Albert woke up, but didn’t open his eyes. He was warm, and covered by the soft strands of what he knew was red hair. He turned over contentedly, letting a curl of it tangle around him as he buried his face in it. He breathed in deeply, enjoying Cyrene’s crisp alpine scent as it coated him.

He heard a yawn underneath him, and realized his movement across the top of her scalp must have awoken her. A massive clawed hand appeared above him, and he watched it lazily as it picked through her hair, looking for him. One finger brushed past him, and he turned over, watching it go. The movement instantly alerted that hand to his position, and with a sudden burst of movement it snatched him up, drawing him out of the nest of her crimson hair like a bird of prey catching a fleeing rabbit.

He was about to wish her good morning, but the hand drifted lower, past a pair of still closed eyes obscured by her bangs. Cyrene was shifting slightly, groaning as she slowly woke up. Albert’s eyes went wide as he suddenly rocketed towards her mouth, her lips parting to accept him like the bite sized morsel he was.

Cyrene loved simply lying in bed on a lazy day after waking, and this new nest she’d build in the tower’s keep was always so nice and warm. She’d felt something squirming around, and reflexively tossed it into her mouth. She prodded it with her tongue and frowned, not recognizing the taste, not a tasty mouse or chipmunk… and it didn’t have any fur?

Her eyes shot open, and a moment later she spat Albert out in a panic. The king panted in her palms, looking up at her in terror as her saliva dripped off him.

“Albert!” she said eagerly, “I’m so sorry! It’s just, usually when something is scurrying around the nest… well, there’s breakfast. Instinct, you know?”

“I-I’m fine,” he muttered, shivering as the air cooled the spit covering his body. She did her best to wipe him off, blushing as she did so.

“Should we go wake Meghan up?” Cyrene asked.

“Might as well,” he said with a sigh. “Do you have those clothes?”

“Oh yeah!” Cyrene said with a smile.

She glanced to the far end of the nest, where the harpy’s own clothes were piled haphazardly. Most of them were things she appeared to have fashioned herself, or perhaps taken off clotheslines and torn to fit her massive frame. Next to Cyrene’s clothing were a few small dolls, things that the knights had hauled out of the kingdom’s storage and which had likely belonged to some prince or princess long before he had been crowned.

The harpy walked over and picked up one of the dolls, holding it up to him as a comparison. The princess doll in the flowing pink gown was about a head taller than he was, made of porcelain, and expertly painted.

“What do you think of this one?” Cyrene asked cheerfully.

“Uh…” he looked over at the doll, “That one’s more for… female humans.”

Cyrene squinted at it a moment and then chuckled, “Well, she’d have a hard time flying or fighting in THAT!” She placed the princess doll back down, “I just thought the color looked nice,” she mused, picking up a more princely looking doll in a blue coat. “How about this one?”

“Perfect!” he said, standing up in her palm. He walked over and began pulling the clothing off the doll, donning the outfit and doing his best to ignore the coarse fabric. “How do I look?”

“Adorable!” Cyrene said with a smile. “Now, let’s get that wizard!”

She lifted him back up to her head, gently sliding him into the waiting perch of her hair, which he gripped to steady himself as she leaned over the side of the nest. Lifting the now stripped doll in her hand, she aimed, and then with a mischievous smile, dropped it.

Meghan felt something hit her head with a *thunk* and shot awake, “Wha-?” lightning danced on her fingers as she surveyed the room. She scowled as she heard a pair of giggles from above. Slowly she looked up at the nest in the rafters and scowled.

“It’s bad enough you two are keeping me prisoner up here!” She snapped, “you don’t need to wake me up by throwing things at me!”

“Dropping things on you,” Cyrene corrected, “If I’d thrown it, it would have hurt a lot more.”

“Also, you’re not a prisoner!” Albert called with a grin, poking out of Cyrene’s hair, “you’re a court wizard under a very restrictive contract!”

Meghan threw back the scratchy wool blanket that had been spared for her, it looked out of place on the spacious royal four poster bed, but the nicer bedding had all been torn to pieces long ago to line Cyrene’s nest. Attached to Meghan’s leg was a cast iron shackle, with a heavy chain that led to a massive iron ball.

With an angry look up at the two of them, she pointed at the chain and weight, “and what about this!?”

“I thought it was silly,” Cyrene said with a smile, “I wanted to keep you up here in the nest with us.”

Meghan swallowed, looking up at the harpy’s somewhat predatory grin, “the ball and chain is perfectly fair, I’m uh, sure once you trust me more, you’ll agree it’s not necessary!”

“Fat chance,” Albert muttered.

…

Albert was quickly finding he preferred holding court from the top of Cyrene’s head. It was probably something he wouldn’t be able to do as the court expanded of course, it made him look dreadfully silly he was sure, but he didn’t have any illusions that Sines, Meghan, or his two guards respected him anyways. That was fine, he really needed their obedience more than their loyalty at this point.

Cyrene seemed to enjoy the arrangement too, giggling slightly as he struggled to stay standing upright amidst her tangles of red hair. She shifted as she sat on the royal throne, nearly causing him to stumble over as his four “loyal” subjects filed in.

“All right,” he began, “status updates, Meghan, when will I be big enough to sit on my own throne again?”

“Pretty soon,” the mage began, “I’ve been in contact with a merchant in town who says the final ingredient I need, red moss, is being sold just a few miles away in Almsdale.” She glanced at the two knights, “If you won’t let me go pick it up myself, one of these two could do it.”

“Oh,” Sines said uncomfortably, “Well, your grace, we might not be able to reach Almsdale for some time.”

“What?” He exclaimed, “It’s not even a day’s walk from the castle town! You can see it from the ramparts even!”

Sines bit his lip, “Perhaps we should go up there and… see it?”

…

Albert gripped Cyrene’s hair tightly, his knuckles becoming white as he looked over the battlements of his castle. Almsdale could be seen in the rolling hills that led up to far away mountains. It wasn’t an impressive town, his eyes had slid over it a dozen times before, both before and after becoming king, but today the encampment of bandits around it made it draw his gaze like a magnet.

“As you can see, Brodda, the bandit leader, must have heard we are relatively defenseless,” Sines said weakly.

“Hmm…” Cyrene mused, “That’s a lot of humans Albert, and they put their tents all in those nice little rows, that usually means humans with guns who know how to use them.” She turned to the other four and grinned cheerfully, “It’s been really nice meeting you, and I’m going to miss having the tower nest, but I’m going to take Albert and fly back up to the mountains now, bye!”

