Run, jog and walk, repeat. I strain my body, a body not designed for the run or jog preferring the amble. My fur exudes sweat and gathers grit with every urgent step - yuck. With every snort of effort, I am further away from my tormenters, further away from my waiting death and the sole reason for my desperation. Also, the strange creature known as Aphrodite, what of her?

Tired and weary, I plant my plush amble buttocks on the forest floor, caressing my muzzle fur as I survey my surroundings and consider what next. The thinning forest confirms I didn’t walk in a circle at least as I endeavoured to avoid the abandoned town. The town is a place of superstition and cursed as a gateway to destruction, which ruptured the Beast kin Accord, it is believed.

Birdsong welcomes and celebrates my pause as did I! As dusk approaches, they go silent and night insects take up their call. I am rested and reach for one of the last orc water skins with any water, it swings around from my back, its friend empty. My stomach grumbles reminding me of the need to find a meal and I dig in the orc pouch on my hip and grab out the last of the mushroom and insect paste, a feast worthy of an escaped prisoner I chuckle to myself.

One of the reasons I halted my tramping before dusk towers before me. A rock, no, the rock. Each side sheer, it is an island on land the perfect haven for a perfectly proportioned Badger Kin challenged martially and athletically. I am smart and clever though, so rested, fed and watered I pace around my potential overnight salvation. No point in trying to climb, I know my limitations. I step back, contemplating possibilities from each side.

A thin tree gains my interest. Now a tree I can sort of climb, there is a primeval memory resting in the back of my racial origins. I am equipped with the required tools, namely clawed hands and feet and a sense of desperation and self-preservation.

I commence leaning out from the trunk and realise the trunk isn’t bending. Climbing higher is a risk, nevertheless, I am committed and claw my way up and disturbingly the trunk starts to sway about, side to side and I crane my neck around to spy my landing spot. Precarious is not a word I wish to dwell upon before my moment of truth. I can imagine the elders of my Sett tsk-tsking at my antics. My retort, I need sleep and to sleep, I need to feel safe, regardless of the folly.

I lean out from the trunk providing the direction required. The tree trunk curves obligingly without cracking. I crane my neck around again. I need to climb higher. The tree trunk above is rapidly thinning, therefore claw over claw and then reassess.

A swooshing and swishing approaches, feint at first. I freeze, flying creature? Flying creatures usually develop keen eyesight. I try to nestle my body within the branches and thinning leaves of my tree haven, and I suspect I fail. My body shape and black-white fur won’t assist to conceal me. I am incapable of climbing down in time, the swooshing hammers now and I am drawn to seek out its source.

Three large bat-like creatures fly across the treetops, their taloned feet are large and out of proportion to their bodies. Their wings are leathery bat-like, the moonlight reflects differently across their bodies, scales. One casually glances down, none of them pause or wing around, they maintain their formation determined to continue to their destination. They aren’t hunting, to my relief. They are new, a creature never previously seen, their existence reminds me of another, although she doesn’t bear wings. The world is changing, and I am momentarily shocked, then I breathe and choose to calm down as I realise in a moment of clarity Aphrodite is the key.

I adjust my position and the trunk curves, a sweeping gentle curve, predictable, another claw over claw and now the trunk curves downward, the leaning is done. A glance down, I am near the edge of my rock. Another claw over claw and the curve tightens, I will miss the edge. Be brave my beating heart. I will need to swing out from the tree’s trunk.

This is the moment. I will need to swing blind, my arms burn with my effort so far and I doubt I can support my lower body while I swivel my grip to face my landing.

I strive for beyond release, I detach my feet claws and shove off, stretch my body to build momentum and as my body swings past the hang point of my hand claws grip there is a booming crack. Distracted, my release is later than planned and I am plummeting. To call my graceless fall flying is an insult to falling.

Young badger kin sprint towards water giggling and yelling, grab a rope hanging from a tree and swing out, releasing to dive in with a splash. They laugh and swim back to shore to swing again. A rhythm grows over time after many attempts and then one will misjudge.

