by Susan Klaus
Kari was also pleased. Charlie’s hair was grayer and his face more wrinkled, but her Indian guide was the same great companion.
Charlie navigated through the Terrance streets, and they soon left the quaint river city. After passing rolling hills of pastures and farms, they started their journey on the dilapidated, westbound road. The light faded and they entered the deep jungle. The magnificent trees lined their path, and their branches connected overhead, creating a canopy. Darkness came and vehicle headlights lit the way through the cavern of trees.
“If you’re tired, I can drive,” Kari said.
“It is not far, but I will tell you if I grow weary.” The terrain vehicle moved slowly on the dirt road that was full of dips, fallen trees, and boulders. Had the road been smooth, the vehicle was capable of rapid speeds, but they were in no hurry.
“I heard about the swarms,” Kari said.
“Yes, your father and I are very worried. He is doing everything to find a toxin to kill them. At the mill, the storage room off his office has been turned into a lab. Every night he experiments with chemicals on beetles we captured. He does not trust the government to solve his problems.”
The pride in the old man’s voice was obvious, as though John were his own son. She listened quietly as Charlie continued.
“When a swarm struck two homes in the south, your father stopped work at the mill. He supplied the lumber and sent his men to rebuild those families’ homes. He is a good man with a good heart.”
“Maybe to others,” Kari said, unable to control her smoldering resentment.
“Such anger, still.” Charlie breathed deeply. “Earth was hard for you.”
She tried to respond, but couldn’t. His few words brought back all the misery. Like a dam breaking, tears flooded down her cheeks, and she lowered her head and sobbed. He stopped the vehicle and held her as she trembled and wept in his arms, unable to control all the pent-up emotion. She gasped, “I’d rather die than go back to Earth.”
“It’s all right, it’s all right now,” he said softly.
The forest grew dark and echoed the sounds of the nocturnal. After some time, she pulled away and attempted to apologize.
“Shhh,” he said, shaking his head. “I worried for you all these years. Our hearts are similar. I am old, but I still remember my life on Earth. It is not for the free of spirit. I tried to tell this to your father, but he would not listen. But it is over now, my Kari. You are home and the jungle will heal you.”
“Yes, I’m home, finally,” she sniffled. “The only thing that kept me sane was knowing I’d come back.”
Charlie started the engines, and they traveled in silence.
“The inn is near,” he said. “We shall eat and sleep. Tomorrow will be a good day.”
“Just being here with you makes everything all right.”
* * *
Charlie parked in front of the inn office. The building was made of rough timbers, and to the side were individual small cabins. He went inside to check in while Kari waited in the vehicle. In a few minutes, he returned. “The second cabin is yours,” he said. “I am in the third. They stop serving dinner soon. Do you want to freshen up before we eat?”
Kari nodded and took her small bag into the cabin. She went to the bathroom sink and splashed water on her face, a ritual she had practiced on Earth. She soon joined Charlie outside.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much better.”
They walked to the office and small restaurant. They found the place was virtually empty of customers. Charlie ordered a reptilian steak with a spicy herb sauce, and Kari had grilled vegetables, all native to the jungle.
Charlie talked about the beetles and how over the years he had seen small nests, but the insects had never multiplied to vast numbers until now. Kari listened and ate in silence. He told her of events she had missed—his last great hunt, killing a large zel stag with ten-point antlers.
“Charlie, I don’t remember you talking this much.”
“Nor I,” he answered. “I guess I missed you.”
“I really missed you, too.”
They ordered a cobbler dessert with wild berries, and Kari ate every bite. “You were hungry,” he said.
She smiled, a little embarrassed. “For ten years, I’ve been ravenous for Dora’s food.”
“It is good you eat now, for tomorrow we camp, and you must endure my cooking. The inn before Westend is closed.”
“I’d rather camp and never went hungry with your cooking.”
The dimming lights in the restaurant signaled it was about to close. Charlie paid the bill, and they walked to their individual cabins.
“Tomorrow we start early,” he said, standing in front of Kari’s cabin.