“Wait!” he shouted as Cyrene spread her wings. She paused, folding her forewing back behind her hands as she listened.

“Can I come to the mountains too?” Meghan asked eagerly, “I don’t want to be in town when those guys take it-“

“Y-Your majesty!” Sines said in a panic. “You can’t just abandon the kingdom in its hour of need!”

“Well settle down, all of you, because I’m not,” the tiny man snapped. “This is actually a huge opportunity!” He pointed out to the encampment, “we need an army, and that’s an army right over there!”

“An enemy army,” Meghan muttered.

“Look,” Albert began, “these are bandits, desperate men. We had a big guy who kept robbing people on their way out of the mill once, Bernie, and finally the miller caught him one day and we offered him steady work instead of a trip to the town jail. He’s still working there today.”

“Your majesty,” Sines began, “while that surely holds true for some of them, do you really think they’ll simply join you if asked-“

“The thing about Bernie,” Albert said, continuing, “is that when the miller first caught him, three of us lads ran out with big sticks, and we beat the tar out of him first. It put him in a mood to reflect on things.”

“So, you want to beat up all those guys?” Cyrene asked, “I mean… it could take a long time with just the five of us, do humans do that orcish thing where they’ll let you fight them one at a time?”

“We don’t need to get them all,” Albert said, “If we can convince the leader to join up with us, the rest will follow. We just need to get him away from the others and apply a little… pressure.” He turned to the two knights, “I don’t suppose either of you studied under elven rangers, or assassins, or anything like that?”

One of the men chuckled, “your majesty, no offense, but if I studied under an elven ranger, do you think I’d be working here?”

“I’d just fly in and grab him,” Cyrene said, “but guns and harpies don’t mix, we don’t like getting shot.”

“Are there people who do?” Meghan asked, crossing her arms.

“Orcs,” Cyrene said casually, “they seem to think it’s fun.”

“Man,” Meghan said with a chuckle, “this whole thing would be solved if we had one of those around…”

Albert frowned, shifting on top of the harpy’s head he looked over to her, “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” the mage said, an embarrassed grin on her face, “you guys are going to think this is HILARIOUS, so you know that potion that accidentally made you…” she just pointed to his minute form.

“Yes?” he said, eyes narrowing.

“I did a little research to find out what went wrong. The potion was a recipe created by the dark wizard Almarec,” she explained, “a few centuries back when he tried to conquer the world.” She shrugged, “I was kind of wondering why nobody had ever used it up until now, I mean expanded power and invincibility sounds pretty neat right?”

“Right,” Albert said, frustration rising.

“Well,” Meghan laughed, “as it turns out, it was only ever meant for monsters and beastfolk! He used it to create his most powerful creatures, he never used it on humans!”

“Wow we know why,” Albert muttered angrily.

“Pretty much all of his magic is forbidden,” Meghan said, “very chaotic, unpredictable… I actually ripped the potion recipe out of one of his old tomes while I was… leaving the academy in a hurry.”

“You brewed that thing and let me drink it without even reading the rest of the page the instructions were written on?” He asked with a hiss.

“Look,” Meghan said, holding her hands up, “we both made mistakes there, but the important thing is, now we know the potion is ONLY for the creatures that flocked to the dark lord’s banner way back when.”

“Oh, like harpies!” Cyrene said excitedly, “we all hear the tale as chicks! Of Almarec the matchmaker, who promised us all the men we could want if we joined his armies!”

“That’s certainly an… alternative interpretation of the Dark Lord’s depredations,” Sines said.

“Wait a minute…” Albert said, thinking, “Meghan, do you still have the rest of that potion?”

…

Meghan held him in her clammy hands as his other three subjects stood back. Cyrene was regarding the potion curiously, sniffing it. Albert’s mouth was a thin line, this was a move of desperation, and although it had been his idea, seeing Cyrene with the mixture that had reduced him to inches tall made him suddenly nervous. It struck him very suddenly that Cyrene might be his only true friend in the world. She gave him a smile, and he sighed inwardly.

“Cyrene,” he said, quiet as he could while still being heard, “I’ve changed my mind, we aren’t going to do this.”

The harpy frowned, looking down at him, “Why not?” She asked, “it seems like the only option.”

“We could…” He sighed, “If it means losing you… maybe I’d rather just take you up on that offer to fly off into the mountains.”

“And me too!” Meghan said eagerly, “seriously, he’s tiny, you could carry both of us!”

Cyrene looked at the potion and frowned, “It’s really nice that you care about me Albert, I never thought a human would…” With one last grin at the two of them she downed the potion in a few gulps.

Her eyes shot open, her pupils dilating wide, “Wow,” she said excitedly, “this stuff feels great!”

“That’s a good sign,” Meghan said, stepping back as sparks danced along the harpy’s wings.

There was a sound of ripping cloth, and Albert blinked in shock as the harpy’s features began to expand before him. She groaned in pleasure, sighing as the woven top she wore tore away, splitting and falling to the ground like a leaf and exposing her pert breasts to the morning air. The loincloth tore away next, the laces holding it up making a twanging sound as they flew apart, revealing the red forest of her hair.

“O-Oh my,” Sines muttered, watching as the harpy’s height passed the top of the castle wall, then climbed higher still.

“YEAH!” Cyrene laughed, billowing her wings and causing a gust that almost blew Albert straight out of Meghan’s hands, “This is amazing!”

“She’s taller than the castle,” one of the knights said fearfully.

It was true, Cyrene easily stood at least a hundred twenty feet, with a wingspan that blocked out the sun when she spread her arms wide.

Albert watched; mouth open in awe. Cyrene seemed to notice the humans at her feet, and with a giggle knelt down to them. For the full-sized members of the court it was intimidating enough, but for him it was like watching a mountain approach him. That face, which had already been so much larger than he, was now its own landscape, a planetary surface almost hovering overhead. Even her breath alone could be felt for him, like a wind current threatening to suck him away, the merest movement of her body whipped his hair about.

“Albert?” She said, her voice echoing like thunder. Those massive blue eyes honed in on him, making him gulp as they focused, “You’re so teeny tiny!” she laughed, her voice booming overhead.

“IT WORKED!” Meghan said, jumping with excitement. Albert was startled, and he barely managed to stay in the mage’s hands. “I knew I didn’t mess up the potion! It was just the application that was wrong!”

