Mind like a Teenage Boy

Is it just me or do all forty-ish women start to feel like naughty little teenage boys in their heads?  Just wondering.  Yesterday at lunch my waiter was this hirsute young man, probably mid-late twenties, with long hair that he wore wrapped up in a knot on his head.  And as I looked at him I started thinking about what he would look like with his hair loose, and then the next thing you know my crazy teenage-boy-brain was thinking other much naughtier thoughts about what this waiter and I could be doing right there, against the restaurant wall, in front of everyone - and I had to blush.  What is it?!  I have a happy marriage, and would never really do anything like that, but the ideas - these visions of debauchery - they fill my head now all the time.  I suppose it is good that my thoughts were not all like this when I was young and single and free - I'd have got myself into even more trouble than I actually did!   Perhaps that is why they don't hit the female brain until the 40s - because by then our practicality is more hard-wired into us and we can have these fleeting thoughts without being too tempted to act them out every chance we get.

Bubbling Stories That Need a Way Out

So I've got these story ideas, unfinished but fun, and I thought it might be cool to throw some of them out into the e-universe and see what happens.  Maybe no one will read them.  Maybe they will spark some interesting ideas.  At the very least, I hope that posting them keeps me inspired to continue with them, so that they aren't left to just linger half-started, bogging down my brain.

Here is the beginning of one called Harpy:

Night slowly crept across the sky, leaving bruise-colored clouds hovering at the horizon like fluffy pets that had been kicked into the corner.  It was still hot, but the lack of direct sunlight prompted scuttling creatures out of their hiding spots to stretch and explore the landscape after the long day.  From the hillside, soaring up over the saguaro, stretched the wide wingspan of a great bird.  But she was more than just a bird, and her cry was something more like language than mere animal noise.

The harpy surveyed her domain, soaring, her powerful shoulders pumping wings up and back.  Her vision was excellent – she could spot the tiny reptiles and arachnids as the scurried around the desert floor below.  But they were of little interest to her this evening.  She had bigger fish to fry.

Across the Valley, houses grew like mushrooms, forever encroaching nearer to her habitat.  She’d managed to keep her shelter undetected for nearly eighty years, but long march of change around her had developed to the point that she could no longer just ignore it.  She must act, and act now, or her home would be forever lost.

A new development of the giant tan boxes these humans loved to call home was under construction too near her cave, and the workers had packed up and left the larger equipment locked but unattended.  She soared up, great muscles pumping her wings, lifting herself higher and higher until the air grew thin and she was breathing hard.  Then she dove, a near perfect vertical descent, directly at the great earth-moving vehicle that was destroying her peace.  Her speed increased as the metal beast grew larger in her vision, until at last she pulled her great talons up and drove them with all the angry force she could muster into the screeching steel of the hood panel.  Her talons were sharper than any blade, and combined with the incredible force of her dive, she was able to slice into it as if it were soft-tanned leather.  She ripped in, and then pulled up again, tearing the protective covering from the beast’s engine and flinging it into the nearest half-built structure.  Then she ripped into the engine itself, making short work of the smaller parts, the wires, the rubber bands that kept it operational.  When she had burned through some of her rage, she paused, breathing heavily and surveyed the area.  There were other smaller trucks around, which must also be dispatched.  She flew silently to the place where she’d tossed the hood, collected it in her claws, and took off, up again though not as high this time.  It was exhausting hauling this great piece of industry up into the air, but she was driven by her desperation.  When she’d gained what she deemed to be sufficient height above the first pickup, she released the hood and let it fall with a thundering noise onto the vehicle, crushing it thoroughly.  This she then repeated, until everything at the site was demolished.  Exhausted, she sought the nearest river for a cool drink, and then she willed her tired body back into the air and to her cave in the hills.  She could feel the sun’s approach, even though sunrise was still not showing it’s bright face in the sky.  She couldn’t afford to be seen, and she was too tired now for hunting.  Her hunger would have to wait until next nightfall.

The harpy dreamed of the ocean, of hatching on board the great ship in the depths of the cargo bay.  Her ancient mother had hidden there, warming her, until she could come out into this world.  Once she was free of her stone-hard shell, her mother had fed her from her breasts briefly, then showed her how to catch one of the many rats that infested the great boat.  Once she’d instilled this miniscule piece of survival knowledge to her daughter, she had died.  She’d held on just long enough to see her line carried on, and then had let go.  She called her daughter, Little One, and that was the only name she’d ever known.

In the dream, the harpy was free to roam the ship, observing the odd creatures that ran about and kept things operational.  In reality she had kept herself hidden; that was so instinctual that her mother didn’t even have to tell her; but she was perpetually curious about the world around her.  In dreams like this, she would explore and even engage the humans in conversations.  When she awoke, though, she could never recall the specific conversations, just the glorious emotions they engendered and her overall sense of freedom.  She longed to know if it would be like that in reality, but her instinct was too strong to test it out.

When she awoke, the sun was still several hours from setting.  Her muscles ached from the previous night’s activity.  She stretched, letting out a moan as her wings released some of their tension.  She peered out of her cave, squinting in the brutally bright light.  In the corner of her vision, sudden a movement – and then SNAP, she caught the lizard in her mouth and tore off its head, crunching greedily.  She was so hungry – this tiny animal wouldn’t satisfy her completely, but it was awfully nice of an appetizer to just waltz up to her front door like that.  She grinned, and held the rest of the animal with one claw as she ripped into it again with her razor-edged white teeth.  As soon as darkness fell, she would go out and hunt for something bigger, a coyote if she could catch it.

The harpy hadn’t really a clear sense of her own appearance, though she had occasionally seen her reflection in the still waters of a pond or more recently in the sides of a shiny-metal building she flew by one evening.  But that was at night, and the moonlight was too dim to see her features very well.  She knew her wings and body well, of course.  Strong female torso, skin the same dark green as her wings, bright yellow feet with great shining black claws that she honed to incredible sharpness on the basalt rocks of her cave.  It was her face that was more mysterious.  She could see that her skin was darker green at the base of her belly, and that it faded to a lighter green as it came up to her breasts, making her near-black colored nipples stand out dramatically.  She assumed therefore that her skin on her face was a paler shade too.  She could see her hair, it hung long around her in great wavy tangles, and it was as black as her claws.  When she’d seen her eyes reflected back at her they’d seemed to sparkle, though that could just have been a trick of the light.  They had been golden, like the desert-sand around her home.

Home.  She’d been spending more and more time thinking about it.  She dreaded having to find another place – she had been in the cave now for so many years that it was hard to even remember anything else.  She’d chosen it for its isolation and because it seemed unlikely that humans would be able to survive anywhere nearby.  But that was before they learned to bring water here, through endless pipes, draining away the rivers of other far-off places.  Once they had water, there was nothing to stop them, and the invasion grew and grew, until now she had so little comfort zone around her that she was in a heightened state of anxiety most every day.  She couldn’t go on like this; she had to begin to think of what to do next.  But she was too hungry to think now – hunt first, think later.  She scanned the valley below.  It wasn’t dark yet, but shadowy enough to risk a short flight around the cave itself she decided.  She was ravenous now, and impatient.  She spread her wings and beat them up and down, stirring up a great dusty whirl around her, and lifted herself into the air and down the side of her hill.