“I’ll be ready. Good night, Charlie, and thank you for letting me cry on your shoulders.”
“My shoulders are always yours.” He grinned and left for his cabin.
Kari went in and took a shower. She lay down on the bed but couldn’t sleep. The clicking, screeches, and bellows of the night jungle seemed to call to her. Dressing, she stepped outside, thinking a short walk might help her relax. A moist breeze whipped at her hair and made a musical sound through the branches. Dora’s twin moons were full and lit up the deserted dirt road. Mesmerized by this magical night world, she ignored the hazards and sought the comfort of the wild. She walked among the breathing shadows, drawn farther and farther from the inn. Her senses intensified. For the first time in years, she felt alive. It was like a dream— a dream she had longed for.
In the distance, Kari heard the low growl of a grogin. Glancing back, she saw the far-off inn lights. Another growl came and it was closer. She knew about the sleek brown predators. Resembling a cat and weasel mix, grogins weighed in at one hundred pounds and were deadly. Hunting in packs, they could bring down Dora’s largest reptiles. If one existed, there were others. Running was not an option. She might stimulate an attack, appearing like fleeing prey. She started walking back to the inn and safety. Only several feet away, she heard a snarl in the thick brush and froze. Any movement now would invite a grogin to pounce. Her heart beat fast as she listened. The snap of twigs and the underbrush giving way told her that several grogins were behind and alongside of her. She was surrounded.
Kari moved her foot from side to side in the dirt until she felt a baseball-size rock. Slowly she picked it up. The crackling leaves and growls came closer as the pack converged on her. Sweat ran down her body, but she dared not move. The outline of a large grogin, the female pack leader, appeared on the road. Her escape route to the inn was now cut off. She carefully raised her hand and threw the rock. It struck the female’s ribs. The grogin released a surprised snarl and jumped into the bushes. Kari hastily searched for another rock, but only grasped a handful of pebbles. She sent them flying toward the animals behind her. The growls and crash of bushes conveyed that the animals had been startled, but pebbles would not scare off a pack for long.
More leery, the large female returned to the road and stalked Kari. With each step, the grogin paced closer and snarled, the moonlight exposing her long, white fangs. The grogin postured, hoping to intimidate and make Kari run.
Too late, Kari recalled as a child that she should always carry a large stick. Charlie had told her, “A good whack on the nose will make most wild animals think twice.” She searched for a broken branch or makeshift weapon, but could find none in the dark. Calling for help was out of the question. She was too far away to be heard, and the noise would incite a charge.
When the female pounces, I must go for her eyes, Kari thought—the only option left to surviving a mauling. The animal moved in and crouched. Kari trembled, preparing for the ill-fated fight.
A dark shadow abruptly fluttered down, landing between her and the grogin. The brown wings were fully extended to appear more menacing. The frustrated grogin fiercely growled at the intruder, but when the male harpy hissed and stepped toward the animal, it backed off. Not satisfie
d by the grogin’s retreat, the harpy tossed his dark locks, flapped his wings, and leaped at the large female. The female grogin cried out and sprang for the underbrush, the pack following her lead. Their anxious cries and yips echoed through the distant trees.
Shocked, Kari couldn’t move or speak. The brown harpy folded his wings and approached her. The beaming inn lights caught his large green eyes. She gazed up at the tall, lean frame, and fascination replaced terror. He was so handsome and majestic. His chocolate wings and sweeping brown hair glistened with silver created by the moonlight. Except for the golden harpy, she’d never seen a more attractive male. He sniffled, and his asking eyes held concern.
“I’m not hurt,” she said.
The harpy deliberately closed his eyes as though he understood. He raised his head and stared toward the inn. Backing away from her, his self-assured features turned to fear.
“What’s wrong?” She glanced down the road. “There’s nothing there.” She looked back, but the harpy was gone. She whirled around, searching the starry sky and shadowy trees, but like a ghost, he had vanished. She now heard Charlie calling her name.
“I’m here,” she answered and hurried down the road to meet him.