“I daresay the odds have just shifted in our favor,” Sines said, his mouth agape.

…

Morwen hefted her sword in front of her, pacing the bandit camp’s makeshift arena as she waited for the three cowardly boys to attack her. With a shout the braver one charged her, and she casually parried his strike, slapping him across the back of the head as he tumbled by her.

“Too slow!” she shouted angrily, “you’d be dead if this wasn’t sparring!”

The other two ran at her, and she met the charge with a sweep of her leg. The other hesitated, and her sword darted out and quickly knocked his clean out of his hand. With a disappointed grunt, Morwen slid her sword into her scabbard, leaning down to help the boy up.

“You backed off when you should have struck at me,” she growled, “and now you’re both dead too.”

“S-Sorry Morwen,” one of them said, “b-but do we really need to practice swordplay so much? We’ve got the guns now and-“

“And the best man here can fire a shot every thirty seconds,” she growled, “a lot can happen in thirty seconds.”

With a scowl she walked away, idly scanning the camp for her next victims. A part of her felt a sense of satisfaction as the men seemed to scurry out of her way, but also of frustration. This was no proper force, even for bandits. Most of these men had never fought anything but their own friends after too many drinks. That the royal army had been foolish enough to abandon their firearms had been a massive boon, and although she’d wanted the men to continue working with their blades, she couldn’t help but feel a certain fascination with them herself. A large rifled gun was slung across her back now, and she’d found enough of the principles of archery translated to make her a deadly markswoman.

The guns were certainly nice, but Morwen had business with the real glue that was holding the rag tag army of bandits together, her brother.

“Brodda,” she said, entering his large command tent, “I want to know what your intentions are?”

Her brother looked up from the map he was studying and glanced over her. With her dark brown hair slick with sweat, and patches of dirt on her arms and face, it was obvious what she’d been doing.

“Beating up the recruits again?” He asked, turning back to the map.

“If they take enough beatings from me, maybe they’ll live through a real fight,” she snapped.

Brodda gave her one of his smug grins, “Not everyone here had an older brother to show them the ropes of swordplay.”

“Then maybe you could show some of your loyal followers those ropes?” She asked, crossing her arms. “None of them will do much for me, but if you told them to, they’d all line up and start drilling.

Brodda considered it, stroking that square jaw of his. He was a broad-shouldered burly type, the very sort of man that came to mind when one thought “bandit.” He shrugged finally, the smugness going away as he regarded his sister.

“I don’t see the point,” he replied, “By the end of the day tomorrow we’ll have taken the capital, or the cluster of hovels that passes for one anyway. After that? I think our force will scatter to the winds. We’ve got a few right bastards with us, every group this size does, but most of these men want to grab something to bring back to their wives and children, maybe something that will help them get through the winter or that they can bribe a border guard with.” He growled as he looked at the map, “we’re going too, Morwen.”

She frowned, “you’re just going to abandon the men who flocked to you?”

“There is an army of the undead heading for this kingdom,” he explained, “this entire realm is a sinking ship Morwen, all we can really do is try to help the people who followed us onto a lifeboat… and look out for ourselves of course.”

“The kingdom might have a fighting chance if Brodda the Beast would lead an army against the lich,” Morwen said angrily. “You could BE king if you wanted!”

He just laughed uproariously, “that bag of bones Chancellor Sines would have to send his men out to drag me to the throne if he wanted that!” He sighed, the laughter and smile fading, “I’ll do right by everyone that came this far with me, or as right as I can, but after that? Me and you Morwen, like always.” He looked wistfully at nothing a moment, “maybe we could settle somewhere with the money from plundering the capital… how do you feel about the ocean? I’d like to see it.”

Before she could answer a panicked man ran into the tent, “C-Captain!” he panted, “y-you’ve got to come quick!”

Brodda frowned, following the man out of the tent. He gave Morwen a quick gesture to follow him, which she obliged. If there was trouble, he’d want her close at hand, not for fear of losing her mind, but because when the two fought she was the hammer to his anvil, and always had been.

They quickly reached the edge of the camp, where dozens of confused men had gathered. Off in the distance, across the rolling green hills in the direction of the capital, a single scout ran, waving his hands in a panic. Brodda frowned, taking a spyglass from a running aide and unfurling it to take a look.

“HARPY!” the man shouted in the distance.

Brodda snorted, “A harpy?” He lowered the spyglass and glanced up at the clouds briefly, wondering where the man’s pursuer was. “Odd for them to fly this far from the mountains, but she probably just wants a roll in the hay with the poor boy.” He sighed, “Someone load up a musket, one shot and most harpies will scatter like-“

The men cried out in horror as a massive shape blotted out the sun, then dove for the running scout. Talons the size of an oxcart opened wide, snatching up the scout as though he were a fleeing mouse before a diving falcon. With the same terrible speed, a pair of immense shimmering red wings flapped once, and the thing was climbing into the sky once more.

There was a moment of shocked silence through the camp, then Brodda shouted, “TO ARMS!”

Bells clanged throughout the camp as men scattered, grabbing and loading their guns as quickly as they could.

…

One of the things that Albert had grown accustomed to in the days since shrinking was just how overwhelming to his senses other people could be. When he was seated in Cyrene’s hair at her normal size he would often be bathed in her earthy alpine scent. Now, at her giant size, her hair was a true forest to him. The flowing strands towered over his tiny size like some long-forgotten jungle. The harpy’s essence almost seemed to cloud his head, giving him a dreamy feeling even as the wind billowed around them.

“HOW ARE YOU SO CALM!?” Meghan screamed over the rushing wind.

The mage had him tightly gripped in her hand, her arms wrapped around a clump of Cyrene’s hair. Another loch was tied around her waist like a lifeline, something she’d insisted Cyrene do before agreeing to this in the first place.

“We’re going to be fine!” he shouted back. His stomach dropped as the harpy climbed overhead, and as she banked to her right, he gazed down at the bandit encampment. He gulped as he saw the view.

Cyrene laughed to herself at the human scout squirming in her talons. He wasn’t hurt, she’d been quite sure of that, but from the way he struggled in her grip he was terrified. She bit her lip as she flapped her wings, circling the camp below. It was mean, but she really wanted to have some fun.

“Oop!” she laughed, dropping the screaming scout.

