forest green ● jason grace

ten

"Cheese," she muttered, looking sideways. "Ella doesn't like cheese."

Daria hesitated. "Your name is Ella?"

"Ella. Aella. 'Harpy.' In English. In Latin. Ella doesn't like cheese." She said all that without taking a breath or making eye contact. Her hands snatched at her hair, her burlap dress, the raindrops, whatever moved.

Quicker than Daria could blink, she lunged, snatched the cinnamon burrito, and appeared atop the elephant again.

"Gods, she's fast!" Hazel said.

"And heavily caffeinated," Daria guessed. Though she could relate to that. She wasn't going to judge.

Ella sniffed the burrito. She nibbled at the edge and shuddered from head to foot, cawing like she was dying. "Cinnamon is good," she pronounced. "Good for harpies. Yum."

She started to eat, but the bigger harpies swooped down. Before anyone could react, they began pummeling Ella with their wings, snatching at the burrito. 

Daria cursed. If she was a few seconds faster. She and her friends ran up to help but it was too late. A big yellow harpy grabbed the burrito and the whole flock scattered, leaving Ella cowering and shivering on top of the elephant.

Hazel touched the harpy's foot. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Ella poked her head out of her wings. She was still trembling. With her shoulders hunched, Daria could see the bleeding gash on her back where Phineas had hit her with the weed whacker. She picked at her feathers, pulling out tufts of plumage. "S-small Ella," she stuttered angrily. "W- weak Ella. No cinnamon for Ella. Only cheese."

Daria took it back. Fuck the other harpies.

Frank seemed to share her sentiments. He glared across the street, where the other harpies were sitting in a maple tree, tearing the burrito to shreds. "We'll get you something else," he promised.

"Ella," Percy said, setting down the noodles. "We want to be your friends. We can get you more food, but — "

"Friends," Ella said. "Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004.'" She glanced sideways at Percy, then looked in the air and started reciting to the clouds.

'"A half-blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds.' Sixteen. You're sixteen. Page sixteen, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. 'Ingredients: Bacon, Butter.'"

Daria's senses were on high alert. "That was a prophecy." She glanced at Percy who suddenly looked queasy. "Maybe it's something she heard Phineas say?"

At the name Phineas, Ella squawked in terror and flew away.

"Wait!" Daria called. "I didn't mean — Oh, gods, I'm stupid."

"It's all right." Frank pointed. "Look."

Ella wasn't moving as quickly now. She flapped her way to the top of a three-story red brick building and scuttled out of sight over the roof. A single red feather fluttered down to the street.

"You think that's her nest?" Frank squinted at the sign on the building. "Multnomah County Library?"

Hazel nodded. "Let's see if it's open."

They ran across the street and into the lobby.

Daria loved libraries. She loved to read poetry and was always begging whoever was in charge to bring more books to New Rome. It was something she took comfort in. 

Percy, apparently, not so much. Without warning, he slammed his fist into the side of a bookshelf. Daria grimaced. What was with everyone today? That would definitely get you a demerit at camp.