---

Shaking my head side to side to regain my senses, I can’t budge. Mentally I search for pain, the broken bone type and discovered my pain spreads across the front of my body, upon which, I landed. My dismount, a body slam into rock, wishing for water instead, knowing despite perceptions the pain difference at a given height similar.

Breathe deeply and rollover. Fortunately, I rolled right and remain on my rock island. As the ramification of the other choice slaps my brain shivers sprint down my spine while I retrieve the water skin digging into my back. I drink deeply consuming the last of my water. Staring at the night sky, I remembered the direction the flying creatures took, hopeful they fly towards the river and more water. If the river flows in the East, then the abandoned town should rest in the opposite direction, and I roll my head around seeking to confirm my theory.

The abandoned town’s location didn’t present a challenge to confirm. The height of the rock provides a platform, although laying on my back didn’t assist. Many treetops obscure my view of course although those considerations are meaningless. As I peer through the interfering leafy foliage a glow grows before my widening eyes, confirming the direction of the abandoned town. I suggest to myself the shining light might not originate from the town perhaps before the town or beyond the town potentially. I mean both are possibilities, except for the ancient legend and the reason for the Beast kin Decree, which describes such an event in detail, long thought a story to scare children.

Releasing my held breath and closing my eyes sleep takes me easily. I hope in my tiredness dreams are beyond me as I dread the possibility of a nightmare. A Beast kin summoning, each tribe returning, forced into a peace against their will in an abandoned town, a place of unique taboo. What could go wrong?

--- Aphrodite POV

Their campfire draws me towards them, the moonlight enhancing my eagle sight. My wings pump the wind beneath me in anticipation. One Lion Beast kin wakes another as I spy upon them, change of shift I suspect. My thoughts and planning are snapped by pain. A warning. The tether to my Dungeon Master is stretched and will never sunder. I can stray no further in this direction.

“First, to me, now!”

The forest is no longer a forest, mostly thin trees, shrubs and grasses, in fact, the Lion Beast kin would consider themselves near escaped, possibly several days of relaxed travel and then home. I am determined to change their future.

The mature tall tree I land upon stands out, the single choice available proudly reigning over the brushes and brush around it. The foliage is adequate at night under the moonlight to distort my body shape. I admit I am not hidden from any casual search, relying on any searcher to not look up. I accept the risk as I hunt Feline Essence an urge in alliance with my Harpy form for a different reason, flesh and blood.

The guard is male and young, his mane barely developed while three others are camped under covers around the feeble campfire. Several bundles are stacked together. A significant load for four to haul across the country and I wonder, would they value their freedom more than the prizes?

--- Trusting Cloud POV

Scanning the horizon, the moonlight assists my task. Swift Spear should join us by the middle of the next day at the latest. The mysterious hunter returned to his tree once during daylight hours he or she would return at least twice or three times more depending upon their skill. All who claim the kill will want to add to their necklaces and announce their fame.

Sneaking a glance at her, Pleasant Voice stretches under her blanket and rolls to her side and joy swells in my heart. I am young, still, I will contest her for marriage, regardless of those who intend to dissuade me. Her wisdom alone a prize, Swift Spear challenged her, and she chose words to advise those willing to listen of a sounder choice while allowing him to believe he bested her. Three more days of slow travel and we will return to our tribal lands with numerous pelts and considerable salted meat.

I listen. A soft faint howling is upon the wind teasing me. I stand and slowly position my ears, flicking them forward, my ears seeking the source of the song and my head changing direction to home in on the source. The song is clear, and temptation develops as my ears gather its haunted offering. I wrap my arms around my body as the tune reaches for my soul, for my being.

It calls forth a memory of absolute joy, my mother wrestling me as a cub, I annoyed her while preparing a meal and she caught me. She doesn’t release me this time, enveloped in her arms, lifted from the ground and I am overcome by absolutes, safety, love and protection. A mother’s love bursts inside my chest, overflowing my heart with joy.

My mother calls to me in song. A promise to reunite with her, a promise as strong as a mother’s love. I don’t question how she has returned to the Long Grass Pride; I know as a certainty she lives; I know her death is a false memory.

