It's time to run.

There's no way you're going to beat this thing with a sword. A bow wouldn't cut it either, you'd need a ballista to kill something that big. You run, scrambling down the mountainside in the hope of getting to the safety of the treeline. No screech echoes out from above you, no whistle of wings to warn you of its approach. You want to look up, but one second spent not looking at the rocky path will send you tumbling down its deadly slopes.

You're panting in a **** sprint, mere seconds from reaching the trees when an incredible weight sends you to the ground. Your jaw bounces off something hard and you yelp in pain, but there's no air left in your lungs to cry further. Your sword is flicked out of your hand and sent tumbling into the shady woods, and then you feel sharp claws turning you over.

The sight stuns you. Wings and claws mar her appearance, but what is otherwise unmistakably a woman stands above you. A very tall, powerfully muscled woman, with a wild appearance and claws as thick as your wrist wrapped around your torso. The harpy's glare, just as sharp as her talons, chills your blood to ice. It travels up and down your body, assessing you like a butcher would a carcass, and you know your only hope is that she throws you away like a fisherman would a minnow.

It fades very quickly when she spreads her wings.

There is a surge of air and a painful lurch, and then you're only aware of the howling wind. Trees become distant twigs and rocks become pebbles as she soars away from the safety of the settlement and up, up, up until the very clouds hide the world from view. The harpy dangles you under her with a painful tightness, but as your clothes flap wildly in the open sky, you desperately wish she would tighten her grasp. You blink and squint against the wind, trying to make out something, anything as the clouds chill you to the bone, when suddenly a stone cliff looms up towards you. Screaming meets your ears as the harpy zooms upwards, almost grazing the craggy surface, and it continues until she flares her wings and drops you unceremoniously on the precipitous heights. The shrill wail continues, and you realize that the scream is yours as your ragged voice finally gives out.

A staccato burst of sound from behind you sends you scrambling, and you turn to see the harpy calling out again, her teeth tight as she repeats her grating cry. Giving you one last heart-stopping glare, she all but falls off the mountain in a twisting dive, her wings snapping out to carry her around in a lazy loop around the peak and out of sight. You pant, hands trembling, as you're alone once more.

It doesn't last.

Voices, many of them, meet your ears. You whip around to see the pale glint of eyes in the dark mouth of a cave, their owner's emerging slowly from its maw. Five she-birds, all as naked and lethal as their mother, stalk towards you, curiosity and clear hunger in their eyes. You think your heart actually does stop then, as while the fear of becoming the first's meal was terrifying, being torn apart by a flock is almost enough to make you faint. Before the thought of running even crosses your mind, the largest two of the bunch dart forward, their claws pinning your arms down to the rock.