“What did I say?” Chas said in a hushed voice, “Stay away from him!” He pulled his younger brother away and yanked on his elbow to sit back down on the wet wooden floorboards.

“Peyton? But why? He seems harmless enough,” Peter said, rubbing his nose with his dirty sleeve, “and he’s got bread. Look!”

The bearded man sat only a few feet away from them, keeping to himself as he had done the entire trip. Leaning against a barrel, he bit a chunk out of the stale chunk of bread in his hand, breadcrumbs tangling into his wiry ash-grey beard.

Chas tightened his grip on his brother’s arm. “He’s dangerous. He’s the one who killed his wife and kids - four little girls - all found dead in their beds, throats slit. And they say it’s he who done it.”

“Who do?” Peter asked with a frown.

Chas nodded to the other men on deck. “They do.”

A group of men towards the far end of the ship started shouting raucously. One whooped and threw his hat in the air. Others cheered. “Land ahoy!” shouted someone from up above them.

The boys ran to the railings, along with everyone else on deck, to behold the most beautiful sight they thought they may never see again. Land. *Land!*

Chas put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “We made it, Peter! We…” Chas began, but his sense of relief was cut short.

An enormous shadow suddenly loomed over them as something large swooped over their heads.

Chas pushed Peter to the ground as shouts of panic broke out on board. Lying over his brother, who was prone on the floor, Chas dared to lift his head to see what was happening. He sucked in a stifled cry and froze in place.

There before him was a winged beast hovering in mid-air. It was huge - human-sized, with the body of a bird. But its face - well, its pale face spoke of terror and evil. It was the stuff of nightmares.

The beast sneered as its huge, razor-like claws dug into the Peyton’s shoulders and dragged him up and away towards the shore. Chas’s breath shuddered as his mind fought to make sense of what he’s just witnessed.

“Harpies!” one of the men screamed as he ran past them, hands covering his head. “Save yourselves! Harpies!”

Indeed, Chas could now see three other Harpies attacking others on deck. They all seemed hell-bent on grabbing only specific people though. And each speared their prey with their huge talons through the shoulders, before carrying them off across the sea to the island in the distance.

Chas waited until the beasts had gone before he rolled off his brother. “It’s ok," he said, taking his brother’s hand, “they’re gone now. They’re gone.”

Chas looked around him. Everywhere, men were lying on the ground and moaning. At the very best, they were injured, but many were dead. He rose to his feet and leaned on the railing, focusing his eyes on the harbor on the horizon.

The harbor had held such hope, not just for the boys, but for all on board. And there it finally was, in all its glory. But it wasn’t the tropical bustling harbor they had expected.

No, this harbor was shrouded in gloom. Grey storm clouds hung overhead. And circling just below those clouds were at least a hundred harpies. An army of them.

“Wh - What are they?” Peter asked through stifled sobs, clutching at Chas’ sleeve.

“The men called them ‘Harpies’. Whatever they are.” Chas replied, his tone sober. He had no idea what these so-called Harpies were.

For one, they seemed to be harbingers of doom. For it was then that Chas realized, that their arduous journey had only just begun. The countless weeks at sea had been a cakewalk. Now, the challenge to surpass the impossible had begun.

Chas gripped his little brother’s hand even more tightly. They’d gotten this far. They could get past the beasts. Who notices a couple of ragged, scrawny little boys anyway?

At least, that’s what he would have to bank on. Because Chas had no choice but to gamble their lives away on that very hope. They *had* to survive.