“Mother …” I utter. I yearn for her, imagining our reunion after many years, her cub now an accomplished youth, a hunter of the Long Grass Pride.

Her song is pure and calls to me, the promise of happiness and joyful reunion merely a few steps away.

“Mother you’ve returned from the Happy Hunting Ground and your son Trusting Cloud welcomes you. Embrace me, Mother, I need your guidance.”

--- Aphrodite POV

My song taps into his emotion, his precious memories. I can’t determine which ones; I trust in the melody to discover his ultimate joy and his ultimate loss. This deep loss is the motivation to venture forth and seal it, recover it or heal it and answer my refrain in desperate hope seeking salvation. I descend from my roost as he approaches.

“Mother …” he sings to me.

This single spoken word shakes me to my core. It requires my absolute concentration and composure to continue my song. Hera’s gift enters my mind, marriage and motherhood, staying faithful. Am I a mother? Did I not birth First, Bucket One and Bucket Two? No, they were spawned or mutated somehow, I didn’t birth them as fruitful offspring from a marriage.

I recall Aphrodite’s gracious gift; Prolific Fertility surely ensuring a generous bounty from pregnancy. Perhaps this ability from her enabled my minions to spawn from the eggshell of my evolution, my rebirth. I am destined for marriage and to Mother the plentiful progeny birthed. My hands gently rub my abdomen in circles, my empty womb aches, eager to birth my children and therefore fulfil my destiny of motherhood.

“Mother you’ve returned from the Happy Hunting Ground and your son Trusting Cloud welcomes you. Embrace me, Mother, I need your guidance,” he calls and pleads to me.

My song ends abruptly as I am consumed by the idea of being a Mother. My stomach churns and aches, I swallow to keep myself from vomiting. I am not pleased as I am not in control. Is my new awakening punishing me? Motherhood is joyous is it not? My purpose echoes in my mind, Motherhood. There is an uncomfortable pressure on my bladder. I didn’t realise I possessed a bladder, well if I did, I certainly didn’t require it. With effort and control, I suppress my bladder’s urge to release.

With my threatening nausea and urge to urinate, I tire. I cannot discover the reason my body is changing.

“Mother …? Mother …?” he calls. I discern his bewilderment; he is lost now without my song deceiving him.

His petition reminds me though of a pre-destined inescapable truth, my reason for being – Motherhood. My certainty in this is absolute and I don’t comprehend why? I need to escape! I unfurl my wings and thrust them downwards to create the lift I need to fly and to my horror flee.

“Great One, where do you go? What is your will?”

I hear First, and the answers are unknown to me as my body reacts to the Lion Beast kin’s utterance of a single word, each repeat grips my body forcing uncontrollable change upon it.

“Take charge First, take care of my meal …”

---

My wing muscles ache, they are nearing their limit and with every downward thrust, my hunger grows. With my stomach empty, the urge to vomit fades and I am thankful for this small mercy. I glide on a fresh night breeze to rest, although regardless of my wingspan and skill I descend. I never gained enough altitude.

The Harpy nature within me craves food and forces me to hunt as my mind returns to baser instincts. My thoughts regarding Motherhood are suppressed by the beast nature within me. I glide in each direction scanning the brush and bush my keen eyesight assisted by the available moonlight. There is no plan. Many female deer and their young laying to sleep are crushed as I plummet upon them. Two are slain instantly under my talons, two more are throttled in the grip of my taloned hands, one a doe and the other a fawn.

The smell of their blood drives me to satisfy my ravenous hunger. I devour them heedless of the waste in my urgency, ripping and tearing their soft juicy flesh. The portions slide down my throat and are welcomed by my stomach. An emptiness no longer. I scream by instinct, the Harpy within unsatisfied, wanting more!

---

I pause, gazing upon the bloody remains of the fawn and doe. As I reach for one of the two does, slain under my talons, I wretch. I naturally swallow not releasing a single mouthful. The Harpy within me fights to keep what is mine, the Mother inside me returns with a vengeance as my stomach churns trying to empty its contents.