“Are you all right?” Charlie asked. “I heard grogins on the hunt, so I got up. Then I found your cabin door open and you gone. It scared me.”
“I’m okay, Charlie. The grogins ran away when they heard you.”
“I should scold you for wandering in the night jungle,” he said sternly. “But I think you have learned that lesson tonight.”
“Yes,” she said. “I won’t go in the jungle again unless I have a laser gun. I’m sorry I worried you.”
“The worry I can live with. I am only grateful you are unharmed.”
They reached her cabin, and after saying good night, Kari went inside and collapsed on the bed. She shuddered, reliving the near-death experience, but then she thought about the brown harpy. For the second time, a harpy had saved her life. It couldn’t be coincidence. Perhaps she did have a strong sixth sense, and the creatures detected she liked them. She tried to envision all the details of the encounter, recalling she had told the harpy that she was unharmed.
“He asked me,” she said, stunned. “He asked if I was hurt.” The harpy hadn’t uttered a sound, but she heard his question enter her subconscious. Kari rose and paced the room. “Is it possible that I can understand them, and they can understand me?”
She dropped on the bed and felt guilty about lying to Charlie as to who really had saved her from the grogins, but she had experienced such grief as a child when exposing a harpy encounter. To confess the truth would raise concerns from Charlie and her father—concern that for some reason, the winged creatures were drawn to her. She crawled into bed and shut her eyes.
3
Feeling his presence, Kari reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He snuggled against her and tenderly kissed her lips. Exploring his sleek muscled frame through touch, she ran her hand across his shoulder and down his ribs. His body quivered, and he panted softly. He nuzzled his face deep in her hair and licked and kissed her neck.
Kari shuddered with excitement, caressed by his gentle hands. The golden moved to her breasts and suckled. She breathed hard and firmly grasped his long blond hair to control him. Unfazed, he rubbed and wiggled his lightweight frame again hers. His yellow feathers fluttered with sexual stimulation. She felt the pit of her stomach rise and fall, aroused by the gorgeous creature.
Pushing his locks aside, she stared into his longing eyes and detected his reluctance to leave. “Don’t go.”
“Soon,” was his answer, though he made no sound. Suddenly, he was gone as quickly as he had come.
Kari jolted from the bed and stared around the vacant room. Perspiration ran down her face, and she heaved for breath. Flinging her damp hair from her face, she jumped up and checked the windows and door. Again they were bolted. “Another dream,” she said, sitting on the bed. It was the same dream, but more powerful than the last.
On Earth, she had often dreamed of the golden harpy—the rescue from the mogel, him treating her wound, the flying, but these Dora dreams were very different. They were filled with passion. And he was different. The golden was no longer a stranger or a curious creature protecting a young girl, but he was now her lover. She then remembered something else. He wasn’t a slight teenager with short, creamy wings, but had matured into an adult, his shoulders broader and his long wings were now a rich buttercup-yellow.
Why the golden? she thought. A gorgeous, brown-winged harpy had just saved her. Why hadn’t she dreamed of him? She crawled into the sheets, preoccupied with the dream.
* * *
Kari woke to the sharp rap on the door, and morning light flooded the cabin. Stumbling out of bed, she murmured, “Charlie.” She opened the door and found the Indian waiting outside. “I’m sorry I overslept,” she stammered. “I won’t be long.”
“There is no hurry. I will be in the restaurant,” Charlie said, and headed toward the main building. Kari showered, dressed, and packed her small bag. She met Charlie in the empty dining room. He was eating fried lizard eggs with a zel steak and coffee. Kari ordered a bowl of fruit and told Charlie about the grogins, but again excluded the brown harpy and his intervention from her story.
She and Charlie soon were back on the narrow highway. Charlie slowed the terrain vehicle when a large herd of deerlike creatures called zels crossed the road. Their dark green bodies with yellow stripes glistened as they darted into the safety of the trees. Once among the foliage, they raised their rust-colored heads up to see the vehicle.