Grant patted a hand along the side of his horse’s neck and spoke softly to her.  She’d been skittish ever since they began the climb up the hillside.  He wondered to himself if she was sensing some hazard up ahead, and ran his eyes around the ground alert for rattlers.  The heat was intense, but he loved to get away like this too much to resist the lure of an after-work ride.  He scanned the view, which stretched from Cave Creek down into Phoenix and all the way over to Scottsdale, and marveled at how beautiful and otherworldly the desert could be.  The sky was immense.  He and his horse would have an excellent sunset view from up here.

The horse’s name was Dale, after Roy Roger’s wife, and she was as steady a mount as they come.  She was an Appaloosa, with dirty-white body and black spots peppering her hind end.  She felt the air spark with the presence of something that was not right, though she had no way of identifying the danger precisely.  She wished, as she often did, that she were able to do more to communicate her fears to her rider.  Humans were not the brightest at times, and while she appreciated the care and affection that Grant provided her, at times like this she questioned his wisdom.  But she was his, and she would remain constant for him, even if she felt down to the tip of her tail that they were making a mistake to climb this hill.  She braced herself for something dreadful, and made her way onward up the path.

The harpy spotted the coyote, dust-colored fur blending into the sand, just to the east of her hillside.  There were no homes nearby, and she felt confident that she would be able to nab it and get back to her cave unseen.  Driven by what was now an overwhelming desire to eat, she tracked his movements until she was certain she could predict his next turn, and then dove at him with brutal speed.  The coyote caught site of her shadow at the last second and turned, but she was still able to grab his flank with her claws and pull up from the dive.  His front end squirmed and wrestled with her, trying to break free.  He snapped at her with his sharp little teeth, but she was unfazed – she’d had worse bites than this.  She hauled him up towards her cave and landed hard with him beneath her, cracking his skull against the rocks as she did and knocking the animal unconscious.  She tore at his gut, reveling in the salty-savory meat of his heart and liver first, and then settling into the rest of the meal.  She began to feel more herself once she was about halfway through the feast.  By the time she had sucked the marrow from the bones, she was utterly calm and contented.  She decided now that the sun was finally setting to go to the creek that bubbled up from the rocks nearby and wash.  She could feel the blood drying on her face and it made her skin itch.

Walking around the rocks she knew so well, claws clicking quietly, she stopped dead in her tracks.  There, drinking from her own creek was a spotted horse.  And standing next to it, his back to her looking out over the valley was a man in a beige cowboy hat.

She pulled back a bit behind the scrub brush, and stared at the man.  He was tall and lean, she could see, and his hair was the color of pine bark.  He wore a denim shirt and jeans, with dark brown boots and gloves.  Then he turned toward his horse, who she noticed, was no longer drinking but standing stock-still and staring in her direction, clearly sensing her presence.  The man noticed this too, and scanned the area.  The harpy ducked down.  Then ever so slowly, she lifted her head to peek at his face.  His eyes were such a piercing blue that she could see them clearly even from this distance, as though the sky were shining through holes in his skull.  He had deep lines on either side of his mouth, but they didn’t mar his appearance.  Instead they made him look like someone who had spent a great deal of his life smiling.   And as the harpy thought of this, she felt her own cheeks lift into a grin.  It was bizarre – she felt something shift inside her – then she felt her insides actually lurch uncomfortably.  And all at once her whole body began to change.  The harpy’s claws cramped suddenly, arching out and stretching, and then they began to lengthen.  The previously tough and leathery skin of her feet softened like the guts of the coyote she'd just consumed.  Then the claws themselves pulled together into actual human feet and long legs connected them to her now womanly hips.  Most horrific of all, arms where her beautiful wings had been.  Her skin changed too, took on the same tan color as the rocks around her, and she lay there stunned on the dirt, touching herself to see that it was all truly real.  

Without realizing it, the harpy had let out a loud pained gasp, and the man heard it.  He began to walk in the direction of the sound, carefully, not sure what he would find.  What he saw sent him back several steps in shock.

What had only moments ago been the harpy, was now a nude human woman.  Her face, chest and feet were smeared with blood, and she was sitting in the dirt, legs outstretched in front of her, a look of shock on her face.  Her dark hair was long enough for her to sit on, and her eyes were a shocking amber color.  The man could see that she was frightened of him, and so he gently knelt down to appear less threatening, and extended to her his right hand.

“Are you all right?” Grant asked softly.

The cacophony of thoughts whizzing through the harpy’s mind in that moment kept her from forming enough coherent thought to try and respond.  Instead she just froze, eyes huge and body petrified with shock.  

When the man spoke again, she struggled with herself to pull it together.  Mother never told her how she was bred, but the harpy was quickly realizing that this man must have been some kind of a trigger for her body.  Perhaps the time had come for her to take a mate?  She had no idea precisely how to proceed – and so she struggled to recall how she had communicated with humans in her dreams.  Her mind cracked open a previously unused vault of memory.  She opened her mouth and pushed air through her vocal cords.  Her lips released a little cawing cry.

“Are you hurt, little one?” Grant asked as gently as he could.  He had kept his arm extended to this wild young woman, but had the sense that to touch her right now may not be the brightest idea.  Slowly he eased his arm back to his side and tried to think of what he should do next.

The moment he said “little one” the harpy gasped.  He spoke her name, at least the only one she had ever known, as naturally as if he’d read her memories in a book.  She decided this was a sign, and chose from amongst her myriad thoughts.  Struggling again with her voice the Harpy pushed out the words, “Please help.”

At once Grant was at her side, lifting her into his arms.  She stiffened when he touched her, but did not resist his help, and he carried her back to Dale, who was in a heck of a state, pawing at the dirt and shaking her mane at him.  He chided her to calm herself, and set the woman onto her feet a few yards from the horse.  He approached Dale alone, patting her neck and speaking in a gentle way to her, as he had just done with this strange woman behind him.  Then he reached for the blanket roll that he kept tied at the back of his saddle and undid the straps.  

Blanket in hand, he turned back to the woman who stood there naked and without shame watching his every move like a hawk.  She didn’t seem; well there was no other word for it, domesticated.  She was utterly wild, ferocious in her beauty.  Sharp angles made up her face, pointed peaks of her lips and strong cheekbones, but her eyes were the most dramatic of her features.  She had golden eyes like an eagle, surrounded by heavy dark lashes.  Grant had never seen anything like her.  

He extended the blanket roll to her and she took it, watching his face as she moved.  Then she backed up a step and looked at the blanket in her hand.  She looked back at him, clearly flummoxed as to what he expected her to do with it.  

“I thought you might want to wrap yourself in it,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

“Please help,” she said again, in a slightly gravelly voice.  She sounded as if she’d just woken up and hadn’t had her coffee yet.