He flailed in the air, terrified shrieks following him as she dove after her “released” prey. The scout’s panic grew as he saw her immense smiling mouth coming towards him. He was caught out of the air, and a tongue twice as large as he was scooped him up and began wrestling with him, easily pinning him into the harpy’s cheek. A low giggle rumbled from the dark abyss of her throat, and the scout almost fainted.

“P-Please!” He cried, “don’t eat me!”

The harpy’s mouth opened, letting the light shine in. The scout was propelled forward with immense force, her sticky saliva clinging to him as he plopped into her hand. He almost wept for joy, seeing that, even though he was this monster’s prisoner, she was standing on solid ground. Cyrene laughed at his reaction, and teasingly licked her lips, causing him to cower.

“It’s so much fun being this big!” she said, smiling wide as she peered at the bandit camp a few hundred yards away. “I do wonder what I’m going to eat at this size…” She gripped the scout’s pantleg, pinching it between her sharp claws as she lifted him, dangling him over her. She tilted her head back, causing Meghan to squeal with fright as she hugged Cyrene’s hair tighter. “You did taste pretty good,” Cyrene mused, “maybe I should eat… humans?”

“No!” the scout pleaded, “P-Please!”

“Well,” Cyrene said, “you’re kind of a scrawny one anyway. I could let you go, if you told me which one of those guys over there,” she jerked a thumb at the bandit encampment, “is your leader. Maybe I could get a human to eat with a little more meat on him?”

“Brodda!” The scout said quickly, “burly guy, brown hair, down to his neck, he’ll be shouting orders!”

Cyrene squinted at the camp, her keen avian eyes easily picking out the details of the men, even at this distance, “Does he have a scar on his cheek?” Cyrene asked.

“That’s him!” the scout said.

“Okay,” Cyrene said, kneeling down. She lowered the scout down to the grassy hill and smiled, “Sorry about that, but Albert says I should scare you guys a little.”

“A-Albert?” The scout asked, “Who’s Albert?”

“The king!” The giant harpy said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“H-he sounds great!” the scout said, a weak smile coming over his face, “All hail king Albert!”

“Wow!” Cyrene said excitedly, “his plan is working already!”

Those massive wings flapped, causing a gale that nearly knocked the scout over as she took off again.

…

“HERE SHE COMES!” Brodda yelled, leveling his musket as the titanic harpy bore down on their camp. “FIRE!” he shouted. Thunder bellowed as the hammers of their flintlocks sparked, and nearly a thousand men fired a volley into the monster.

“That tickles!” she giggled, shaking the earth as she landed in front of them.

The men panicked, scattering as they looked up into that amused face with fear.

“HOLD YOUR RANKS!” Morwen shouted, drawing her sword, “If you break, she’ll pick you off and gobble you up one by one!” Her own mouth was dry as she watched those massive avian talons take a step forward. Another round of musket fire echoed as the men held the line, and the harpy just giggled again, the lead pellets bouncing harmlessly off her thick feathers and skin.

“You guys!” she laughed, “Stop that!”

The talon lifted over them.

…

Meghan had reluctantly crawled to the edge of Cyrene’s head, holding Albert over the side so he could observe the “battle.”

“Remember!” he shouted, “Don’t kill anyone! We want these men to fight for us later! Just frighten them!”

Cyrene just laughed, causing whimpers of terror in the panicked mob below. Most harpies desired humans in a carnal sense, but generally didn’t care much for them, save for the few they kidnapped to start families with. Cyrene was a bit different; she’d always liked living close to human settlements, watching them scurry about doing the most interesting things, and she’d been delighted when Albert had confirmed that a human really could be your friend if you tried. 

Still, Cyrene was a harpy, and instinct ran deep. Harpies would describe themselves as playful, people unfortunate enough to live near large groups of them would prefer the term mischievous when being charitable, and maybe sadistic if they weren’t. Cyrene wouldn’t kill any of them, or even hurt them really, but she’d definitely enjoy toying with them.

“Now who should I pick for my next snack?” She teased, hovering her talon over the men. She flexed it slightly, then brushed it down into a crowd of soldiers, causing them to tumble over like dominos with the slightest flick of her foot.

“Oops,” she laughed. A few more stray shots bounced harmlessly off her cheeks, feeling almost like the pricks of a pine branch. Hovering her face over the humans pursed her lips, repeating an action she used to do to anthills in her youth. With a smile spat downward as hard as she could, watching it crash into the human line like a cannonball. A group of humans were drenched and knocked over, squirming on the ground in the puddle of her saliva.

“Cyrene!” Albert shouted as loud as he could, “I think they’ve got the message! Get the leader!”

She frowned, wanting to continue playing, “Well, you’re the king,” she said with a shrug.

Her talon lifted from the midst of the humans again, knocking another group aside as she reached for the burly man running and shouting orders.

“Try another volley!” Brodda shouted, waving his sword and running between the men, “Hold the line damn you-“

The talon snatched him off the ground easily, plucking him from the midst of his men before he even realized he was being hunted. He screamed, trying to slash at the scaly avian legs of the harpy, but from the way his sword impotently bounced off, they had to be as hard as steel.

“Brodda!” Morwen shouted, her eyes going wide.

The harpy was beginning to lift off again. She looked around in a panic, she couldn’t let that monster take her brother! There was a panicked horse, torn free from a hitching post, screeching and running around. With a grimace she reached out, grabbing the beast’s reins, calming it with a stern command as she climbed into the saddle. Digging her heels into the horse’s sides she took off after the enormous harpy.

…

Albert felt odd, standing in grass that was nearly as tall as he was. They’d flown maybe a mile away from the bandit camp, settling in on a hillside. Cyrene had reached into her hair and retrieved Meghan, who, still holding him, had immediately run for the bushes to puke. She’d had the decency to put him down, but now he was sighing, waiting for his court mage to finish.

“S-Sorry,” she moaned, standing up and wiping her mouth with her sleeve, “I don’t think that flying stuff is for me.”

She leaned over to pick him back up, and the two of them walked back to Cyrene, who held the swearing and struggling bandit leader trapped in her talons. The harpy’s toes were like a prison, holding him, squeezing him just enough that he couldn’t get free.

“So, you’re the famous Brodda,” Albert said. He struck a triumphant pose, well, as much as you could when a girl was carrying you in her hands.

“Yes, and who the hell are you?” he spat.

“I am King Albert the first, of Baldania,” he said imperiously.

