My stomach plummeted and a feeling of foreboding stole over me. “Well, where is it?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
“Not here,” the harpy answered again. “But what you seek and what you need to seek might be two different things,” the bird said cryptically.
Another thing I loved about magical beings – vagueness. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I said and waited for it to elaborate.
“Enter the nest and find what you don’t know you’re seeking. But beware I cannot hold off Eris’ compulsion for too much longer. I will be forced to contact her soon.”
I hoped soon was more like an hour or two, but knew I couldn’t be that lucky.
I decided to push my luck in another way. “Why aren’t you allowed to eat me? I asked. I figured the answer would be something along the lines of my powers were needed to take over the world or something equally fabulous. Instead, the harpy raised the ick factor to the extreme.
“Don’t despair, Aphrodite. Eris claims the right to crunch your bones. I’ve no doubt you’d taste deliciously of the brine and sea.”
Eww. I raised my hand in farewell to the harpy, who only tilted its head to the other side and continued to stare at me. I made sure I was out of hearing distance before I muttered, “And I bet you’d taste like chicken, you creepy bastard.”
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Sheryl has had a book in her hands pretty much from the time she could hold things with her hands. Her love of reading turned into a curious exploration to see whether or not she could write her own. Beginning with random, terrible poetry and a slightly popular reimagining of Beowulf's Grendel in her high school English class, Sheryl spent way too much time in the library, killing any chance of her becoming a cheerleader or anything even remotely cool.