Grant took another step to her with his hands outstretched, took the roll from her and shook the blanket out so that it formed a large square.  It was woven cotton, in a Navaho style pattern, but it was machine made; he’d bought it at Costco.  He wrapped it around her under her arms, and tried to tuck in the end without offending her with his intimate closeness.  She grasped the end from him and finished the action, and then looked up into his face.  She looked shocking, otherworldly, and more beautiful than any human being he had ever seen even with all that blood on her face.  He was struck by an urge that he stifled, for he did not want to be the kind of monster who would take advantage of someone in such a complete state of vulnerability as this.  Though, looking into her eyes there was something more fierce and less vulnerable there.  He’d probably be the one to get hurt if he tried anything like what had been passing through his imagination just then.  

With her nudity concealed, he took her hand and walked with her back toward Dale.  The horse was clearly not pleased, but she behaved herself and let him lift the woman up into the saddle.  Her eyes were huge and fearful and he had to show her how to grip Dale’s mane to hold on, but she allowed him to walk his horse with her on it, and together the three of them began the long walk down the hill.   

And just like that, the harpy left her home.  No longer harpy, but still completely herself.  She wondered how long she would remain in this human shell – her mother had not been human looking when she hatched, she’d been harpy.  But she supposed mother must have changed like this to secure her mate and breed to create her daughter.  She wondered, for the first time, what her human father must have been.  A sailor, perhaps?  Maybe that was why she’d been born aboard a ship.  Would she die once she’d hatched her own offspring, as her mother had done?  Where would she be able to nest undisturbed, now that her cave was no longer safe?  The questions swirled as she bumped uncomfortably on the great equine’s back.  She sighed, longing for the breezy freedom of her lovely, strong wings.

It was deeply dark by the time they made it to Grant’s home.  He lead Dale and the woman to the stable first, lifting her off of Dale’s back, then removing the saddle, pad and bridle.  Throwing a hunk of alfalfa and a generous scoop of oats into Dale’s feed bin, he tempted her into her stall.  She munched greedily, relieved to be free of her bizarre-smelling rider.  

Grant then turned back to the woman, and sighed.  He had no idea how to proceed, really, but it seemed clear that she had nowhere else to go.  He reached out his hand, and she looked at it, and then extended hers to meet him.  He guided her into the house, entering through the side door and turning on lights as he went.  They walked together to the kitchen, and Grant lead her to a bar stool at the island counter.  She perched herself onto it looking quickly with deep curiosity at everything around her.  Her movements were bird-like in their speed and intensity.  He shook his head, and went to the fridge to get a couple of cold water bottles for the two of them.  

He placed hers on the counter in front of her, and then cracked open the lid on his own bottle.  She looked at the bottle, then at him, observing his action as he twisted the plastic lid and removed it.  She brought her hands up and mimicked his process as closely as she could, but she didn’t hold on tight enough to the lid to crack the seal.  The look of confused frustration on her face was comical, and Grant couldn’t help but crack up at her.  She shot him a look that shut him up fast, and then she handed the bottle back to him.  He opened the lid and gave it to her again.  She sniffed at it, and then dipped her tongue into the mouth of the bottle, but it was too small an opening for her to get very far into it.  He realized that she was trying to drink as if from a stream or a bowl.  He took another long sip from his bottle, showing her how to hold it against her mouth and tip it up and in.  She copied this, and drank deeply, creating a little airtight seal that made the bottle collapse in on itself with a crunch.  Startled by the sound, she pulled back the bottle, dribbling the last of the water down the front of the blanket she still wore.  She looked up at him, sheepish, and as he smiled and struggled not to laugh again, she let loose a giggle, like a brook babbling over river stones.  Then they both laughed loud and hard, their laughter freeing them from the tension that had previously occupied the room.

“My name is Grant,” he said to her once the laughter finally ceased.  “Do you have a name?  I feel awkward not knowing what to call you.”

“You called the only name I’ve ever known when you spoke to me on the hill,” she said. “You called me Little One, and that was what my mother called me as well.”

“Little One.  Okay.  What were you doing up there all by yourself?”

“My cave was there.  I was startled by you and by your horse.  I didn’t know what to do.”  She felt flustered, as she didn’t know how much she should tell this man.

“You lived there?” Grant was incredulous.  How could a naked woman survive in the desert hills alone?

“Yes.  I’ve stayed hidden all my life, but the humans keep coming closer.  You were the closest to my home yet.”  The pace of her breathing increased a little as the memory of her recent transformation flashed through her mind.  “I was curious.  I wanted to see you, to get closer to you.  And so I shifted myself, and I let you see me, and now I am here with you.”

“You speak of humans as though you weren’t one yourself,” Grant said in a low voice.

“I don’t mean to alarm you,” she said softly.  “I don’t know the right words.  I have spoken aloud more this day than I have in my entire life.”

Grant stared at this strange and intriguing creature perched on his kitchen stool.  It was as though she’d just landed there from out of the sky.  And she was looking into his face with such a curious longing, he felt exposed under the intensity of her gaze.  

“Well, Little One, you are welcome to stay here,” Grant said, making the decision as he spoke the words aloud.  “We will have to get you some proper clothes, if you plan on going out in public, though.”  

“I don’t want to go into public,” she said firmly.  “I only wanted to know you better.  Grant, may I know you better?”

What she said and what she meant by it could have been different things, Grant thought cautiously.  But looking into her face, he felt certain that she’d just made him her version of a proposition.  And even though he’d thought about it himself earlier, he felt it would be wrong somehow to just take advantage of the situation like that.  He needed to sleep on this first.  His mind was a tangle of too many things right now.

“How about this?” Grant suggested.  “You get cleaned up and get some rest tonight.  Tomorrow is Saturday; I don’t have to go to work.  We can take a little more time to get to know each other after we’ve had both a good sleep.”  With that, he led her to the guest bathroom, scrounged for some extra shampoo and soap, and a clean towel.  He also dug up some boxer-briefs, shorts with a belt, and an old Gap t-shirt that his ex-girlfriend left in his closet.  He showed her how the shower worked, and did his best to explain the toilet, and then left her alone.  He pulled out the sofa bed in his home office and found some sheets in a closet and put them on.  He threw one of his own pillows on the guest bed, and a light blanket, and then went back past the guest bathroom door, which was not completely closed.  She was singing to herself, without words, just gibberish vowel sounds in a haunting tune.  He heard the shower water start to run, and then her giggles bubbled up through the door.  He smiled, went back to his own room and flopped on the bed.  

The ceiling stared blankly back at Grant as he lay there and let his mind roll over everything that had just happened.  It was too incredible, and being a practical man he had a hard time still believing it.  There were too many things about Little One that needed explaining for his mind to really accept that she could be real.  And yet there she was, in his bathroom, laughing and singing and splashing in the shower.  He was charmed by her innocence and terrified of her ferocity and baffled by her utter ignorance of things that he took for granted, like water bottles and toilets.  What had happened to her, and how was he going to explain her sudden presence in his life?  She seemed not to have any interest in getting to know the world outside, but he couldn’t very well go about life with this girl just hiding out in his house.  Should he call the authorities or something?  That seemed too cruel.  No, he’d just take some more time this weekend with her, get to know more of her story, and decide what to do as things developed.

At that moment he heard the shower shut off, and after a few more minutes Little One came out of the bathroom.  Seeing the light on, she walked to Grant’s room.  He smiled at her, and she returned the smile.  The t-shirt fit her well, but the shorts were his, and they threatened to slide off of her hips at any moment.  She had tied the belt into a clumsy knot around them, to try and keep them in place.    

