Harpy With Benefits

The midnights in the canyon were unexpectedly frigid. One might’ve thought that the day’s heat would’ve carried over, but that was not the case. Without a cloud in the sky, it left without a trace, leaving things acceptably chilly. A thicker set of robes addressed such minor grievances.

Too bad it was noon on a blistering summer day.

The sun unleashed its full might now, shimmering the sandy mounds and ridges in the distance as it became difficult to even stand in one place for too long.

At least a wind would blow through the plateau here and there, hissing in the sand as it carried away some of the heat. Sometimes she’d win the lottery, and it’d blow directly on her. That—combined with the bazaar’s canopy—made things barely bearable here for a shopping trip.

Most lived in the underground capital city of Mednessa for that reason, where things were perfectly average through sun and moon, where the ground was walkably solid, where the waterways kept the populace hydrated…

…and where the harpy was a wanted criminal.

A few encounters with some traders meant Helianne would only walk through the city in chains behind a newly prosperous bounty hunter. She was hungry and poor back then, and those city merchants had plenty to go around. How much value could they put on a few forgettable sacks and barrels, anyway?

Apparently a lot.

Each failed attempt to bring her to justice raised her reward and infamy, which brought in more failed attempts and even more notoriety. It wasn’t long before the harpy had quite the name, numbers, and missing mercenaries under her.

Fortunately, the shantytowns and traveling markets on Dustia’s elevated outskirts cared little for bounties or outlaws. Precious metals were precious metals regardless of their origin, and each crumpled armor and weapon increased her coin, which could buy all sorts of necessities.

“Your Majesty, please slow down!” With a cart behind them, Aster and Nerine wove through the market’s crowd.

Unlike their portrayals in the narrow tales passed down in the mountains of Spire, the werewolves here were shorter, less furry, politer, and more interested in exchanging goods and services than tearing out throats or carving up bellies.

And these two were more interested in servitude.

Oh, and they were also much, much cuter. Hers especially, with their matching gold chokers and pink hair that made them stick out in a crowd. Aster’s hair was short, Nerine’s was slightly longer, and the harpy’s feathers adorned both.

The other werewolves at the market didn’t seem to care that she had practically domesticated two of their kin. Then again, those two were… never mind.

However, the market-wolves did care about how sloppy they were at navigating the place, and that earned the three visitors plenty of glares, plentier than that time she jested they were simply humans with wolf’s ears and tails. Or that time she took off in the middle of the market.

Five coins wobbled on a slightly happier shopkeeper’s counter as Aster carried a pot of dye over to the cart. It creaked when he set it inside, and it creaked again as the two resumed pulling it.

For a second.

Then came a clank of forty-or-so coins for a barrel of water. After it landed in the wagon, Aster braced himself against the wagon’s side and panted a few times.

Helianne’s attention was already elsewhere, her head having turned to the stalls behind her.

She might have rotated a bit beyond the range of how far heads were expected to turn, but how else was she supposed to get a good look at those blankets without wasting time spinning around?

Paleness cut through the shopkeeper’s dark skin as the harpy’s head turned back to her, and she turned even paler after Helianne flashed the werewolf a fidgeting smile.

Helianne rubbed her wings together. Hmmm… what else did she need today? Oh yeah, some Mednessite staples! Thankfully, they sold them here too, otherwise the queen’s food stores would’ve stayed empty of such wonderments.

But first, eleven more coins for perfume.

Aster reached for the delicate, citrusy bottle on the counter, but Nerine was faster. The wolf girl pocketed it and tousled his hair with her free hand as she stuck out her tongue.

With clothes to the north, trinkets to the east, artisans to the south, and food to the west, everything was so organized here. As for the market’s center, that held all the odd things, like drugs, toys, mercenaries, massages, and Helianne.

Aster and Nerine stopped their bickering as their queen eyed the rows and rows of food stalls in the distance.

A rainbow of aromas greeted the harpy as she skipped her way to the western quarter of the market. Sweet scents ambushed her from one direction, spice and citrus from another, and the nostalgic scent of baked goods from… that way!

Her mouth watered as she hopped into the bakery’s short line. Behind the counter, countless werewolves and the occasional dust elf toiled away in the kitchen. Some powered the gristmill, others kneaded dough, a few watched the ovens, and one managed the counter.

A welcoming heat emanated from there, and its scented glow met her more and more while the queue thinned.