Brodd stared a moment, “the new king is a gnome?”

Albert blinked, “No, I’m… gnomes don’t look like this!”

“Pixy maybe?” Brodda asked, eyes narrowing. “I don’t really know much about smallfolk-“

“I’m human!” he snapped, stamping his feet. Meghan giggled, which undercut the gesture even more, and he scowled. “My stature is temporarily… like this, due to…” he thought a moment, “royal plans beyond the comprehension of a mere bandit.”

“That right,” Brodda said, raising an eyebrow. Cyrene squeezed her talons around him once, causing him to wheeze before she relaxed them again, “Well,” the bandit grunted, “I guess I can’t argue with results.”

“Indeed,” Albert said, shooting a smiling glance up at Cyrene, who winked back down at him. “Now, I have this idea,” he began, “I was rather impressed by your men, they held even in the face of certain death, their loyalty to you and courage is admirable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brodda muttered, “Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting them all sent home so they don’t have to see me hang?”

“On the contrary,” He said with a smile, “I’m thinking that the kingdom needs men like that, and it needs a general to lead them.”

Brodda’s eyes went wide, then he laughed, “I refuse, go lead your toy soldiers yourself your majesty-“

“AHHHHH!” a female battle cry rang out. From the bushes a brunette woman sprung with a sword in hand, dashing towards them. She had a wild fury in her eyes, with tanned skin and arms and legs that told a tale of hours swinging a weapon.

“Behold!” Meghan shouted, making a gesture towards the charging woman, “the wrath of Meghan the mage!”

An impressive bolt of lightning sparked out of Meghan’s hands, impacting the woman with a thud as though it was two pieces of wood striking. The woman’s leather armor was blown straight off, staggering her and leaving her top half bare. Beneath a pair of impressive breasts, stitched scars crisscrossed across her body. With a growl she kept coming at Meghan, the smoldering remains of her armor singing the grass behind her.

“Oh shit,” Meghan muttered. The woman raised a sword and Meghan held Albert out to her in a panic, “take him! He’s the king! I’m just a servant!”

“Meghan!” Albert shouted angrily, but with a scowl the woman was already reaching for him, grimy fingers with dirt caked under the nails wrapped around him. He grunted as the warrior woman squeezed him tight, holding him up to the harpy.

“Is this your king!?” She snarled.

Cyrene froze, shifting from side to side and fluttering her wings nervously, “Let him go!” she warned, “or I’ll pulp this guy!”

“So, he is the king then!” The woman called, “I’m Morwen, and that there is my brother in your talons. Now listen up, you let him go and MAYBE I let his majesty go!”

“Meghan!” he rasped, “Zap her again!”

“Umm…” Megan looked up at the other woman, for a moment sparks danced on her fingers, and she shakily raised a hand.

“Wizard,” Morwen spat, “I’ve been taken apart and put back together more than enough times by your kind,” with her sword hand she gestured to the scars that crisscrossed her body, “your little experiments worked too well I fear, your mightiest magics are nothing more than bee stings to me.” She grinned savagely, “although if you throw another bolt at me… as I said, wizards took me apart, I wouldn’t mind a chance to return the favor.”

“Eeep!” Meghan squealed, “I defect! I’m joining the bandits!”

“Good girl,” Morwen laughed. Albert just sighed and rolled his eyes.

“M-Morwen,” Albert gasped as the dirty fingers coiled around him, tightening like massive snakes, “Your brother and I were just working out a deal!”

“A deal?” She laughed, looking up at the harpy again, “The deal is that Brodda and I walk out of here, with you as insurance!” She defiantly looked up at Cyrene’s angry gaze, “and then the big chicken here can bring us some gold for ransom!”

Cyrene’s talon shot up, and Morwen’s eyes went wide with fear as Brodda was tossed, screaming, into the air. Cyrene’s clawed hand came around and caught him just as he began to fall again, bringing the bandit leader up to her face. Brodda felt the harpy’s hot breath wash over him, and he shouted in fear again as that massive mouth opened.

“Mmmmm…” Cyrene groaned with faux pleasure as she ran a tongue up his side. “He’s sooooo tasty!” she teased.

Morwen went white, “I-If you do that I’ll…”

She looked at Albert, then back up to the harpy. With a growl she lifted her arm. Albert’s eyes went wide, and he shouted protests, but they went unheeded as the bandit pressed him into her armpit. He coughed and sputtered, the bristles of the low shorn hair scratching at his face as her stale sweat dripped over him and filled his mouth.

“I’ll drown your little king in my sweat harpy!” She shouted.

“You better not!” Cyrene shouted back.

With another defiant growl Morwen closed her arm against her side, sealing the squealing and protesting Albert into the sour and vinegary darkness. She let him squeal and scream a moment, feeling as though he really was about to drown in the salty tide she was giving off, then she lifted her arm, releasing him and letting he cough and sputter for air.

His hair was mussed, and he felt the grime of the brigand’s sweat soaked into all of his doll’s clothing. She smelled of earth and toil, and now he did too. What a way to go he though, almost laughing, drowned in a bandit’s sweaty armpit…

“M-Morwen!” Brodda shouted as Cyrene dangled him over her mouth again, “I’d like to talk with king Albert please!”

“Agreed!” He shouted as loud as he could, “B-Brodda and I should continue our negotiations!”

“Not until you let him go!” Morwen shouted.

“I swear if you put the king back in your disgusting armpit human, I’m treating this guy like a sunflower seed!” Cyrene said. She stomped closer to Morwen, causing the woman to back away nervously.

“Cyrene please-“ Albert started, but he was cut off as he was shoved into the sweaty pit once again, the bandits arm coming down and closing on him. He fought against her slick, muscular flesh, but it didn’t do any good, in fact it only seemed to tickle her a little.

“So that’s how it is” Cyrene said angrily.

“Morwen wait! I want to negoti-“ Brodda insisted, but like Albert he was cut off as the Harpy dropped him, catching him in her mouth. He tried to flip over, but a massive tongue seemed determined to keep him on his back, and against that wet and wriggling monstrosity he was helpless.

“Stop it!” Morwen shouted, fighting to keep her voice from cracking in panic, “I-I’ll…” She sighed, then held the dazed Albert up in front of her. With a grimace, she shoved him into her mouth.