“Let me show you to where you can sleep tonight,” Grant said, as he stood up from the bed and walked her back down the hallway.  He showed her the guest bed, and asked her if she needed anything else.  She looked at him for a long moment, and then said “No.”  As he closed the door behind her, he saw her touching the pillow gingerly, and wondered how she would sleep, surrounded by so much newness.  

The harpy felt deeply distrustful of the soft pillow and springy mattress.  She’d only ever slept on the ground before.  But then again, she hadn’t had this soft-skinned backside before – perhaps it would be better in this form to try and live more humanly?  She slowly lowered herself onto the sofa bed, until she was sitting down.  Then she lay down, placing her head on the too-soft pillow.  It was just so awkward.  She tried out the blanket, to see if that would help, but it was no good.  She was never going to be able to sleep this way.   She jumped down and curled up on the hardwood floor, feeling chilly but more connected to herself.  Having no wings to tuck her head under, she resorted to flinging the blanket around her shoulders, and ducking her head underneath her right arm.  Better.  Though her head still quivered with excitement and anticipation, her body was deeply tired.  She slept hard, dreaming frenetic visions of her transformation and her newly awakened human self.

When she awoke, the sun was already bright through the slits between the window blinds.  She lay there confirming that the previous night’s events had actually happened – she still appeared human, and was in the home of the man called Grant.  She wondered if Grant would be asleep still.  She was eager to see his face again, as her dreams had left her with an achy sense of longing.  She went to the door, and examined it.  She had seen Grant pull it closed, and so she tried to pull it open in the same way but without success.  Maybe it had to be pushed?  She tried that.  Nope.  She took hold of the handle and shook it hard, making a frantic noise in the back of her throat.  Finally her frustration overwhelmed her and she put her shoulder muscles into it and jerked the door handle so hard that she broke the wooden frame around the latch, leaving shards of wood sticking out and finding Grant, a shocked expression on his face, staring at her from the hallway.  “Sorry,” she said, meekly.

“Wow,” was all he could think to say.  His look told her that she had frightened him with her strength.  She ducked her head down, ashamed.  Grant took her chin in his hands to lift her face back up.  “Its no big deal.  I can fix the doorframe.  I’m sorry – It never occurred to me – I should have left the door ajar for you.”

She smiled a little, her face warmed under his touch.  She was amazed at how her body seemed to be taking over her mind ever since seeing this man.  Clearly nature had a plan for her, and in this human shell it was hard for her to think of anything but fulfilling it.

Grant too, was finding self-control slipping from his grasp.  As he stood there, marveling once more at her eyes, and her mysterious nature, he wanted to just take her right there on the floor.  It took every ounce of his strength to step back and breathe again.  

“I bet you’re hungry,” he finally said, after what seemed like ages staring into each other’s eyes.  “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast.”

In the bright white kitchen, Grant scrambled eggs and added chopped ham and cheese to the pan.  The toast popped and the coffee maker gurgled.  Little One sat on the same stool as the previous night, watching with deep fascination.  The smells were all so new, and while radically different from the diet she had been accustomed to, they were not unappealing.  She tried the egg mixture first, eating it right off the plate with her mouth.  It was surprisingly good, and as she started to really dive into it she caught sight of Grant’s open-mouthed expression.  She sat up, and saw him shake his head.  “Like this,” he said, and demonstrated the use of the fork.  It took several tries, but she eventually managed to get some egg into her mouth this way.  She stabbed the toast with the fork next, and lifted it to her mouth to take a bite.  Grant said then that it was all right for her to use her hands for toast, but she decided she preferred the eggs anyway.  The hot brown drink he called coffee did not appeal to her at all.  She drank another water instead, her technique getting better each time she sipped from the bottle.  

“So, how would you like to spend your day?” asked Grant as he washed up the dishes.  

“I would like to know you, Grant.” Little One said.  This time, to make herself clear, she approached him as she spoke, finally standing so close that their clothing touched.

“Please,” she said holding his eyes locked on hers.

It was too much.  He couldn’t stop his desire any more for her.  He turned and kissed her, grabbing her hair with his left hand while pulling her body against his with his right.  She responded, tearing at the buttons of his shirt and pulling it over his shoulders and flinging it onto the tile.  It took barely a single pull to release the belt she had tied at her hips, and the oversized shorts fell around her feet.  Grant dropped to his knees, kissing her lower belly, her hips, and finally running his tongue down between her legs, sending thrilling tremors reverberating through the harpy’s new form.  She tore her own shirt off and touched herself, brushing her fingers back and forth across her stiffening nipples, while he continued to explore her below.  He finally took her hips in his hands and pulled her to the floor in front of him, knees up on either side, eyes on his and wilder than any animal he’d ever seen cross his path.  He pulled his shorts and underwear off, his erection straining to free itself from the fabric.  The moment it was free, she was there, tasting his cock in her mouth, filled with desire she never knew existed before this moment.  He groaned, holding gently onto her hair, straining not to come too soon and lose this moment.  Then she pulled herself back up to his face, kissing him again and wrapping her legs around his hips.  He took hold of her hips and lowered her down onto him, and together they fell back, onto the tile, driving into one another as if their lives depended on it.  She made tremendous noises, like a bird of prey above the clouds, and Grant groaned and panted like a beast.  He wanted her more than anything and she was driven to him like no human man who had ever existed.  There was a desperate quality to their sex, as though it may be their only time, and so they did everything they could think of doing.  He rode her, she mounted him, he bent her over the countertop and took her from behind, and he lifted her up to the counter facing him and plunged into her standing up.  At last he could not hold back any more, and he came into her like an eruption.  They fell back to the floor, panting and grinning like idiots.  It was tremendous, and soon they both fell sound asleep there on the cold tile, arms and legs wrapped around each other. 

The harpy awoke before Grant did, and lay there with her head on his chest and her eyes wide open.  She had mated, which surely was her body’s goal, and she wondered what would happen next?  How long would she remain human-like?  Would she know when she had conceived?  She looked up into the face of the man who’d pulled her from harpy to human, and sighed.  He was divine, so handsome and peaceful in sleep.  She felt no diminishment of her passionate desire for him – on the contrary, this encounter they’d had only made her want him more.  It was as though she’d spent her whole life, more than a hundred of years, without ever truly seeing – and now here she was with eyes viewing the desert sunset for the first time.  She felt glorious.  She wanted this feeling to last for eternity.  

Then her stomach growled, and she realized how utterly breakfast had failed to satisfy her hunger.  She needed more, and she needed it quickly.  She stood up slowly, trying not to wake Grant, and went to the door that he had opened to get the food that morning.  Inside the door, it was cold, and she searched through the shelves of big cold box for something she could recognize.  She saw more eggs, and gingerly gathered them into the crook of one arm.  She ate them each, one at a time, shell and all.  They were oddly cold, but satisfying nonetheless.  Then she looked to see what else was there.  She saw the hunk of leftover ham and ate that next.  There were many odd containers, but as she couldn’t tell what was what she dared not try them.  There was another door next to the one she had open, and so she opened that too.  She saw what was clearly some kind of meat, but it was hard as a rock.  She picked up the frozen steak, and looked at it longingly.  It was then that she realized that Grant was no longer asleep.

