Shadowy shapes flew in from all sides, and I finally got a decent look at what we were facing. A giant eagle – long feathered wings, sharp talons, and a beak which looked lethal. Riding on its back were demi-fey, not exactly like any we had on Earth, but I still recognized the otherness of them. In fact, judging by their long hair, claws and screeching, they were my first glimpse of the famous battle-hungry harpies, female warriors who were well known for their bloodthirsty nature.

As Braxton caught sight of a harpy about to launch herself off the eagle and at his head, he let out another blast of fire. She ducked the flames, somehow managing to stay on her bird. While that distraction came at us front-on, two flanked me on either side. I rose to my full height; Braxton was sort of hovering, so it wasn’t hard to keep my footing. A harpy flung herself at me. I braced myself, calling on my wolf for extra speed and dexterity.

Just before the creature’s claws were to pummel into me, I shot both hands out and attached to the harpy’s forearms, spinning in a half circle and releasing her off into the air. The second hit me from behind and together we tumbled down. Thank the gods Braxton was a massive monster and had a broad back; otherwise that hit would have sent us both free falling. We scrambled to our feet, and I finally got a good look at the demi-fey.

They were definitely female, their bird-like features holding a semblance of a humanoid shape, hunched over a little in the shoulders and with defined breasts and hips. Her skin was gray and leathery looking – I guessed tough and hard to penetrate. Small, squinty eyes watched me as we circled each other. Braxton was still keeping the others at bay with claws, teeth and flames. My opponent opened her beak-like mouth and squawked at me.

“I don’t speak bird … or bitch,” I snarled at her. Not a total lie, I really didn’t speak bird, but I was damned fluent in bitch. Some would say expert levels.

The harpies didn’t appear to have any weapons, but seeing how lethal their hands looked, they mightn’t need any. I loosed some of my shifter energy and transformed my hands into claws.

It was on, bird-biatch. We were going to rumble.

Her movements were strong and confident as she took a large step across the scaled hide and came in swinging. I knew her style of fighting – direct, no illusions, so I was ready for that first move. I had my hands up protecting my face. I deflected her jab, mindful of how sharp her clawed hands looked.