Chapter Text
All harpies knew to avoid humans.
It was the first thing all fledgelings learned. Humans were the largest threat to a harpy’s life. They had been as long as anyone could remember. More than a jaguar with hungry cubs, more than an eagle with its own chicks, more than a particularly large python.
Humans meant danger.
Thus, with no exception, a harpy was to avoid them at any cost.
Grian was never much of a rule follower.
Humans, for all the danger they posed, were intriguing. Any harpy could admit to that at least! Their curious antics and shiny things never truly failed to catch his eye, something Mumbo had told him off for more than once.
He wasn’t stupid, though. He kept his distance, and somehow, despite his bright plumage, not a single human spotted him.
So, perched in the canopy, he happily watched a little trail of humans waddle through the rainforest.
The leaves gently rustling by his head made it hard to hear anything they were saying, but bird eyesight was nothing to gawk at. Every little thing the humans did stood out bright as day, even among the dappled light of the forest floor.
Even so, he itched to creep closer. Or maybe his wings just needed a preen. Bah, whatever, Grian was feeling daring today!
Climbing through branches was second nature, coming almost as easy as flight. One talon there, the other there, watch your head… and he was right above the line of humans. Conveniently, they’d stopped to gawk at a tree, their leader pointing something out about how tall it was. Grian had picked up a decent bit of human language in his observations — at least enough to get what this guy was saying.
“This, friends, is an Angelim Vermelho,” they were speaking with a loud voice, enough to project to their audience, but not to hurt ears, “considered one of the largest trees in the Amazon!”
Grian stopped listening there, more interested in observing. This leader was so distinctly expressive compared to most humans, gesturing everything they said with a bright face. It was painfully obvious compared to their companions, who just nodded or made small sounds of amazement at the giant tree.
As he took in the human’s intriguing body language, eyes suddenly met his own. A jolt went through his feathers, instinctually puffing up. His talons gripped the branch he perched upon tighter, enough to splinter.
There was something familiar in those green eyes.
Curiosity.
Then, confusion. The slight furrow of a brow, a change in the light. Their expressions were written so clearly upon their face.
There was intelligence in there, though. Gears were turning behind those eyes that stared into him. He couldn’t afford to let that happen. Not in any world.
Heart thumping behind his ribs, Grian took off almost immediately, wood catching in his talons as wind met his feathers. He winced as branches tore at his wings — he would certainly need a preen after this one — but refused to stop until he met the open sky. There, he could hover and catch his breath.
That moment had only been just that, a moment. A second or two of eye contact at most. Yet his heart ran a mile a minute, wildly panicked in its cage in his chest.
A human had seen him.
Watchers above, that was exactly what Mumbo and Jimmy always said would happen!
He’d been careless. For a moment, he’d let his guard down, and a human had met his eyes. It was everything a harpy should fear.
Yet, alongside that spike of fear, excitement filled his hollow bones. It was inexplicable, he should be more scared than he’d ever been in his life, and for a second he was. Even for the prankster he was, being caught should never be such an entertaining prospect!
Maybe he just needed to go eat an agouti. Forget about this.
—
By no means did he forget.
For some days, he avoided the trails, but those eyes lingered in his brain. Something was drawing him back. Some morbid curiosity that could so, so easily get him killed. Humans were dangerous. He’d known that his entire life.
But no matter what, the eyes never left him.
When the sun began to slide down in the sky, Grian bid farewell to Mumbo, promising to bring him some food, before slipping through the trees. He had to find that human.
Typically, humans weren’t super active after midday. Not around here, at least. ‘Tours’ as they were called slowed down, and once the sun sank below the horizon, there were just a few stragglers left cleaning up the mess.
He was sort of banking on his human being one of those.
As the trail came in sight, a metallic scent hit his nose. Blood? Animal blood for sure, that of a small one. His brow furrowed as he cast an eye across the dimly lit path. Aha!
A small, dead rat sat in the open. He could barely hold back a snort of laughter. It was so plainly artificially set, the wound too clean and the carcass too obvious to be anything else.
Grian just had to mess with the human who put it there. Some gut feeling told him it was the same one for sure. Why else would a human throw a dead rat on a trail if not to catch a mythological creature? That logic made sense! Right? Yeah.
Without a second thought, he swooped down, wings extended, right atop the rat.
SPLRT.
Ah. Unfortunately, harpies weighed a little too much to afford actually landing on a small carcass like that, and Grian had just done so. Rat guts were all over his hind talons now. Yuck.
A gasp sounded from the foliage. Grian’s head shot up, eyes wide and wings spread. Watchers, he had to look horrific, shrouded in shadow with blood on him.
Good!
The moments drew on silently by, the wind rustling the canopy far above. It was several long seconds of staring at a bush before the leaves parted to present exactly the human he was looking for.
Slowly, the human stepped out, giving the harpy a solid look at them — er, him.
He was obviously male by human standards, though his colors were rather dull. Not like male harpies with dull plumage were unheard of, just a subconscious observation his brain made.
Scars crossed his tan skin wherever it was visible. Dark brown hair, slightly slick with sweat, fell over his face. Most notably, he seemed to be leaning on a curved stick. Interesting.
Those eyes were what drew him in, though. Sage green, with the slightest flecks of gold or brown, and a light of intrigue.
And then he was blind for a second.
Grian screeched, flapping his wings furiously, shaking his head and blinking the white flash away. Confusion swam in his head as he clawed at the dirt to regain his bearings.