“Hungry again?”  He asked with a grin.

“Very!” She said, putting the rock-steak back on the shelf and shutting both doors.  

“I’d offer to take you out to a restaurant,” Grant said, “but you seemed to shy away from the idea of leaving the house last night.”

“If you can help me, I will try,” She replied.  

“Well I think the first thing we’ll have to get you is some clothes that fit.  While I love that these shorts just fall off you, it might be better in public if they didn’t!”

Grant took a few minutes to go and feed Dale, and then they climbed into his F150 and drove to Desert Ridge mall.  Grant decided that Target made the most sense, as they could get a bit of everything for Little One there.  They found sneakers to replace the oversized flip-flops she was tripping along in, and several pairs of white socks to go with them.  The sales girl helped Little One with sizing, and together she gathered up panties and bras, shorts and shirts.  She also found a light cotton sundress in a dark green reminiscent of her former feathers, and bought that too, all with Grant’s small rectangle of plastic.  Everything was shocking and new, but she found pleasure in exploring this world with Grant at her side.  Once she was dressed comfortably, they walked over to the TGI Fridays across the parking lot.  It was uncomfortably loud, and with just a look Grant could see that Little One was horrified of the place.  They walked back outside and looked around for other options, finally settling on the drive-through at In-N-Out.  They parked in the lot and ate in the truck, which was good, as Little One wanted another burger as soon as she’d finished the first one.  They ordered the Double-Double for her second round, and that finally sated her.  Grant had never seen a woman eat so much, but clearly Little One had the metabolism to handle it.

“I have so many questions,” Grant finally began when they were back at the house.  He looked at her and thought he saw her back stiffen just a bit, but he forged on with his query.  “You seem in many ways more animal than human and I want to understand how that can happen in this modern time.  How did you come to live alone in the hills like that?  You were covered in blood, but you seem uninjured, so who’s  blood was it?  You spoke of your mother – what happened to her?  Why would she want you to live like that, away from the rest of society?  I just want to understand more.”

The harpy was cautious still, but at the same time, she wanted this man to know her.  Never before had she wanted so much to be known.  She had no rulebook from which to operate, only her instinct, which told her that as much as he asked of her, Grant really did not want to know what she was.  So she thought quickly, and told him as many truths as she could safely tell.  “My mother was only with me for a little while, and then she died when I was still very young.  I grew up alone, taking care of myself.  It seemed clear to me early on that I could be safer apart from humans and so that is how I lived.  I learned whatever I could, from any source I could find, and I just took care of myself.  I feel a great voice of nature inside me, and it has always been my guide, and as I’ve never relied on others I’ve grown quite strong.  I had just eaten when you found me, and that was why I was bloody.  I have skills, though it seems they are less apparent now that I have abandoned my cave.  There had never been a need for me to join into society before, until I saw you.  I saw you, Grant, and I was a changed woman.  I knew in my bones that I needed you, and so I do.” 

She looked up at him, and held his gaze, trusting that the truth she spoke would cleanse his mind of concerns.  His expression was unfathomable.  But then he leaned toward her and kissed her deeply, and she knew he felt it too, just as she did.  He was hers, and she was his, and that was all they needed to know in that moment.

This time as they undressed each other, they took more time to explore, to caress, and to learn each other’s bodies inch by inch.  They moved to Grant’s bed and stroked and kissed one another with more love than passion.  When Grant finally entered her again he did it slowly, taking time to really feel her and to watch her face react as she felt him filling her up.  Her muscles clenched onto him from inside, and rhythmically pumped him as he glided in and out.  The sensation was intense.  He licked one of his fingers and slid it down between their bodies, rolling it in a little circle on her as he continued to slowly thrust.  She groaned and screeched her hawk-call and came with such force that she nearly pushed him out of her, and in response he let go and came deep in her again.  They kissed and sighed and collapsed in a heap, breathing hard on the bed.  

They weren’t tired enough to sleep this time, and instead they lay together, hand in hand, talking softly.  It was funny, thought the harpy – no other creatures that she knew of required so much communication for mating to occur.  But the more time she spent with Grant, the more she found she wanted to know of him too.  She asked Grant about his life, and so he told her about his work as a landscaper, his knowledge of desert flora and fauna, his love of horses and the outdoors.  He talked about his childhood, his family, who mostly lived in Las Vegas except for one sister up in Seattle.  As he talked to her, the harpy sighed and traced circles in his chest hair, still marveling at her own featherless limbs.  He took her hand and kissed her fingertips, breaking her from the little trance she’d been in, and asked her to tell him more about herself.  She gulped and asked him what he wanted to know.

“Well, how about food?  You seem to have a really healthy appetite – how could you feed yourself, living up in the desert hills like that?” Grant asked.

The harpy knew she was in trouble with this one.  How could she explain her skills as a hunter without telling him what she was?  With a deep breath, she gave it her best shot.

“I’m quite fast, and I can be very patient.  I learned to wait for prey, and to be a step ahead of its movements in order to catch it.  There is a pattern to everything in nature, you see, and once you know the pattern, you can guess what is coming next and be there when it does.”

“Wow.  So what animals would you eat?” Grant asked in fascination.

“Whatever animals I could catch,” she laughed.  “If I could, I’d always try for the big ones, though.  The larger the animal, the more time I could relax in between meals.”

“So, like what?  Lizards, and rabbits and stuff?” he asked.

“Sure,” she replied, now relaxing into the verbal volleying, “but if I could get a coyote or mountain goat, that was always the best.”

Grant’s expression changed, and he clearly was shocked by what she’d said.  She’d gone too far into truth.  How could he possibly believe that she was capable of killing a coyote with her bare hands?  And so she suddenly laughed, and he looked at her for another moment before he laughed too, reassuring himself that she must have been kidding around.  Internally she cursed herself for being so stupid.  She would have to be more careful, or she would surely scare him away.

When they finally grew tired again as night fell, Grant asked her to stay with him in his room to sleep.  At first she agreed, because she didn’t want to be apart from him, but afterward she wondered if it had been smart to say yes.  How could she fall asleep in this ridiculous softness of Grant’s bed?  It was even squishier than the guest bed had been!  But they showered together and lay down together and held each other close.  She waited there, wide awake next to him, until his breathing became deep and regular, then she slipped out onto the floor and curled up as she had the night previous.  She slept so deeply that even dreams did not seep in.  And when she woke up, Grant was leaning his head over the bedside, looking at her with the question written all over his face.

“Why do you sleep like that?” he asked.  “You look like a bird, tucked under its wing.”

“I’m just not used to sleeping any other way,” the harpy said, her morning voice still croaky.  

“You have eyes like a bird too,” Grant said softly.  “And your movements – you’re like an eagle, Little One, or a hawk the way you snap your head around to look at things.”

She just shrugged, unsure how to respond to that.  This was not getting any easier.  She hoped that he would not put too many clues together and decide she was too monstrous to be his mate.

