Flight of the Golden Harpy by Susan Klaus

and it is no life for people like you and me.”
    Charlie rose and left the fire. “It grows late. I will take the tent, and you, the vehicle.”
    “Good night, Charlie,” she said, climbing into the comfortable vehicle bed. Exhausted from the lack of sleep on the previous night, she quickly fell asleep.
    *   *   *
    The golden harpy nuzzled her until she lifted her head. She stroked the silky hair hanging against his face. He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand. “Do you have a name?” she asked, using her subconscious instead of her voice.
    “I am Shail,” he answered with his animal telepathy.
    “Why do you come to me, Shail?” she asked.
    He pulled back and stared at her in confusion. “As I am yours, you are mine. This was always meant to be,” he related. He leaned over and tenderly kissed her lips before rising to a kneeling position.
    “Don’t go,” she conveyed. “There is so much I want to know about you.”
    He tilted his head, perplexed. “You know. The light comes. It is time.” He stood up and extended his long, yellow wings. With one flap, he was airborne. He fluttered for a second, gazing down at her, then vanished.
    “Come back, Shail,” she cried. “Please come back.” She opened her eyes and saw the faint rays of dawn. “A dream,” she said, looking at the locked vehicle doors. She shut her eyes and smiled, thinking of Shail.
    *   *   *
    Kari heard the songbirds and smelled the campfire. She sat up and looked out the window at the neatly rolled tent and stacked camping gear. Charlie gazed at the fire, sipping a cup of coffee.
    “Guess I overslept again,” she said, leaving the vehicle.
    “The biscuits are warm, and the coffee still hot,” he said.
    She nodded and walked to the stream. After splashing water on her face, she returned and sat on a log, enjoying a biscuit.
    “You did not sleep well?” he asked.
    “What makes you think that?”
    “I heard your calls for someone named Shail. You seemed very upset. I nearly woke you to end the nightmare.”
    Kari bit her lip. “I’m sorry I woke you, Charlie, but it wasn’t a nightmare. Since I came back to Dora, I’ve had this crazy, passionate dream. It’s so real I wake up and check the locks to make sure I’m alone.”
    “So Shail was a lover.” He grinned.
    “I’ve loved him for ten years,” she said, without thinking.
    “Ten years? He’s from Dora?”
    Kari’s eyes widened, and she remained silent, realizing her mistake. She had unintentionally revealed the identity of her dream partner.
    “You meet the golden harpy then,” he said, solemnly. “Is Shail the harpy? Does he come to you in your dreams?”
    “Yes, Charlie, yes.”
    He tossed his remaining coffee on the ground and straightened. Flinging his long gray braids back, he stared upward through the branches at the sky and murmured, “God help us.” Coming out of this trance, he turned to Kari. “We must go now. Your father must learn of these dreams.”
    Kari saw that Charlie was very upset. Instead of neatly packing the gear, he threw the equipment into the vehicle. “What is wrong?” she asked, walking to him. He didn’t answer. “What do these dreams mean? Why must Dad know?” When he ignored her questions, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her.
    “The dreams are not yours.” He sighed. “They are the harpy’s. They mean that after all this time, he still wants you. He enters your mind when it is weak and receptive with sleep. There, he weaves his spell of seduction. Your father sent you to Earth to protect you.” He shook his head. “John must be told, and the golden must be hunted down and killed. Had I known this two years ago, I would have shot him when I had the chance.”
    Kari was in shock and stumbled backward, away from Charlie. “They’re just silly dreams—my dreams, Charlie. Please, don’t tell Dad.”
    “They are not your dreams or silly,” he said sternly. “This golden has marked you, and