Title: Tatter Tales

Hirune adjusted the leather straps that ran between her breasts. After hours in the hot sun they would chafe at her shoulders, by the end of the spring she would regain the callouses that Abene’s ointment would sooth away over the winter months. The chafing, blisters and callouses were necessary as the straps were part of the plow that she needed to use to till the field. It almost made her envy her fully equine brothers and sisters.

Almost.

“Hirune!” Nahia called out to her from the other side of the field, then she whistled and flipped her long, russet red braid over one shoulder. “Are you going to dream the day away or get to work?”

Hirune snorted. She had no braid to flip since her hair grew up more than it did down. She had recently shaved it down to her scalp, however, and she would keep it close until winter fell again and they all curled up inside, desperate for anything to keep them warm.  “You’re one to talk. I didn’t see you here yesterday.” She stamped her hooves on the ground before she began pulling the plow. “I see you’ve new leathers.”

The leather straps wrapped around Hirune’s hooves were worn, well loved, also they were scraps from coats and shirts and from the occasional pair of pants that had been traded around the community long enough they were worn through. Nahia’s, however, were a red as vibrant as spilled blood and seemed sewn to the requirements of her hooves.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Nahia practically purred. Hirune didn’t answer, choosing instead to focus on her footing as she pulled across the field. The sun was still low but the air was warm and Hirune knew she would be sweating from exertion before the mid-day break. When they came halfway Nahia reached out to grasp Hirune’s hand. “I could get you some too, you know.”

“I don’t want any gifts from humans.” Hirune slapped Nahia’s hand away and ignored the other woman’s startled whinny. “Especially not those you need to prance for.”

Nahia’s laughter startled Hirune backwards and she bumped her rump against the plow’s base. “I didn’t prance for these! Although he wanted me to.” Her smile was feral. “It’s a limited edition item, dear. He’ll never sew again.”

Hirune felt deep satisfaction at the thought of Nahia crushing this mystery tatter’s hands and possibly head to bits.

“After the work is done.” She slapped Nahia’s ass when she came to it and smiled down at the ground when Nahia bolted forward. “Keep that pace up!”  

Title: Harpy Strikes a Chord

Seconds before the curse had hit her, she had thought that the loss of her family would be the most painful part. That was before she learned about what a pain feathers were to groom and the sharp cracking pain of a broken wing, before she came to realize that the ‘family’ she thought she would miss was really just the sentimental memories of her childhood.

She did miss them. She missed the songs Trypho would sing to her on dark, stormy nights when the walls of their house were rattled by the wind. She missed Mihail’s gentle touch and Xena’s soft, hidden smiles. She missed sharing secrets with her mother.

But Trypho had been dead for a decade before her curse, mangled by a wolf attacking their flock. Mihail had followed him into death years later, having joined the army he was sent to his death by men rich and plump with lies and money. Xena had lost her soft smiles the day their mother did not return and turned instead to hiding other things.

Xena’s secrets had led to her curse.

But was it really a curse? She had found there was so much more to life when one was not bound by two legs and two hands, when one had the wind to lift you up into the air, the ability to feel the sun on your face and the spray of the ocean without fearing either.

Had she never been cursed she would never have met her new sisters.

“Sister.” They all called each other sister but their words held so much more. Sounds no human could understand or describe. Sister-who-shreds-the-wind and sister-who-bites-hardest blended together with sister-perfumed-as-a-rose and sister-who-sings-sweet, it was all one word and yet many words, sounds and echoes and silences.

“Sister.” She called back, for there was only one response to give.

They smiled at one another, sharp teeth that shone bright under the glare of the sun. Below the rocky crags a lone traveler stumbled, delirious with hunger or thirsty or perhaps merely unsure of his footing. Around him whirled his life story, the screams of his mother at his birth, the cries of his sister when he beat her in some game, screams and tears of friends and lovers that created a whirlpool, drawing the sisters in.

“Sister.” Their third joined them, her claws scratched a symphony onto the rock. “Shall we dine?”

Sharp teeth and hard talons bared they dove as one, three hungry mouths opened in a scream.