An hour later, Charlie was forced to stop the vehicle. A twelve-foot red dragon lay across the road, sunning itself. Charlie got out of the vehicle and yelled, “Go on, you big bum.” He grabbed a downed fan branch and prodded the giant carnivore. The reptile seethed and snapped at the branch before standing and sluggishly moving off into the brush, its long tail swishing with annoyance. Charlie chuckled and climbed back into the vehicle.
“Most men would have killed that dragon,” Kari said.
“Perhaps, but it would be a senseless kill. A lazy dragon is a fed dragon and no threat.”
“Would you call harpy hunting also a senseless kill?”
“Yes, but I am an Indian and think differently than other men. I kill only for food or to protect myself and would never harm a harpy.”
“Why do men kill them, Charlie?”
“You have asked me this question many times as a child.”
She glanced at him. “I’m not a child anymore, and I still don’t understand why men kill such beautiful creatures.”
“On Earth, you learned about that planet’s past wildlife. The tiger, the white seal pup, the elk, the shark, and countless others—all beautiful and all gone from hunting or loss of habitat. The harpies will share their fate. Dora is a remote outpost with no protective laws for its wildlife. Knowing this, many men travel here, seeking the thrill and glory of the hunt. With a harpy’s instincts and intelligence, they are the most challenging game animals in the galaxy, causing their wings to soar in value. Some men come, hoping to get rich off these feather trophies. And the Dorians believe that harpies are dangerous, so they are content that the hunters wipe out this threat.”
“Like Dad?” she said. “I’ve heard the rumors of harpies stealing and raping women.”
“They are not rumors, Kari,” said Charlie, “so do not judge your father so harshly. Now that you are older, he might tell you why he hates the harpies.”
“I doubt it,” she snapped. “He’s always kept things to himself, and besides, I don’t give a damn about his reasons. A harpy helped me, and Dad’s phobia cost me ten miserable years on Earth.”
Charlie massaged his chin. “Your father’s dislike of these creatures has lessened. After you left for Earth, he was grateful to the young golden for saving your life and placed a ban on harpy hunting that covered the e
ntire estate. The harpies found a sanctuary there, and all these years, they have flourished in peace.”
“Dad kept his promise to protect him,” Kari murmured, more to herself. She looked at Charlie “Maybe my golden male is still alive.”
“He is. I saw him a few years ago. If he had been caught and killed, I would know. Such news would spread quickly through Westend.”
“Where did you see him?”
“On one of my hunts near the coast. He stepped out on the path and stood before me. I had a laser gun and could have easily shot him. He stared at me for a long moment and then flew away. How he has survived all these years is a mystery. I’ve never seen a more brazen creature. That fearless nature has led to the goldens’ downfall.”
Kari leaned back, barely able to contain herself. “I knew he was alive. I just knew it.”
“I never told John about the golden,” said Charlie. “And I hope to keep it that way. Though grateful, your father still does not care for harpies. He protects them only for his love of you.”
“I won’t say anything.”
Charlie grinned slyly, looking at her. “It might also be unwise to mention the brown harpy that chased the grogins away last night.”
“You saw him?”
“I am old, but my eyesight is still good.” He chuckled. “I had my laser sights fixed on the grogin and nearly fired when the harpy landed and scared the animal away. I watched and made sure no harm came to you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the brown harpy,” she said. “I was afraid it would cause more trouble.”
“I understand,” he said. “You were unfairly punished when the golden saved you. A second meeting with these creatures would alarm your father.”
“A vet at the Hampton Zoo thought I might have strong instincts, and harpies can sense that I like them. That’s why they come to me.”
“This vet is right,” he said. “You’ve always had a way with wild creatures, and most animals can detect danger, fear, and acceptance. The golden knew that I, too, would not hurt him. The harpies may look human, but they are animals. For one hundred and fifty years, their instincts, fast flight, and wit have allowed them to survive despite man’s technology and weapons. Humans couldn’t prevail under those hunting pressures. But, Kari, why the harpies come and want you alive is unknown. Be very careful and don’t trust them.”
