A Harpy's Embrace

The harpies of Alder

Cyril Greenglade woke up to the usual sight of his beloved bedroom. It was all so wonderfully tasteful; the furniture carved out of quality pine wood, the carvings tied to the culture of Alder - the town he lived on the outskirts of. His family lived here for many generations. Beautiful pine-green tapestry of leaves and vines adorned the wall to his left, and there was a window on the wall opposite to it, with puffy curtains that matched the color of the aforementioned tapestry. Daylight which shone through the window illuminated Cyril's bedsheets. In front of his bed was his sturdy desk that had a chair with pine green suede cushions, which were impressively comfortable. On one side of the desk was his wardrobe, and on the other was a glass cabinet hosting books and curios on display, many of which were culturally significant. Most of the things in his house were accumulated over generations, and even though he had so many, he was in no way a rich man.

Getting up from his bed, the young man walked over to his wardrobe and picked out an elegant, but simple outfit, consisting of a white shirt, a burgundy vest, linen pants, and moccasins. The vest and moccasins were old, worn sporadically by Cyril's grandpa, but they were in good condition, as the family cared for their possessions. The most important part of Cyril's outfit for today, however, was his lucky charm - the feather of a harpy patron, the eldest daughter of the matron, made into a necklace. The feather was extraordinarily puffy and beautiful, of clean white color. Adorning the necklace and grabbing on of the books from the cabinet, the young man went outside and headed to Alder's temple, which was built on a hill, not far from his house. The whole town was in a valley surrounded by mountains and tall hills, and the main source of income for the residents was working in the silver mine it was known for, along for the enchanting forest on the surrounding hills. Cyril, however, wasn't a miner, but a hunter, just like his father.

-Good morning to you, Cyril - said the priestess when the young man entered the temple. She was a rather elderly, but fair and pleasant woman.

-Good morning, blessed mother - he bowed graciously as per the custom.

-Ready for your speech?

-Of course.

-Splendid. Would you like some tea? - she offered politely.

-I'd love some tea, mother.

Not more than half an hour later, the town was gathered in the temple, with Cyril ready to give his speech.

"Good morning my dear friends, today marks the 2nd anniversary of my father's death, may his soul be blessed. He trained me since childhood and was raising me alone since when I was a teen my beloved mother had passed. He was excellent at hunting, and I feel like he passed on his knowledge well, for I can now manage without his guidance. I shall never forget the efforts of those who helped me preserve my well-being when I barely entered adulthood, and my father became gravely ill. Let us pray for his noble soul."

After prayers, Cyril laid his book in front of him and prepared to speak again.

"My father, as an honorable hunter, was dedicated to protecting harpies, which he was truly fascinated by. I'm proud to say, that I continue this legacy. A few months past, I was relaxing in my living room late at night, when I suddenly heard toe-curling screeches coming from outside. I quickly grabbed my bow and arrows, running out into the night and following the screeches. The moon shone illuminated the forest brightly that day. I saw a frightening sight, the most beloved, bless her name, Kiriia, the patron of Alder's harpies, whose wing got caught in a branch. There were two dead wolves below her, with their guts spilled by beautiful Kiriia's sharp claws, however, there were a few more wolves, growling at her, just waiting until she gets tired from trying to free herself and screeching, and they'll be able to attack without getting clawed to death. I drew my bow and shot arrow after arrow at the hungry pack until they escaped. The noble and beautiful Kiriia, after I helped her with her wing, thanked me beautifully, promising that my deed shan't be forgotten, and allowing me to tell this tale as an example of how we should treat our blessed harpies. She'd lost many feathers that day and gave me one of them, which shall remain as my lucky charm for a long time; the very same one I'm wearing today. Let me read this book out loud to you now, "The Harpies of the World, and of Alder" written by my great grandfather, Argon Greenglade and his wife Eritra Greenglade, who was a harpy."