“SHIT, SHIT, SORRY,” a voice exclaimed, revealing itself to be the human once Grian’s vision cleared. He was stumbling over himself, fumbling some object in his hands.
Grian just huffed, puffing up his wings as he waited for the man to correct himself. He did so swiftly, pocketing the thing and holding his hands up placatingly.
“I am so sorry, little bird,” his voice was soft now, quieter, soothing really, “I did not mean to have my flash on. I hope you forgive me.”
Something about that tone still irked him. It felt too soft for talking to an equal, as comforting as it was. Also, come on, little bird? Grian was bigger than he was!
“No.”
It was a simple word, easy enough to use. Speaking was quite a bit harder than listening, after all, and the word sounded strange coming from his mouth. Different than any human he’d heard for sure.
The sound came from the back of his throat, as all harpy words did. It just sounded a little odd translated into human language.
“I- oh! You talk!” The human blinked rapidly as he processed that. Frankly, Grian was mildly offended, but let go of it readily. He knew something this man didn’t, and that had his chest feathers puffing out in pride.
“Yes,” he responded with a smug flap of his wings. The wonder in the human’s face was absolutely worth every second of bad decisions he’d made up to this point.
The human’s brow furrowed, a hum leaving his throat.
“What are you?”
Now that gave Grian pause. He knew what humans called his species. Harpies, clear as day.
But should he admit that?
Should he compromise his safety further just for a few more moments of fun in the dying sun?
He found himself not actually caring that much, in the end. Nobody needed to know about this. Just him and this human.
“Harpy.”
He was only given a moment of silence before the man seemed to light up with questions, statements, and overall way too many things to say. Had harpies really kept themselves secret so well? This stranger was absolutely gushing over him, the sunset catching in his eyes in a way that made Grian’s stomach flip.
“Stop, stop, quiet,” he spouted every word he could think of to make the human pause for just a second. He did not, evidently not hearing the harpy. As a last ditch, Grian planted his scaled hand in his face, shutting him up.
“One at a time.”
After a deep breath, and having his face freed of bird hand, the human began slower.
“What’s your name?” His voice was filled with so much excitement, barely contained at the request of the harpy in front of him. Grian was still taken aback by his animated curiosity, but he couldn’t resist indulging.
First though, he had to figure out his name.
He’d never tried to translate it before, the few times he spoke human words to himself. Drawing a blank after a few moments, he just shot his shot.
He said it.
“Ee-ah?”
Again.
“Gree-ah?”
Again.
“Gree-an? Gria… Grian!” The human snapped his fingers, face lighting up as if he’d solved some massive mystery. “That’s it, Grian! Nice to meet you, Grian!”
Grian couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that, a smile breaking across his face. This human’s excitement was contagious.
“Your name?” He piped up, laughter still in his tone. He was getting a little tired of just thinking of him as the human, and he’d given his own name, after all. It was only fair!
“Oh, right!” The human bowed, one hand on his stick and the other making a grand sweeping gesture. “Scar Goodtimes, at your service, Grian Harpy-bird-thing!”
Scar. It checked out, given all the scars he possessed, but to be named after them was an interesting prospect. Grian tilted his head with a hum, then snickered again. Scar tilted his head up to see the harpy, a wide smile on his face.
“Nice to meet you, Scar,” Grian parroted, unable to stop as he smiled back. He hoped he was using that right — he hadn’t heard that specific term more than once or twice. Problems with a limited reference pool, he supposed.
“So, Grian,” Scar immediately launched into further questions, his eyes bright, “you say you’re a harpy? I- I honestly thought those were myths! How are you real?”
The genuine excitement in his voice, the way he felt so alive when he gestured and spoke with his hands, it all had Grian feeling rather riled up, but in the best way. Nobody had ever been this interested in just talking to him before! His friends were nice, obviously, but they were also harpies. They knew everything about him already.
This human, this Scar, was so interested in just him. The amount of reward centers going off in his brain were uncountable.
—
Hours went by with the two laughing in the setting sun. Grian’s face was burning from just how much he kept smiling, but he couldn’t help it! Scar’s enthusiasm rubbed off on him so easily!
He happily entertained the man’s curiosity well after dusk. It wasn’t until fireflies began to dot the distant underbrush that reality finally slapped him in the face.
Shit. He’d told Mumbo he was just going for a quick hunt, and here he was, spending hours and hours talking to a human instead. His head was gonna be on a stick if he found out.
Scar’s giggles trailed off as Grian went still, the smile faded from his face.
“Grian?” His concerned voice cut through the warm night air.
“I need to go,” the harpy blurted out. Luckily, Scar only seemed to question this for a moment before coming to his own realization.
“Oh, shoot, how late is it,” he mumbled to himself as he brought out the flash-thing again. Grian squinted suspiciously, but no bright lights came to stun him.
“8:14?? My shift ended already?? Whew, I gotta get going too, man!” Despite himself, Scar was laughing again. Grian couldn’t help chuckling in return, as high-strung as he was right now.
“Uhh, see ya tomorrow?”
The question gave Grian pause.
He wanted to.
He really wanted to see Scar again. The intensity of it stunned him. He could sit there and question just why he wanted to keep this human in his life, but honestly, he had bigger fish to catch at that moment. It was better not to let it linger anyway.
“Tomorrow.”
The smile on Scar’s face as he walked back down the trail was worth everything.