“MMFFF” Cyrene mumbled angrily, her eyes going wide. She kept her lips pursed tightly to keep her own prisoner from escaping, but the look in her eyes communicated everything.

Albert pounded against Morwen’s tongue, “Stop this now! Brodda and I were just about to-“

Cyrene opened her mouth, letting Brodda get a look at sunlight, he hung over the side of the harpie’s lips, gasping for air as her saliva coated him.

“Morwen!” he cried, “just let the king go, we were going to-“ Cyrene pursed her lips and slurped the bandit leader back into her mouth like he was a noodle.

Morwen’s face burned red with fury, and as Cyrene looked down at her smugly, she lifted her head back, and with an exaggerated gulp, swallowed.

Albert felt himself suddenly pulled downward, saliva splashing him from all sides as the muscular tube of her throat closed around him, drawing him down with such force that he would have no chance of fighting it. He shouted and fought for air as he dropped into the wet pool of her stomach, and with horror realized that the objects floating around him in the darkness were the remains of her lunch… and he was only a snack.

Cyrene’s eyes went wide with horror, and in her surprise, she gulped reflexively, sending Brodda on the same journey Albert had taken only a moment before.

“LET ME OUT AT ONCE!” Albert shouted, pounding on the walls of Morwen’s stomach, “I-“ he stumbled in the fleshy dungeon, splashing down into a mix of water and half-digested food that came up to his neck when sitting. A primal terror began to set in for him, and he fought down a whimper.

Brodda wasn’t faring any better, though he at least had the fortune to land in an empty stomach. With a snarl he slashed at the walls with a knife he’d hidden in his boot, but the thick leather walls of a harpy’s gullet were meant for more formidable, and occasionally live prey. The blade bounced off harmlessly. It was quickly dawning on him as well that there was no escape.

“Y-You both ate them,” Meghan said, looking back and forth between the bandit and the giant harpy. “Oh gods, this is bad…”

“I-I didn’t mean to!” Cyrene said, “This is her fault!”

“My fault!?” Morwen roared, “if you’d just given me my brother-“

“Are they still alive?” Meghan asked, interrupting them.

“He’s still… moving,” Morwen said uncomfortably.

“Same here,” Cyrene said.

“Uh, well I think you both know what you need to do!” Meghan said in frustration.

“What?” Morwen asked blankly.

Meghan rolled her eyes, “Well, don’t use that bush over there, because I already puked on it.”

…

Albert lay in the grass, staring at the clouds going by in silence. Morwen’s sweat and stomach juices completely covered him, even as the giant, to him anyway, brigand stood over him in quiet embarrassment.

Brodda was laying in the grass a few feet away from him, the full-sized man in a similar state, covered in the harpy’s spit and stomach juices. Cyrene gave him shade as she loomed overhead.

Meghan sat between the two of them, uncomfortably fidgeting with her fingernails, “I think we can all agree,” she said finally, “that the uh, negotiations, went a little sideways.”

“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze court wizard,” Albert said flatly, not taking his eyes off the puffy clouds overhead. “Brodda,” He began, “I propose that, in exchange for a full pardon from the crown for you, and all of your followers, you lead my armies in battle against the lich Ponteforus. I can also throw in a royal title and an estate when the matter is dealt with.”

“I accept,” Brodda said in an equally flat tone. Without moving his head his eyes glanced up at the harpy, “Truly your majesty is a wise and benevolent ruler.”

“Okay now you’re just being a kiss ass,” he laughed.

Brodda returned the laugh, “Fuck me,” he muttered, “I guess I’m on the side of angels now. With my liege’s permission, I’d like to go and clean myself up before presenting myself at your castle.”

“Granted,” he said, “I also need to… clean myself up.”

Meghan leaned down to pick up the tiny king, plucking him by the arm and holding him away from her face. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she looked at the grim coating him.

“Ugh, Al, you reek!”

“Do I?” He asked, annoyed, “I hadn’t noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Morwen said, biting her lip, “I was… I was just trying to help my brother, he’s all I have and-“

“Morwen,” he said, cutting her off, “It’s fine, let’s just… try to move past it.” He looked at the woman, his eyes involuntarily tracing down to her taut stomach, crisscrossed with scars. He shuddered, remembering his imprisonment.

Brodda and Morwen watched as the harpy reached down for the mage, who in turn was holding the tiny king in her hand as she was lifted to the giantess’s flowing red hair. She nestled her passengers in it before smiling down to the two former bandits.

“I’m really glad you guys decided to team up with us!” Cyrene said eagerly, “Tell everyone back at your camp I’m sorry if I scared them, we’re all on the same side now!” She flapped her wings, causing a gale that blew back their hair and made them struggle on their feet as she took off.

The two watched her fly away in silence for a moment, “Is this a wise course of action?” Morwen asked finally.

“An hour ago, you were all ‘fight the lich Brodda, fight the Lich!’ and now…” He scowled, “now I’m fighting the gods-damned lich, if anything you should be happy, you got what you wanted!”

“Are we going to hold our end of the deal?” Morwen asked nervously.

“I think he’s got me over a barrel, or rather a giant mouth,” Brodda replied, “and besides, I kind of like the little guy.”

Morwen’s face went red as she had another realization, “That tiny fellow really is going to be the king, isn’t he?” She buried her face in her hands, “I stuck the king in my armpit…”

“You didn’t stop there,” Brodda chuckled. “How did he taste?”

“Like my armpit,” She groaned. “He seems pretty forgiving right? I mean… you don’t think he’ll hold a grudge?”

“Maybe you should bring him flowers or something?” Brodda said with a shrug.

…

With the bandits pacified Cyrene had flown directly into the town square and landed triumphantly, scattering and scaring what few townspeople weren’t in hiding from the formerly impending attack. The harpy had lowered Meghan, and the mage’s tiny passenger, down to the street to search out the merchant.

“This is the guy,” Meghan said, pushing the apothecary door open, “he’s supposed to have that ingredient I need to fix you right up and… oh,” she looked around the deserted and apparently ransacked shop. Merchandise was toppled and sprawled on the floor, carts and shelves were overturned, and there was a hastily scrawled note nailed to the counter.

“In light of bandit incursion,” Albert read, “I have decided to temporarily relocate my business across the border in the Empire…” He sighed, “I’m guessing none of the stuff he left is what you need?”

“Er… no,” Meghan said quietly, glancing around. She was quiet a moment, “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“You know something?” he said, sitting down in her cupped hands, “I think… I think I’m okay with this.”

