... and the chill of night descends.

The night is cold, and your sleep fitful. The grey-winged harpy mother returned sometime in the evening, delivering some morsel for the rest. Your stomach grumbled then and it does still, but the thoughts of what they might be eating soured you on the thought. You did come here for missing sheep, after all. Despite the fever-dream you had earlier, the harpies are monsters, and if they're anything like other large predators, they couldn't subsist on fruits and berries if they wanted to. Shivering in the cold, imagining them tearing into some lamb like a pack of wolves, was enough to sour you on a lot more than the thought of eating, actually.

You grab at your torn pants, trying to hold the flaps with your knees as you huddle in on yourself. The mountaintop was cool during the day; it's freezing at night. The harpies know this, so they sleep in a cave, with their wings for blankets. You have neither a cave, nor a blanket, nor wings for that matter. You have a circle on the ground, and it hasn't done much to keep you warm. You shiver some more, tucking your head into your arms, and think about running away. Not for the first time, of course, but the fact of the matter is that there's a sheer cliff face on one side and solid rock on the other. As far as you know, the only way on or off the clifftop is flying. Had the moon been shining, you still might've gone for it, but since you can't see your own nose in this light, you acknowledged that attempting an escape now would be tantamount to suicide.

Then again, compared to those claws, a brief plummet had a certain appeal.

...you shake the thoughts away, and try to get more sleep.

The next day, you wake up to find a loaf of bread, stale and dirty, in front of you. Questions about its origin and edibility are completely ignored, and you've scarcely open your eyes before you're attacking the thing. It's gone before you know it, and though you wish for more, even that much has you grudgingly grateful. As your faculties return to you, it seems clear that the Greywing, the mother She-bird, must've brought it. None of the others seem comfortable with leaving their "nest." Perhaps they're not even able.

They come out of their cave every so often, one or two at a time. Red stares dismissively at you for a while, her mere presence both frightful and incensing. She leaves eventually, and when she does, Blue-feathers takes her place. She watches afar, or at least as far as she can in the confines of the clifftop. She peers at you from the cave, or above it on another, higher outcrop. She pretends not to look when you return her stare, and so you eventually stop trying to catch her. You're still unsure of how you feel about them. Even thinking that makes you feel a little sick, somehow. Being a prisoner, kept like a pet in your ring and abused like one too, clashes with the memory of what happened just yesterday. It's pathetic and you hate yourself a little for it, but for a little while you'd thought, maybe...

The hours stretch on.

The monotony is broken up with sex.

Gold-feather comes first, apparently intent on having her turn. You're unsure of what she wants, at first, and then somewhat unwilling. She doesn't seem to understand, and in the end, you have little say in the matter. It... it feels good. You can't lie about it; it feels good, but you don't. She gets her fix, though, and you think you're done with it. Part of what you have to deal with until... until whatever happens. You keep looking around the area, as surreptitiously as you can. When you're not feeling sorry for yourself or trying to sleep while the sun is out to provide some warmth, you're trying to remember what you saw when Greywing flew up the mountainside or spot some ledge or hint of a path back down.

It's in the middle of one of these naps that you feel a weight on your groin. You blink the sleep from your eyes, too confused to register the sensation of folds around your stiffening cock. When you see red feathers through your half-open lashes, you **** them closed again.

You want to throw up.

She's every bit as excited and vocal this time as she was the first. Her cunt grasps at you manhood again, gripping it like a lover, eager for its girth, and finally shaking just as intense when she peaks with a satisfied sigh. You're hard for her throughout, but you're not even remotely close to coming when she gets off of you. You refuse to open your eyes when she leaves, only turning on your side and pulling up your ruined trousers. Your own thoughts seem distant as you lay there, staring at the back of your eyelids, not even feeling the sunlight anymore. You're not sure how long you're like that, only that Greywing comes and goes once, and the twins come out to play for a while before retreating back into the cave.

You know it's much later when a scaled foot grasps at your arms, gently, rolling you over to face the sky. You know its owner, and when Orange lays on top of you again, your arms loop around her frame. You can feel her breasts against you again, hear her panting into your ear as she starts to grind her hips again, riding your cock with characteristic passion. You cling to her tighter, taking in her scent, feeling her hair under your hands. Tears well up again in your eyes, and as you start to thrust into her, you feel her orgasm immediately. You press in harder, rocking her body with enough **** that you're bouncing her off your hips on your own now. She moans, pressing the side of her head against yours, but no sooner does her cheek brush against yours do you turn away. Ropes of cum spray inside of her as you sob openly. The sound surprises her and she pulls back slightly, but you can't make her face out clearly anymore.

"You're no better," you whimper, and you're not even sure what it means, only that it hurts to say and hurts to hear.

Orange is still, watching you intently, lost to the meaning of your words. She remains there for some time, listening to your voice grow weaker. You feel her hesitation in her breath, through her chest, all the way down to where you connect at the hips. Nevertheless, she eventually rises to her feet, her wings gently caressing your cheek once more.

Night comes soon after, or it seems to, anyway.