The little gorgon

The next ten minutes was pure chaos. The news that Patch brought a demon back to the hollow spread quickly and everyone fancied a look. Runt, who wanted nothing more than to leave, found that every exit was crammed full of harpies trying to sneak a peek at the newcomer. The great teacher, a small, grey, wrinkled harpy who seemed to be in charge, yelled at everyone to leave the hollow but, instead, more and more heads wedged into the holes. Hundreds of eyes now looked down upon them.

Patch, meanwhile, was arguing with the great teacher.

“…and you said, over and over, that if we were ever to find a gorgon joey by the fey-trees, looking lost and alone, that we were to bring the gorgon joey back here to the great mother tree.”

“Yes, but this is not a gorgon. Have you never seen a demon before?”

“Yes!” Patch answered hotly, “Well, sort of. From a long way away. In the dark. But this is definitely a gorgon. Observe!” The little harpy pointed to Runt’s pouch.

“A pouch! Where it keeps the fruit of the mother tree. When I met the gorgon it offered me some fruit, not knowing that we harpies eat only stardust and nothing else. But the gorgons eat fruit, as does this one.”

This evidence was met with a chorus of oohs and aahs from the crowd of harpies. Patch, emboldened, pushed on.

“Observe! The gorgon has no wings.” Here, the harpy lifted one of Runt’s arms. The boy blushed and let it fall back, limply. “As we all know, the gorgon cannot fly. I saw this for myself when the poor creature nearly fell from the mother tree while it was collecting fruit. Which leads me to my last point. While hanging upside down, I noticed – ”

“Enough!” barked the teacher. “You there, stand up!”

Runt stood but looked down at his feet. Even though he towered over the nearby harpies he felt tiny and insecure. He was back in the kennels again, being yelled at by the boss, accused and punished for things out of his control.

“Tell them. Tell this little harpy. Stop lying and tell us what you are.”

Runt wished he could disappear.

“I didn’t lie,” he mumbled, “but the teacher is right. I’m not a gorgon. But I’m not a demon either. I’m a human, a human boy.”

The crowd gasped. Patch looked up with wide eyes and took several steps back. The little harpy looked from Runt, to the teacher, and back.

“You’re a… demon?” Patch said, with tears welling up in the harpy’s eyes.

“I’m not a demon, whatever that is. I said I’m a human.”

The room was silent apart from a small, bitter laugh from the teacher, and a quiet sob from Patch.

“We know what you call yourselves,” the teacher replied, “but to us, you are demons. We learned it the hard way. The word human means oath breaker, thief, and murderer.”

“But I’m none of those things!” Runt yelled, feeling his face blush hot. “Patch, don’t listen to them. I’m not like that.”

“What?” the teacher said sharply, spinning around. “What did the demon call you, harpy?”

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“I call this one Patch because of the mark over their eye. What’s wrong with that?”

“Harpies!” the teacher said in a booming voice that did not match its tiny size, “listen and learn. When a demon sees a thing, it names it, and it says, ‘Now this thing is mine.’ When the demons came, did they ask us for the name of this land? No! They planted a flag, and said ‘we name this place Demon’s Land, and it belongs to us.’ They named this land and then they took it.”

“Wait, they took this land from you? You were here first?”

“Ah, observe the thoughts of a demon. Harpies did not own this land. Land cannot be owned. But demons named it and took it, anyway. They named the mountains and dug up the dragon’s bones. They named the forest and cut down the trees. Listen to me, harpies: Do not suffer to be named by a demon thief. They will make you a slave.”

“No! You’re wrong. That’s not why I did that!”

“Tell me, demon thief,” the teacher continued, “tell me the name of the wolf that sleeps at the feet of our great mother tree.”

“His name is Stripes. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

“And who does Stripes belong to?”

“Well, I mean, he’s mine. He’s my dog. What’s wrong with that?”

Gasps from the onlookers echoed up and down the trunk. The teacher merely nodded.

“And so we see the nature of the demon thieves that name things and claim them as their own. That wolf is a person. You claim to own a person. That makes the wolf your slave.”

Runt shook his head furiously. He would never own a slave, never!

“Very well, demon. Answer this. You wander through the Wilds until, one day, your wolf slave stops. It finds a friend, another wolf, and sits, and asks to stay. Do you let it? Do you let your slave be free?”

Runt felt his eyes grow hot and damp as he pictured the image of Stripes walking away from him, into the shadows, beside another wolf.

“I – I don’t – he’s my friend! He’s my only friend! But –“ he paused, and thought about wolf pups, and visiting Stripes in his new home, and meeting his friends, “but, yes. If he chose to leave, I wouldn’t stop him. But I would dearly miss his friendship.”

The trunk echoed now with a collective sigh and many of the harpies nodded or murmured to each other.

“Hmpf,” the teacher grumped, “demons will say anything to please their enemies. But you answered well, demon thief. Only time will tell if you are true to your word.”

“I’m not a liar,” Runt shot back, “and I’m no thief, either.”

“Ahhh, is that so? Tell me, from where did the cloth come from to make your clothes? From where did the wood come from to make your house? From where did the fruits come from to make your food? Demons steal without thinking because it is in their nature to steal. To a demon, stealing is as natural as breathing.”

“Not me!” Runt said hotly, “I left. I live out in the Wilds, now. I don’t do any of those things.”

“You ran away? A coward’s act, nothing more. A decent person would stay and try to make things right.”

“I can’t go back,” Runt said, thinking of Gunther, and Tyron, and the troopers, and the secrets he knew, “but I want to make things right, I really do. Only, I’m so small. I’m just a kid. What could I possibly do to help?”

The harpy’s eyes glittered in the eerie light of the hollow and its lips formed a crafty smile.

“I’m so glad you asked.”

The harpies resumed their grooming after Runt was sent away. Pollen began drifting down into the wide cauldron at the base of the hollow once again. The teacher sat by it, swirling the contents, staring into the glowing bowl thoughtfully. Somewhere behind, it heard the quiet noises of a little harpy trying to edge towards an exit.

“Little harpy?” the teacher said gruffly.

“Ah, yes, greatest and wisest teacher?”

“You are to follow the demon as… a punishment. You must follow him but stay hidden. Watch what he does. Make sure he tells the truth. Oh, and harpy?”

“Yes great teacher?”

“Don’t bring any more gorgons back unless they actually are gorgons, hm?”