“Really?” She asked uncertainly.

“We’ll get it fixed eventually,” he sighed, “and we had some victories today, let’s not let this foul our moods.”

Meghan glanced at a nearby shelf and smiled, “Well… I do see SOMETHING you need at least…”

…

Cyrene carried them up through the mountains, the castle, town, and bandit camp vanishing below them as she flapped those massive wings, scattering clouds before them. Meghan held him close, squeezing her eyes shut in fear. Albert just looked in awe at the world beyond the silky red forest of the harpy’s hair, the houses and farms below looked like toys, so far away…

“This should do it,” Cyrene said, settling in on a rocky clifftop. “Just through here, come on!” She waded through a thick forest of trees that came up to her waist, and, Albert in hand, Meghan followed her. A few hundred feet beyond the cliff’s edge was a bubbling lake of water, vast enough that Cyrene, even as a giant, was able to wade into it with a sigh.

“Come on in!” she called, “it’s a hot spring!”

“This is amazing,” Albert breathed, looking at the bubbling lake, “How come I’ve never heard of this place?”

“Judging by all the rocks and cliffs she flew over to get here?” Meghan said, looking back over the view, “It’s probably just too hard for anyone without wings to reach it.”

Meghan kicked off her boots, relishing the feel of the muddy moss squishing beneath her toes. Solid ground was something she had a renewed appreciation for after spending the day flying around with the harpy. She undid the lace on her robe, letting it fall to the ground, revealing her pale cotton undergarments. She smirked as she saw the king spare a glance at her, and holding him away from her so he could get a good view, she undid her brassiere. Her nipples quickly went stiff in the cold mountain air, and she shivered even as she kicked off her panties, revealing a small patch of brown hair between her legs.

“One last thing,” she said with a smile, taking off the thick glasses she always wore. She placed them on the pile of her clothes, and pulled up the small velvet satchel she’d taken from the abandoned apothecary.

“You should undress Albert too,” Cyrene called, causing water to well around Meghan’s feet as she waded closer to the shore. The lake must have been deep near the center, because as the harpy knelt down in the water, she was able to submerge herself up to her neck.  It was harder closer to shore, and Cyrene spread herself out, floating slightly on her stomach as she watched them.

“I can do it myse-“ he started, but Meghan was already giggling and pulling at the soaked and grimy doll’s clothing.

“Stop struggling!” she laughed, pulling his pants loose next. The doll clothing was always just a little too loose for him, and it came loose easily as the mage tugged at it.

“I don’t understand why humans are so hung up on clothes anyway,” Cyrene said, tilting her head as she watched, “I only started wearing them because I was living close to you guys, and it seemed like what everyone else was doing.”

Meghan waded into the warm and bubbling water, the slight mist of the hot spring enveloping them like a humid blanket. She sighed as she reached a point where the water was just up past her breasts, holding Albert aloft to keep him out of the water. She squealed suddenly as a harpy’s claw wrapped around her lower half, drawing her further into the steaming lake.

“What did you grab from the store?” Cyrene asked. She held her palm just below the surface of the water so Meghan could stand on it, those red feathers of her wings shimmering beneath the rippling water like some long-forgotten treasure.

“Soap,” Meghan said, gesturing to Albert, “this guy stinks!” She opened the small velvet bag she’d taken, revealing a purple bar. “This looks like the good stuff,” she said, “imported from the Imperial capital! Since you’re a king now you should probably be washing like one.”

“I’ve never had a bath with anything but lye soap my entire life,” Albert laughed, “my skin won’t peel for using it the rest.”

“Ooh!” Cyrene called down excitedly, “Sometimes my sisters would steal that stuff from merchant caravans! It’s really nice Albert, it makes you smell so good!”

He was about to respond, but Meghan’s hand dipped below the water, shocking him and bathing him in the warm lake. He coughed and sputtered as she brought him back up, and with a grin she dunked him  again, her fingers gripping him tightly as she swished him back and forth. The warmth of the water did feel good, and he felt his body go limp as he relaxed, his arms dangling back and forth as the giant woman soaked him.

He gasped for air as she brought him back up, his hair sticking to his face as the giant mage and the even larger harpy giggled down at him. The purple bar of soap came down on him, larger than his entire body, and he was slathered in the lilac smelling soap as Meghan roughly shoved it into him.

“Get every nook and cranny!” Cyrene called encouragingly, “I’m too big to bathe him properly!”

“I-I can bathe myself!” he protested, fighting against the unyielding bar of soap.

“No way!” Cyrene said with a laugh, “everyone knows when a harpy is looking out for a human, she’s got to make sure he’s bathed properly!”

“Really?” Meghan asked, continuing to scrub the struggling king. “That’s an odd thing for a monster to be worried about… no offense.”

“Of course,” Cyrene said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “I mean… a lot of my sisters just kind of take humans, but you can’t take something and not take care of it!” She shrugged, “I’m kind of taking care of Albert now, so I figured I’d just help him out with things like that too.”

Albert grunted as Meghan’s fingers ran over his body, rubbing soap suds in. The mage’s powerful fingers gently massaged his muscles, pressing with ungodly strength and seeming to force apart muscle knots and tension he didn’t even know he had. If Meghan was aware of the effect she was having on him, she didn’t give any indication, simply continuing to scrub. She froze as her finger traced over his groin, a slow smile crossing her face as she felt an erection hiding by the bubbling suds.

“It seems the king is enjoying bath time,” Meghan said playfully. Her finger went traced back, circling his crotch and causing him to writhe with pleasure as she rubbed against his slick skin.

“That’s another thing we usually take care of for the humans we take,” Cyrene said, looking down with a smile, “It makes humans so much more relaxed when you deal with THAT regularly.” She frowned, looking down at the mage, “You know Meghan, a lot of harpies keep a human woman or two around, nest-wives they’re called, you seem to get along well with Albert…”

Meghan gulped, looking up at the giant harpy, “I uhh…” she looked down to the tiny king, “I’d better finish cleaning this guy off!” she said quickly. Her finger picked up it’s pace, causing Albert to swear as pleasure rocked his body.

“That’s it!” Cyrene encouraged, “Come on Albert, relax! Remember what I keep telling you about letting yourself get too stressed!”