Grant asked her if she would like to go to her cave today.  They could ride up the hill together on Dale, and he would be able to really see where she had lived.  The harpy shook her head vehemently and argued that she’d only just come from there and would much rather see more of the newness of Grant’s world.  He was happy about this, in spite of her disagreement, and hoped that as she got more relaxed out in public she might decide it was okay to meet his associates and friends.  He needed to know her more though.  He just didn’t know how to approach the task of introducing his new wild-woman to the guys at the office.

He took her to the botanical garden, one of his favorite places.  He named all the plants for her that she knew instinctively.  They talked more about his childhood, growing up in Vegas, then leaving home as soon as he was out of high school and moving to Phoenix to express his independence.  She spoke of her love of this dry, forbidding place, and how she had selected it from other places she’d traveled past precisely so as to avoid the intrusion of others.  He held her hand, and thanked her for letting him be the one to intrude, after all these years.  She smiled and pulled his hand to her mouth to kiss it.  He asked about her favorite things, and she told him that she loved the rise of the heat in the desert air, and the wide-open sky that seemed endless.  She told him how much she enjoyed the winter moon, all fat and golden in the twilight, and the taste of a fresh-caught animal, still hot and full of life.  The last one made Grant a little queasy, but he did his best to hide it.  They rode back home in the truck, he made sandwiches for lunch, and they made love again, this time on the sofa and living room floor.  

As Sunday came to an end, Grant realized that he’d have to work the next day, and it sent him into a funk.  The weekend had been like a dream, and he didn’t want any of it to end.  He thought about calling in sick, but hesitated, deciding that they’d both have to face reality sometime.  It may as well be tomorrow.

“I’ve got to leave you during the day tomorrow to work,” Grant finally told Little One.  “Will you be all right here alone?”

“I will miss you,” she replied, “What can I do here by myself?”

“Well, there’s always the TV.  I can show you how to work the remote.  You’ll learn all kinds of dreadful things from it, but at least it will keep you company.”

Morning came too soon, and the harpy had to kiss her mate goodbye.  Then she sat, feeling lonely and awkward, in the now silent and empty house.  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to look at TV; what she really wished was that she could speak with another harpy.  She had no idea what her future held now, and she would have given anything to be able to consult someone with more knowledge about these things.

Mating with Grant was absolutely the best thing she had ever experienced.  After only a few days together she had developed tremendous physical intimacy with him, something she had never thought she would need in her life.  Was this the same for all harpies, or had she picked an especially good mate?  How would she change when she conceived?  Would she carry her offspring’s egg in this human belly?  It was difficult to imagine something so bizarre, but after all the changes she had experienced in the past few days she could see that anything was possible.  

Above all, she feared losing Grant.  But it was inevitable, wasn’t it?  How could he possibly accept her for what she actually was?  He would run in terror at the sight of her in her true form.  If only she knew how to stay like this, and not change back.  She missed flying, but she would miss Grant more.  Sadly, she had no idea how to handle any of this, because her self-knowledge was so limited.  Was this why her mother had died after hatching her?  Was it just too heartbreaking to have to abandon her mate?

The harpy decided to bathe rather than shower, this time filling the tub with cool water and plugging it the way Grant had shown her.  She slid into it, relishing the all-over refreshing feeling of luxury that this much water provided.  She ducked her head under and shook her hair out, running her fingers through the tangles and thoroughly wetting her entire head.  Then she burst up, taking a big breath as she broke the surface of the water, and leaned her neck back against the tub’s side.  She lay there dripping, and soon her tears dripped too.  She now knew sadness like she had never experienced, the sadness of love.  Her tears flowed freely as she let self-pity wash over her.  How could she enjoy so much goodness, knowing that it was bound to end so very badly?

Time passed, the harpy finally cried herself out.  It dawned on her that she was being greedy.  She wanted to have this love for herself for as long as she possibly could, but in having that she would surely hurt Grant even more when the inevitable end finally came.  The more time he spent with her, the more he would feel, and the more he felt for her the more he would be hurt by her deception.  It was cruel to stay any longer.  She stood up, squeezing out her hair and shaking off the wet from her body, and wrapped herself in one of Grant’s brown towels.  She went purposefully to the room that they now shared and dressed in her sundress and sneakers.  If her body changed again, it would be simpler to get out of this than a pair of shorts, she thought.  But as she turned to go, her plan suddenly screeched to a halt, for there in the door of the bedroom was Grant.

“I just couldn’t stay away from you all day,” he confessed, blushing.  “I told the boss I wasn’t feeling well, and just took off.  Are you all right?  You look different.”

“I am.  I was sad, but seeing you again makes that all go away.”

“I feel the same,” he confessed.  “I think I’m in love with you, Little One.”

Tears fell once again from her eyes.  “Oh, Grant,” she sobbed, overwhelmed with guilt, “I think I am in love with you too.”

He took her in his arms and cradled her to his chest.  “Don’t cry, hush now, it’s a good thing to be in love!”

“Then why does it fill me with so much fear?” the harpy asked, hiding her face in his shoulder.

“I don’t know.  I guess we’re only human, huh?”

She just let herself cry, and be held.  There was nothing she could think to say in response to that.

That night, sleeping on the floor next to Grant’s bed, the harpy dreamed a new dream.  In it she was nursing from her mother’s breasts, looking up into her deeply lined face.  It dawned on her as she nursed how ancient her mother must have been.  Then she was her mother, and the infant harpy was now in her arms, nursing from her own breasts.  She looked into the face of the babe, and saw Grant’s face smiling up at her.  She woke up, gasping and flailing on the floor.  Grant still slept.  She was aware now of a new ache in her breasts, and she felt certain that her body was telling her that conception had taken place.  She was carrying the egg that would soon grow into a newborn harpy daughter.  And she had no idea what to do about it.

In the early morning, Grant apologized.  He hated to leave her again, but said that he really couldn’t stay away from work any more without putting his job in jeopardy.  He kissed Little One goodbye and left in the pickup truck.  

The harpy was paying much closer attention to her body that morning.  Her dream was not a lie – she could definitely feel changes happening inside her.  And with them came an overwhelming desire to flee, back to her cave and as far from this crowded world as possible.  But she had no idea how to force her body to shift its form back, and without her wings, she would have to find another way to get back up her rocky sanctuary.  

Dale sensed the harpy’s approach and whinnied at her loudly, backing away as she did.  She didn’t like this creature in the shape of a woman; she just didn’t smell right at all.  But the odd woman-thing was quick and agile, and grabbed Dale’s mane as she whipped her head around to run.  Then she flung her right leg up and swung herself high onto Dale’s bare back.  Furious, Dale kicked and reared up, but it was no use – the woman-thing clung to her like a tick.  Finally subdued, Dale allowed herself to be ridden, and the two uncomfortable companions began the hot dry trek to the hills.

It was hard for the harpy to find her way back – she was much more accustomed to viewing it all from the sky.  But the general direction was clear enough, as the hills were plain in the distance.  Once they neared them, the harpy was able to spot familiar rocks and cactus and to do a fair job of guiding her mount.  In places the path was very steep, and it forced them to have to switch back and forth, taking each rise a little at a time.  By mid-day they were both hot and thirsty, but were nearing the spring in the rocks where the harpy had first become human.  When they got there at last, she dismounted and lay on her belly sipping directly from the creek.  Dale drank too, and then took advantage of the moment and trotted off back down the hill.  She’d had enough of being the good horse for one day.