My hunger drives me and each moment I am not heaving, another bitesize of bloody flesh is pushed into my mouth. My consumption surpasses my tiredness and the instant after my stomach settles. Contemplating regaining my self-control I am disappointed. Mother isn’t hungry, although she craves flesh, while the Harpy inside of me revels in the agreement consequence.

---

My stomach distends as both sides of my nature finally agree to be sated. In a wide circle around me, blood is soaked into the ground and pasted across the low brush, glistening in the moonlight. Occasional shadows cast by torn off lumps of flesh, the sole remains of a now unidentifiable carcass. A discomfort awakens below my stomach, and I bend over to attempt to relieve the growing disquiet.

Others approach my feasting place now a scented blood bowl, I overhear them snarl, warning me away. They attempt to scavenge the remains of my kills, trying to claim what is mine. While I am finished with their flesh and bone, I will defend my slaughter and spread my clawed hands in preparation and defiance. Tensing my body aggravates my lower half and forces me to my knees, my splayed hands now preventing my face from kissing the blood and flesh churn beneath me, my savage creation.

A pressure builds needing release and so I change to a squat position, knees and legs parted as far as possible. A dark paste extrudes from between my bottom cheeks forming a peaked dollop. A pitiful whimpering howl sounds from multiple scavengers, particularly those downwind from me. They are gone when I urinate, the pressure from my engorged stomach and release of the dark paste combining to defeat my restraint.

The Harpy in me celebrates this final revelation and knowledge fills me, my waste is putrid and reviled by every creature except another Harpy. My harpy nature content, my mind returns to the word spoken by the Lion Beast kin, Mother. This part of me is disgusted with my surroundings and I step away from it, upwind.

Hera champions the sanctity of marriage. Aphrodite champions the abundance of progeny. For this single moment, Athena’s championing of wisdom seems the least demanding, although the most beneficial. The Goddess’ blessings have influenced Zeus’ design unexpectedly, the sole explanation. The very word Mother, spoken by an intelligent creature seeking his mother triggered a change within me. His quest true and pure as the Harpy song exploits an ultimate sorrow and joy both memories reaching for his mother.

I accept I am Mother and seek Motherhood.

{Discover Primary Purpose: Motherhood +25% Sentient Dominate.

Sequence Error, System generating anomaly report, correcting ...}

The alert passes quickly, something has gone astray, Zeus’ plan now altered by three Goddesses. In response a new pressure manifests, building within my breasts, they enlarge, the ring mail already taunt protests further. My nipples are beacons of pain, and I am on the edge of screaming when I utilise my scythe-like taloned fingers to shred the ring mail on either side of my chest, from armpit to waist. Relief washes over me.

As I step towards Motherhood my body now prepares for the pre-birth conditions, perhaps uniquely possible due to a Beast kin youth mourning his dead mother. I am sure my Creator would enjoy this diversion of Zeus’ intentions.

“First, I am returning, report!”

“Great One another followed, a female, armed with a long knife nothing else,” sends First.

“She was curious Great One, tracking the first not expecting a battle,” sends Bucket Two.

“Both Beast kin, are enthralled by Bucket One and Bucket Two Great One,” First proudly announces.

“Call me Mother from now on, not Great One, I must fulfil my new destiny.”

“Yes Mother!” my three minions reply.

---

I land from an effortless flight beside my loyal minion. I surveyed the situation from above, the young Beast kin male and female are standing swaying in bliss, enraptured as they listen to Bucket One and Bucket Two’s song.

“Neither are charmed to our service Mother and the other two still sleep,” reported First.

“Release the youth Beast kin Bucket One.”

The youth, due to instinct spreads his arms for balance and blinks. Before he recovers, I commence my song.

“Mother? I was lost and now I am found once again.” His cheeks expand, and his eyes soften in bliss.

I answer his call, in song, I am his Mother. As his Mother I don’t intend to slay him, my Harpy nature growls, as before me, stepping forward hesitantly is soft fresh flesh, youthful blood lured by Harpy Song to banquet upon. No! I suppress the monster and beast within, I am Mother he is mine to protect.