As the mage continued her movements, Albert squirmed against that impossibly strong grip. It felt spectacular, but it also reminded him that, even to a petite woman like the court mage, he could be easily overpowered. He doubted she even noticed his struggles as her giant face came closer, the warm air of her breath flowing over his soapy body.

Somehow, the helplessness made it more intoxicating, and he found himself gripping her thumb and trying to force it off him, not out of a desire to free himself, but just to hear the sound of her playful laugh as she gripped him harder. Meghan seemed to pick up on it, and slowed her movements, deliberately leaving him on the edge of orgasm while he looked to her pleadingly.

“I’ll finish if you beg for it,” Meghan said, licking her lips.

“What!?” he looked up in a panic at Cyrene, who just smiled wider.

“You better do it Albert,” the harpy said, “you’re a caught fieldmouse!”

“K-Kings don’t beg!” he insisted, he hadn’t been a king for long, but he felt like he should at least try to maintain the crown’s dignity.

“Consider this a coup,” Meghan laughed, “come on Albert, beg us,” she grinned up at the giant harpy, who, from the look she returned, had clearly picked a side in this battle of wills. “Better yet, tell me I can run the kingdom, tell me I can sit on the throne!”

“NEVER!” he shouted, fiercer than he intended, but he was having trouble controlling his voice as the mage’s fingers continued to tease his manhood. The lilac scent of the soap permeated his senses, giving him a light head as she kept going, slowly, never letting him near the edge.

“I’m going to sit on the throne,” Meghan repeated, “and…” she thought a moment, then a smile lit up her face, “You’re right Albert, why don’t we share it?”

“S-Share it?” he wheezed.

“Yeah,” she said casually, “I’ll put you on it, then I’ll sit down.” Cyrene and Meghan laughed at his expression, “That’s it, that’s exactly what we’ll do!” she said, “I’ll just hold court like that, they’ll start saying beneath every great queen is a great king.”

“Just give up Albert!” Cyrene said with a smug grin, “if you do, I’ll let you sleep in my hair tonight.”

“Y-You always do!” he shouted in confusion.

“Not THAT hair,” Cyrene chuckled, tracing her free hand down her chest, ending with a finger pointing down below the water.

“Gods above,” he muttered, his eyes going wide.

“More like below,” Meghan teased. “Last chance Albert, beg me to cum and say I can sit on the throne.”

He looked up at the teasing goddesses, knowing he was completely helpless before them… but, this was HIS crown, he put up with all the nonsense that had come with it, and he had a persistent fear it would be his head that rolled if his plans failed.

“NO!” he shouted defiantly, a smile crossing his face, “I’m the king! Now, I order you court mage, finish me off!”

Meghan’s eyes went wide, “Damn,” she laughed, “yes, your majesty!” her fingers picked up speed, rapidly causing Albert to convulse as he shot his seed across the giant mage’s soapy fingers. She kept going, casually whisking his cum away and filling the void with more soap until he collapsed in a heap, completely spent.

“That was impressive,” Cyrene said, looking down at them, “I was sure you were going to give up Albert.”

“Not today,” he panted, “also Meghan, stop trying to betray the crown.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, looking away in embarrassment, “that’s… fair I guess.”

“Next time you get punished,” he said sternly.

“Y-You wouldn’t have my head chopped off, would you?” Meghan asked fearfully.

“I don’t think I’m the head-chopping kind of king,” he muttered, “and I’m not letting go of you for some time yet, come hell or high water… BUT,” he glanced up at Cyrene, who winked at him, “I’m sure my queen-to-be can figure out something.”

“Q-Queen to be?” Cyrene gasped happily, “D-Do you mean you want to…” she gulped, “M-Marry me?”

“If you can stomach the thought of being married to a doll sized king,” he laughed.

“Oh Albert!” She squealed. She grabbed Meghan up, causing the mage to grunt in surprise as she struggled to keep a grip on him. The pair were squeezed against Cyrene’s cheek as she cooed excitedly. “This is so crazy!” the harpy laughed, “a man asking a harpy for marriage! It’s okay though, I’m pretty open minded.”

“I don’t want to spoil the moment,” Meghan grunted, squeezed tightly in Cyrene’s fist, “b-but will there be any complications about making a monster queen?”

“At this point, if anyone has anything to say about it, I might become the head-chopping kind of king,” Albert said darkly. His expression brightened, “besides, I’ve got an army now, I can do whatever I want.”

“Oh wow,” Cyrene giggled, “I can’t believe it… Albert, I know human courting might be a bit different, but… I’m going to try to catch you some rabbits, and maybe find some shiny ribbons or something to give you. I know it seems late, but I just don’t feel right about marrying a man without giving him the right gifts first…” she thought a moment, “do you like sunflower seeds?”

“I love them,” he laughed, “but you might find your usual foraging methods more difficult at that size.”

Cyrene blinked, there was a flash of light, then a moment later he and Meghan were tumbling through the air, screaming. They met the water with a splash, both of them struggling and sputtering at the shock of the warm water filling their lungs. Albert surfaced, the ripples and waves of the hot spring like a roaring ocean at his tiny size. He collapsed with relief as Meghan picked him up, treading water even as she panicked, looking around in shock.

“Sorry,” Cyrene said, wading up to them at her normal eight foot stature, “I should have put you guys in the water first.”

“Y-You can change your size?” Meghan asked incredulously.

“I think so,” Cyrene said obliviously, “did you not know the potion would let me do that?”

“N-No,” Meghan said nervously, “I only have the ingredients page and a little bit of the dark lord’s notes.”

“It’s weird,” Cyrene explained, “like a muscle I didn’t know I had, I just sort of… made it move, and then boom, I was back to normal!” She smiled, “I think I can get big whenever I want!”

“Can I change my size at will too?” Albert asked eagerly. He grunted, concentrating with all his might… but nothing happened.

Meghan fought a laugh at his expression, “Don’t hurt yourself your majesty, don’t worry, your super loyal court mage will fix you right up… one of these days, seriously, I swear.”

Albert sighed, “let’s just try to enjoy the hot spring before we’ve got to go back to the castle, I’m sure Sines is going to tell us the lich is building a doomsday machine, or the dragon has burned all the harvest corn, but that can wait until tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me, fiancé,” Cyrene giggled, wading over to them. She regarded Meghan again, “you know, with Albert and me getting married, I’m really going to have to consider the nest-wives matter more thoroughly…”

Meghan suddenly felt very much like a rabbit, watching the shadow of a hawk pass overhead.