken, and she slept quietly without a shiver. He glanced out the cave and saw the smoldering ashes. Turner had not come. He shut his eyes again and drifted into deep sleep, allowing his drained body to recover.

In the morning Shail saw that the mountain hid under a dense mist. He stretched and Kari stirred. “I go for more food,” he told her.

“But it’s daylight, and there are no trees. My father may see you.”

“I believe he has gone, and with the mist, I go unseen.” He rose and stepped out of the cave. He sniffed the air and quickly kicked the charred wood off the cliff, hiding the evidence of his fire signal. Kari would be furious, knowing what he had done. He listened below to the birds’ melody, absent of alarm squawks. With that reassurance, he leaped down the boulders until he reached the cover of trees.

He walked through the forest and came to a fruit-bearing tree with a stout vine. He climbed up and dropped the fruit to the ground. Using his sash as a makeshift bag, he gathered the fruit and headed back up the mountain. He noticed a ground vine with tiny pink flowers and dug to the roots, tossing the sticky food also in the sash.

Shail reached the end of the tree line and skittishly looked, listened and sniffed like wary deer before scampering across the barren ground. He entered the cave and saw Kari drinking water from the small flow between the rocks.

She smiled at his nude body. “I love your seductive dress for grocery shopping.”

Shail spilled the food on the cave floor and retied his sash around his hips. “You feel better. The color returns along with your humor.” They sat on the moss and ate heartily.

“So, we leave tonight?” Kari asked. “I feel great.”

“No, we wait. You were very ill. The cave is safe.”

“Since we have the time, maybe we can finish the bonding,” she said, leaning over and kissing him, while her hand stroked his penis under the sash. “Expect sex when you enter a cave nude.”

Shail immediately was breathless. “Kari,” he tried to object, but she shoved him back, massaging him. He gave in and reclined. Taking the male’s role, she straddled him and nipped his neck. Once penetrated, she rocked him back and forth until he shivered with excitement. This was an uncommon breeding position for harpies, but Shail didn’t complain. His gutsy little mate was also uncommon for a female harpy. She finished with him and slid off, returning to eating the fruit.

“Two nights of sleep and rest…” He panted and shook his head. “You recover fast.”

Kari took a bite of fruit and raised one eyebrow. He rolled over and slept.

Stuck in the cave, Kari was bored, and she felt good. She let Shail sleep for a few hours, but it was hard to keep her hands off him. He’s just so darn pretty, she thought, staring at his long lashes, long muscled frame, and long hair. He had explained to her that male harpies would discharge their seed only when breeding with a female, and she decided to put the claim to a test. She fondled him awake and worked him into a frenzied state, but teased him by pushing him away when he attempted to mount her. He puffed, sweated, squirmed, and fought his urge to eject his sperm. He stared at her, clearly confused.

Agitated, he finally hissed, pushed her on the moss, and had his way with her. He hastily pumped and climaxed. He collapsed on the moss and breathed hard. “Did you enjoy tormenting me?”

“I did.” She grinned. “I want to learn everything about you, especially your sex capability.”

He nodded and heaved a sigh. “My life, I fear, shall never grow dull with you.”

Since Kari had apparently recovered from her bout with illness, she encouraged Shail to bond. Only a male harpy gasping his last breath would refuse a willing partner, and Shail mated with her through the day and night.

The following morning Shail slept with his limbs stretched out across the nest, too wiped out to curl up. Kari tenderly nipped his neck and caressed his exposed body, persuading him to rise. He lifted his head, his gaze dispirited. “Female, you have taken all my strength and made me weak.”

“Maybe for a change I like you weak.”

He sat up. “I believe you like the effort that causes my weakness.”

She smiled. “That sarcasm sounds a little bit like humor.”

“I learn many things from you, not all good,” he relayed, standing. He walked to the cave opening and stared. “My flock worries for me. It is time we move on.”

“Where are we going, anyway?” Kari rose and came alongside him.

He pointed to a huge black mountain in the distance. “There. It is the sacred mountain of our people. When we are safely within, we shall bond until you want me no more.”

She flipped her hair back and walked to the stream. “More ironic humor?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “I fail to see.”

“The day will never come when I don’t want you.” She leaned over and sipped the water.

“I do see the humor, since you lack to tire of me. I shall be the weakest of all males and happy to be so.”

Shail cautiously stepped from the cave, sniffing the wind and listening, but all appeared calm and secure. He glanced back inside. “Though light has come and the way lacks cover, the shelter of trees is near. Do you feel well for travel?”

“I feel good. Your bonding cured me.”

“The purple fruit made you well, not my seed.”

“I know. I was just teasing you.”

“Untrue words, more humor,” he drearily said. “I fear I must grow used to the human fun.”

“It won’t hurt you.” Kari walked over and passionately kissed him while rubbing him hard.

Shail became breathless, sliding his hands over her delicate, curvy body and small full breasts, while her titillating hands coaxed his sex organ to perform and give up the remaining seed. “Kari, we must go.” He gently pushed her away and gained composure. “If not needed, I would mount you until this cave overflowed with our fledglings.”

“All right,” she sighed. She slipped into her clothes and tossed his sash to him, it landing on his head. She grabbed the cloth bag and headed for the cave door. “Let’s go. I’ll be glad to get to your sacred mountain.”

Shail tied the sash and grumbled. “I am glad I have only one mate. A second would kill me.”

“Good one, Shail, good one,” she said, and they left the cave.

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Shail took her hand and they swiftly descended the windswept rock. Arriving under the trees, they slowed their pace. Shail’s playful and teasing banter vanished, and he became serious and alert, assuming the role of a hunted animal. Several yards ahead of Kari, he quietly tiptoed through the brush, smelled the air, and constantly shifted his eyes in search of movement and danger. He had never been confined to foot travel, making him more cautious, and since pairing with Kari, he had changed. He was no longer a roaming single male who could afford recklessness, but had become a husband and possible father. Her life depended on his instincts and wit.

His broken wing also lay heavy on his mind. If danger came, he lost the option of grabbing his mate and flying away. Now his only choice was to outrun, hide, or fight the threat.

Breaking the harpy caution of traveling at night, Shail and Kari journeyed throughout the day to make up for lost time. They descended into a valley abundant with food. Shail stopped at a stream and knelt to drink. Kari came lumbering out of the trees and plopped down beside him. He leaned over, putting his nose against her cheek. He immediately sensed her raised temperature and weariness. He jerked back. “Your illness returns. This is my fault. I should have fought my urge to bond. I should have made you rest.”

“Take it easy, Shail,” she relayed. “I’m just a little tired and hot. I’m not sick.”

He bounded to his feet and scanned the tree canopy for the lavender fruit that fought illness. “Remain here and sleep. I shall seek the purple food. When I return, I shall decide if we stay or go.” He dashed into the trees and was gone.

Kari did feel warm, and was eager to bathe. She took off her heavy clothes and stepped into the stream, splashing water on her face and body. The cool water revived her, and she was determined to move on regardless of Shail’s decision.

Behind her, she heard the snap of twigs and froze, knowing it wasn’t Shail. As a wild harpy, he never made careless sounds when moving through the jungle. She glanced around, expecting to stare down a large reptile, but the threat was worse. A brawny middle-aged man stood in the ferns, and grinned, holding his laser rifle. Terrified, she watched him and slowly backed out of the stream, hoping he wouldn’t pursue her. He took a step toward her, and she hissed.