The harpy walked the rest of the way, finding her cave undisturbed.  She began to gather stones, and pile them up in a circle just inside the mouth of the cave.  When she had completed the project she shook her head, as though waking up from a daydream.  Without even thinking about it, she had made a nest, flat stones lining the bottom of it and larger round stones making a short protective wall all around.  Clearly her harpy instinct was going to be her guide throughout this terrifying new experience.  She tried not to think too much about Grant, but to just focus her mind on the instructions her body was giving her.  She thought she ought to hunt now while she still could, but in this human body she felt unsure of herself.  And a part of her just wanted to let her body starve so that she could die like her mother had done.  She would prefer that now to a continued life of solitude.  

She sat down in the center of her newly made nest and let the wave of her many thoughts cascade over her mind.   What would her mother have said to her, if she were here today?  Could she have possibly experienced anything like this?  Had she fallen in love with her mate the way Little One had with Grant?  What would she do when her daughter finally did hatch?  There was barely enough terrain left here for her own survival, let alone two harpies.  She had already begun to think about needing a new home before all this happened.  If only she were able to stay a woman, and stay with Grant; she would abandon this wild life forever for him.  

Sunset came, leaving the sky filled with color.  The harpy watched as the rocks around her cave changed from tan to pinky-orange in the glowing twilight.  A tiny scorpion scuttled past across the sand.  These were things that she had seen a thousand times before, but since the changes that had disrupted her life, nothing was just as it appeared.  The beauty of the colorful sky made her think of Grant’s face, blushing and warm as they mated.  The rocks and sand around her cave flooded her mind with the shock she’d felt when first seeing not claws but human legs stretched out before her on the rocky earth.  Even the scorpion, a small but still dangerous thing, filled her with thoughts of the tiny creature growing inside her now, threatening to dismantle her world completely.  

It was completely dark when she heard the call in the distance.  It was Grant, calling “Little One” into the night.  He must have ridden Dale back up the hill.  Her heart welled up, and her tears spilled forcing dramatic sounds from her throat as she cried hard.  Grant heard her, and followed the sound of her crying until his lantern spilled halogen light across the harpy’s wet cheeks. 

“What are you doing here?” Grant shouted.  “You had me worried sick!  I mean I know this whole civilization thing is new to you, but you could have at least left me a note or something.”

“I, I don’t,” she gasped and choked back her sobs, “I don’t know how to write, Grant.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling stupid, “of course not.  But still – why would you go and leave me without even telling me why?  I thought you said you loved me, Little One!”

‘I did.  I do.  That’s why I had to go.”

“Now that just makes no sense at all,” Grant said grumpily, “When you love someone you stay with them.”

“No.  I love you too much to want to hurt you, and if I stayed you would surely be hurt,” she argued.

“What the hell does that even mean?”  Grant was fuming now.  “I am a grown man, Little One, I can handle whatever deep dark secret you are hiding from me.  Just tell me what you think is so scary and I’ll prove it to you.”

She looked into his eyes.  In the glow of the lantern, they looked gray rather than the blue that reminded her of daylight skies.  She wanted to tell him, but feared to – and here he was, telling her he was brave enough to handle it.  But could he be, really?  There was only one way to ever know.

“I am not a human woman,” she said bluntly at last.  “I am harpy.”

 “You’re what?”

“Harpy,” she said softly.  “My body shifted into this human form only when I saw you for the first time and found myself entranced by you.  Until that moment, I had always been just harpy, a great woman-bird.  This is new to me; I have had no education to guide me.  I am not sure how much longer I’ll be in this form now that our mating has succeeded.  I didn’t want to frighten you, and I didn’t want to put you in danger.  My instinct, once my body finally shifts form back, may be too hard to resist, and I love you too much to risk tearing you apart as I protect my young.”

“Holy…” he began, but looking into her face he saw that she was serious.  And as the answers to Little One’s mysterious nature clicked into place in his head, he fell down onto his butt in the dirt, the lantern rolling onto its side next to him.  “So you really are a bird.” He said finally.  

“Mostly, yes.”

“But you turned human for me?” he asked, disbelief flooding his voice.

“It seems so,” she replied.  “And I am joyful that I did, in spite of all this pain we share now.  I never knew love, Grant.  But now I do.”

He sat and looked at her, creases furrowing his brow, eyes a tumble of thought and feeling.  

“And you are, you’re pregnant too?” he asked quietly.

“I am carrying a fertilized egg, yes.  It’s growing in me now.”

“An egg,” Grant replied, “And it won’t be a human baby in that egg, will it?”

“It will not,” she answered in a whisper, “it will be a harpy daughter.  Our daughter, Grant, but not human.”

“Shit!” he swore, his face now in his hands.  “Jesus H. Christ!  I wait my whole life for a woman I can fall in love with, and when I finally find her she’s a flipping freak of nature!  It’s insane.  This whole thing is just nuts.”

“So you see now why I left…” she said.

“What if you’re just crazy?” he shot back, angrily.  “What if this whole ‘harpy’ thing is just in your head?”  

She stared him down, her golden eyes sharp on his.  Then she opened her mouth and screeched, forcing Grant to cover his ears to protect them from the deafening pitch and volume coming out of her.  It was not a sound any human woman could have made.  He couldn’t deny her this truth.  Whatever she was on the outside, she was harpy underneath.  And somehow he had to live with it.

The harpy ceased her cry once she saw in Grant’s face that he understood and believed.  But she wasn’t sure how much more she could expect of him.  Understanding was one thing.  Forgiveness?  That’s something else.

They sat in silence, Grant shaking his head.  

“I loved you,” he said at last.

“You still can,” she replied softly.

“Can I?  You said yourself you don’t know if you can keep from killing me, and you don’t know how long you’ll stay in human form.  How am I supposed to let myself go on loving you like that?”  

“I don’t know,” she said, looking down.  “I guess it is too much to ask of you.  I’m so sorry to have hurt you like this.”  

As her silent tears began rolling once more down her face, Grant found himself drawn to her, unable to stop.  He walked towards her, slowly, until he was able to reach down to her face.  He stroked a tear away, and held her jaw, gently lifting her face to his.  Everything he ever thought he knew was washing away with her tears.  As he looked into her face, he knew he could not just walk away from her and go back to his old life as though she had never entered it.  Whatever she was, she had locked onto something deep within him.  He was hers, and that was all there was to it.

“What can I do, Little One?” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.  “I can’t stop the feelings I have for you, no matter that it might be the smartest thing for me to do.  What can I do for you now?”

When morning came, Grant phoned his boss, and apologized, saying that he was going to have to go out of town for a family emergency.  He didn’t know how long he’d be gone, but he would try to stay in touch as things progressed.  He was sure, on hanging up the phone, that his job would most likely be gone by the time he returned.  But that was all too far in the future to contemplate.  He had more pressing things now on his mind than that.