The conflict now decided within me I open my wings and with open arms, I draw him to me. My wings embrace us both and he is protected.

His tongue rasps against my chest, is this a Lion Beast kin's submissive behaviour?

“We kiss our entranced ones Mother to charm them to our service,” offered First.

“How did you know?”

“We knew when we hatched,” replied First, her scaled face twisting slightly, confused.

“Mother you granted me strength. As a cub I was made strong by you and now is no different.”

The Beast kin youth spoke, and I almost open my wings in shock.

“I lapped up your spilt milk while within your loving embrace, your Mother’s Milk. My strength grows with each drop.”

I realise I leak from my breasts, both of which, although swollen are now at peace. As I scrutinize my chest, his tongue waits below my nipples lapping up the white fluid seeping from them, his muzzle keeping the ring mail at bay. His meowing eyes capture mine.

“May I drink more Mother?”

I nod my head in acknowledgement and he latches on to my left nipple and drains my left breast. Is this sensation one of the joys of motherhood? My right breast is drained shortly after, although time is meaningless. They are both slow to refill and as if in answer to the question a hunger starts to grow in the pit of my stomach. There is no thought to slay my own, a Mother protects her young and my Harpy nature is finally in balance with Motherhood! My suckling of him the final piece to fall into place.

I observe the other possible meal, her heart pumping, blood racing within her body of fresh meat.

“Mother, I wish to contest her, win Pleasant Voice for marriage,” Trusting Cloud whispers.

I hold my position and stare down at him, grinding my teeth to resist my original intent as she is nothing to me.

“Please release her, I wish to contest her for marriage, Mother.”

Both sacred words were spoken, both a manifest influence upon me.

“How do you contest for Trusting Cloud?”

“We must wrestle until one is exhausted and submits. If I win, she is my betrothed. If I lose, I am banished from my tribe as being weak.”

“You are younger and although you are male, she is bigger and stronger. How do you intend to win?”

“I am the stronger for suckling on my Mother’s milk, I will not fail.”

“Bucket One please check on the sleeping ones. First, fly to the tree and remain hidden for now.”

Once they are positioned, I release my child from my embrace.

“Once released she will be dazed for a moment, so perhaps a steading embrace would help?” As his Mother I can’t deny him.

He reveals his teeth, nodding his head.

“Bucket Two release the female and join Bucket One.”

“Yes, Mother.”

As Trusting Cloud approaches and gently hugs Pleasant Voice, I retreat to the shadow of the tree to observe. A few moments pass and as she recovers, my Lion Beast kin child steps back releasing his embrace a heartbeat before her awareness returns, her blinking eyes steady as if waking from a dream.

“Pleasant Voice, Matriarch of the Long Grass Tribe I wish to contest you to prove I am worthy of betrothal.” Trusting Cloud issues his challenge strongly and firmly his intent is serious and clear. I am proud to be his Mother.

Pleasant Voice opens her mouth and then shuts it. Smiles and follows with a nervous laugh. Moments pass in silence, her face transforms into one more serious.

“You are too lowly and too young, you will lose, and nothing will change, a waste of your effort risking banishment!”

“Nevertheless, I wish to return as your betrothed or not at all. It is my choice, and I chose to take it now under a moonlight night.”

She rests her head to one side and snorts. “Foolhardy, misguided youth, I accept, and you will regret your banishment.”

Pleasant Voice stacks her knife, fighting claws, necklace and belt pouch at her feet. Trusting Cloud does the same, including his spear.

They face off under a moonlit night sky as he wished, an occasional cloud blocking the stars witnessing an age-old tradition of the Lion Beast kin.

“Bucket One and Bucket Two, place the two who sleep in thrall.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Trusting Cloud and Pleasant Voice crouch in a fighting stance, manoeuvring and circling neither committing.

“I need to sate my hunger once again, deliver them to me, although take care to hide their passing from Pleasant Voice, march them in a wide circle.”

“Your will be done, Mother.”

My hunger calls me, and I leave Pleasant Voice and Trusting Cloud to their dance as I wrap my dark wings about myself and use the shadows to intercept my living feast leaving First to observe the outcome.