Little One and Grant had been up all night talking things through.  She told him about her fears, and one at least seemed to be something he could help tackle.  This new harpy was going to need terrain of her own.  And Grant felt certain that he knew of as good a place as any to start.

Grant had a friend from high school whose family had moved up to northern Idaho their junior year.  That winter, he’d invited Grant up for snow skiing.  The mountains and lakes around the Idaho panhandle were beautiful, and there were acres of protected government land up there.  If they could get there and Little One could nest in those mountains, she’d be able to leave her offspring with plenty of good safe habitat in which to grow up.  

Little One was already beginning to look a bit pregnant.  Her belly had a small roundness to it that had not been there before.  If things continued to progress at this rate, they had no time to lose.  He went online and booked the next available flight to Coeur d’Alene.  Then he tried to figure out what to pack.  He decided to look at it as a big camping trip.  He broke out the backpack from his closet and stuffed it with as much survival gear as it would hold.  Then he called his neighbor, and asked if they could watch Dale for him while he was gone.  Once everything was in order, he gathered up all of Little One’s things, and together they piled everything into the truck and drove down highway 51 to the airport.

It was a good thing that Sky Harbor didn’t have those full-body scanners yet, thought Grant as the two of them went through security.  Lord knows what Little One would look like – but he felt certain the TSA would have no idea what to do about it.   He kept looking at Little One, trying to visualize her true form.  Then she would catch him staring, and he’d look away, feeling sheepish.  

It occurred to him as they sat waiting for boarding to start that this would not be the first time Little One had flown, but it would be a wholly unique experience for her to be on a plane.  He took some time to gently explain to her the basics, as far as he knew them.  As he did, he realized how utterly ignorant he really was about the technology of planes.

“But how can something this heavy be lifted, and with so many humans on board?” she asked.

“I really don’t know,” he confessed.  “I think it’s just a question of the right amount of power employed in the engines or something.  But they’ve been flying planes like this for decades – we may not really get it all, they do seem to manage all right.  If I thought we had more time, I’d have just driven the truck up, but you seem to be changing so quickly, Little One.”

“Yes, I know.  I wish I knew more of what to expect, Grant.  I wish I still had my mother to guide me.”

They soon boarded, and were seated over the wing of the aircraft.  Little One clung to Grant’s arm, avidly watching the movements of the ground crew as they loaded the last of the bags, and then switching her focus suddenly to the flight attendants as they hurried up and back through the plane getting everyone settled into their assigned seats.  When the engines powered up, her eyes got round like saucers, but she let her faith in Grant hold her emotions in check.  She watched attentively as they taxied down the runway, gaining speed, and marveled when she realized how much higher they were going than she’d ever flown before.  “We’re moving so fast!” she whispered, breathless, into Grant’s ear.  His neck warmed and he got little zinging chills as her lips brushed his skin.  

When they got to Spokane, they changed to a little prop plane for the journey East to Idaho.  Grant was happy that Little One’s first airplane experience had been with the larger and more solid-feeling jet.  This next one was small and loud, and left one feeling very rattled.  The trip was shorter in duration than the one up from Phoenix, but it felt like it lasted forever, especially for Grant, who had Little One digging her fingernails into his arm the whole time.

They gathered their bags, and hurried to the car rental counter.  Little One’s belly already seemed to be rounder, enough so that a lady at the luggage carousel had asked when she was due.  Little One had looked to Grant, who mumbled something about “a few months” and then rushed them away to the other side as though he’d just spotted his bag.  Luckily they were able to rent a Tahoe that gave plenty of room for them each and all the gear.  Grant bought a local map, and then the two of them sat in the car while he poured over it getting his bearings on the area.  He chose a path towards Sandpoint, to a little town called Sagle.  In the hills near lake Pend O’Reille lay some government forestland, and Grant felt certain that if they could get close enough to that area they’d be able to find some peace for the hatching.

Everything was shockingly green here, and Little One lowered the truck’s window so she could taste the air as they drove.  It was fresh and alive.  If Grant was right, and they were able to find a place protected from human habitation, this would be a perfect place for nesting.

The shadows were growing long as they continued down the little highway.  Grant kept his eyes on the road, but couldn’t help but notice as Little One started squirming in her seat.  He chanced a quick glance her way only to see her wiggling her way out of her pants.

“Everything all right?” he asked, bemusedly.

“They’re just too uncomfortable,” she said, grumpily.  

She looked so cute there, wearing just her t-shirt and panties.  Grant pulled over to the side of the road and threw it in park.  “You know, this may be one of the last chances I get to touch you like this while you’re still human.”  He slid over to her side of the truck and started kissing her.  The whole vehicle shook every time a semi passed them but neither one of them cared.  It was only when the sheriff’s spotlight popped on to fill the cab with white that they awoke to reality and pulled themselves together.  Grant got back in the driver’s seat quickly, and pulled a blanket from the pack in back to toss over Little One.  By the time the officer was at the window, both of them looked more or less decent.

“Evening, folks,” the sheriff said casually, “Everything all right here?”

“Yes sir,” Grant assured him.  “I just pulled over to take a phone call.”

“And how about you little lady,” the sheriff said eyeing her blanket-covered legs with suspicion.  “Do you need any help?”

“No sir, I am fine.  Grant was just helping to warm me up.” She said.

The sheriff paused, his eyebrows lifting toward the top of his forehead.

“With the blanket,” Grant quickly added, “I, I wrapped her in the blanket.”

“Mm hmm,” replied the sheriff.  “Well you best be moving along now.  It’s getting dark, and I’d hate to think of a sleepy trucker running off the road into you over here.”

“Yes sir – we’ll go right now.  Thank you!” Grant said gratefully, and put the truck into gear as soon as the man walked away.  “Whew!  If he’d been just a few minutes quicker, he’d have really gotten a show!  That’s just what we need.”

They decided it was too late to try and find the forest, and so they went into the town of Sandpoint and found a nearly empty little refurbished 1940’s era motel in which to spend the night.  Once he had checked them in, Grant took them through a nearby drive-thru Arby’s, bought a bunch of sandwiches, and drove back to the room to eat.  Little One looked different, and it was more than just her belly.  She had bags under her brilliant golden eyes, and the skin of cheeks seemed to be tightening across her bones.  He wondered how much longer he had with her in this form.

She ate ravenously, and then spent a long time trying to get comfortable on the hotel floor to sleep.  She finally pulled the cushions off the little sofa and made a sort of nest with them, and then was able to tuck into a fitful dream-filled sleep.  But as dawn crept nearer, Grant awoke to a gut-wrenching cry.

She was changing back, there on the floor of the hotel, and it was terrifying to behold.  Her cry was of pain, and he watched as her leg muscles cramped and twisted under her skin, and then began to recede into her body, feet curving into black razor sharp talons.  At the same time, he watched her beautiful copper skin go sickly green, and her arms dissolve into black-green feathered wings, which rattled the walls as they flapped and stretched, too huge to be contained.  It was over in a matter of minutes, leaving a deafening silence as the two of them stared at one another.  Grant was not sure what he had expected, but nothing she had told him could have prepared him for what he had just seen.  And now he stood there, not sure if he should be comforting her or protecting himself.  He held her gaze, and hoped that she wouldn’t tear him apart.