1933

Miles could feel the outside cold air nip at his fingertips and nose as he stood outside of the room he was formed to sleep in; a tent. He had been camping for weeks in the forest, and it was only getting colder as he went up mountains. But either way, if he were to hurt himself or catch a cold, no one would be around to assist him. He was completely at the mercy to the forest. I should pack up and get a head start on my expedition, he told himself as he pulled his jacket closer to his chest.

Under the light of the new moon, the morning's transformation was beginning to take its course. He glanced down at his pocket watch; just barely a quarter to five. There was a low yawn caught in his throat as he pulled his arms behind his head and stretched to his limits, relaxing back to a slouch almost immediately after. Birds chirping could be heard off in the trees - but he didn't come for them. He's looking for something much bigger, something worth showing off in a museum.

The eerie atmosphere of the woods was unsettling enough to force Miles into getting dressed. As the sky turned red with the sun's rise, the fog going with it, Miles rushed to button up his vest and tuck in his cravat at the same time while his glasses threatened to fall off his face. The early bird gets the worm, after all.

Months ago...

"You can't be serious, boy."

It was sudden, but it hadn't jarred Miles from his absent thoughts. His mentor, Von Karma was waiting for a response as he slammed his papers down on the desk in his office. The distant sound of honking cars and buses rang outside his windows, distracting his gaze until Manfred abruptly stood from his chair and jerked the curtains to hide the city from Mile's wandering mind. He turned around, his eyes sharp to the point which caused Miles to look the other way.

"I am being completely serious, sir." His voice was quiet, having had to take a few moments to even grasp it. "I just need money for a boat and I'll be on my way then return within two months."

The man cocked his head, squinting like he was looking directly into a light, but his response was quick and dripping with amusement like oil. "Empty handed?" Gradually with a low groan in the back of his throat, Manfred sat back down opposite from Miles. Around his office stuffed animals from all over the world hang on his wall or a stand like gold metals, their lifeless eyes gazing down on him. The best adventurer and hunter you ever lay eyes on in this part of Germany. Gregory Edgeworth would have beaten that title from him- if he had made it back from America as promised. He was out oversea to find a mythological creature referred to as a harpy with no luck whatsoever. He never came back.

Everyone didn't even blink an eye. Gregory was just a damn fool looking for angels and died oversea. What a shame, they said. Oh, what a waste, they said as his 9 years old son mourned over his disappearance. He was the only survivor of the shipwreck. Founded unconscious on a floating board going towards England, he was rescued, told for his father's death, then brought to his new home of the Von Karmas. He was extremely lucky to survive, but, sometimes he wished to have gone down with the ship by his father's side. He was probably asleep in his office when everything went down, the water being too strong to allow him to pry the door open. Miles was on the deck watching the sky with content until suddenly - the whole boat shook. That's all he could remember, the soft clouds and the groaning sound of wood and steel being ripped apart.

"No, I'll have a specimen to your satisfaction and make you proud without fail." 20 years old Miles replied with a spark of confidence in his voice. His mentor glanced back at his papers, maybe in thought or just stalling. He made another grumble in the back of his throat to clear his scratchy voice, then he reached over into his pocket and pulled out a leather bag of gold coins. "You better-" He looked him dead in the eye, "Two months and I expect results." Miles looked back, his jaw tight. "Yes, sir."

That was five months ago...

Miles had lost track of the days that went by on his search. Traveling across treacherous rivers, going in circles for six days straight, and being chased by a bear a whole night can sometimes shake you up to forgetting what day it was. Besides that, though, he was so close to finding what he was looking for; a harpy. Feathers, much too big for any normal bird, accumulated the higher he went on the mountainside. Picking up his backpack, Miles took the first step to continue his journey on the animal-made trail. He would have to leave his tent behind if he wanted to room for collecting feathers along the way. And his backpack was big. At least, big enough to carry everything city adventurer could need from his journals to shaving supplies. Along with, of course, the essential supplies for surviving in the wilderness.

He traveled for hours until the sun was directly overhead. His feet ached horribly. Groaning, he came to a complete halt, dropping his bag out of harm's way on a log by a clearing on the trail. There was the sound of water. Come to think of it, Miles had drunk the last of his water an hour ago. This could be a good time to refill, he realized and reached into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out his steel water bottle. Easily enough, he followed after the sound of the river off the trail, leaving his backpack behind. No one is around to steal his things, why should he worry?

Taking off the lid, Miles dipped his bottle into the fresh river no longer than a minute after looking for it, waiting for it to be filled to the top before taking a gulp. It tasted fine, he confirmed mentally, drinking till his thirst was quenched and poured the cold water over his head. There was a sigh of relief and he rubbed the water over his sweaty forehead. Then refilled the bottle, placing the lid over it. That's when he heard the bells on his backpack jingle, metal objects being moved around back on the trail. He jumped up to his feet. "Hey!" Must be a squirrel. Miles stomped his feet, making as much noise as he could as he went marching right over to the trail but what he saw wasn't exactly a small, innocent squirrel.

Dark, wilted feathers littered the "crime scene" while his backpack was currently being picked at by large talons, so sharp, Miles could see that just holding it was ripping the heavy duty fabric apart. Was it a bird or man...? It looked bird-like enough, except when you looked up. There was bare skin along its shoulders and neck. As his backpack was murdered for its insides, the creature's brows were creased together, squinting. Still, Miles looked just as confused from where he stood behind the trees. He could almost see the creature play with his bag, kicking it with their talon-like feet as they tried to figure out what it was exactly. There was food inside, that's all it knew so far.

Miles, wide-eyed, was trembling. He didn't know what to do- his backpack was being gutted by a harpy! In the flesh, feathers and all. Usually rather astute, it seemed all thoughts ran through his head at that point, and he was left staring at those big brown doe eyes scowling at his bag. Their hair was slicked back from probably flight and pointed out at the ends in an unusual way that Miles had never seen before. And their feathers, they dragged on the ground but the wingspan was as long as any other human's arm. The creature was beautifully built, Miles would have to admit.

He reached into his pocket for his gun ever so slowly, along with bullets. It was a struggle to muffle up the click as he popped out the barrel. With shaking hands, he packed his gun with the tiny bullets. If he wasn't quiet, he could be that thing's next victim. Panting and utterly engulfed in the foreign, frenetic energy, Miles popped the barrel back in and took his aim for the chest. It caught the creature's attention. Brown eyes, full of life, went wide. Wider than any human could do and gazed back on the other. It lasted for only a second, but within that second Miles held his breath and froze. A mistake on him as the harpy opened up his wings and like a bullet, jump to the sky without a sound. Miles only watched. It was almost dreamlike being held back with just one powerful look. Still, though, he had enough of his wits to eventually realize they were too far away to shoot. Or, he. Scoffing, he lowered his gun to his side, getting somewhat of a handle on himself. Damn. He was so close, too...

Miles's bag was a complete mess. Claw marks every few inches apart covered it and the contents were either opened from the inside or thrown out. Groaning, he tried to pick up the pieces on his knees. Telegrams he had been saving for months to send back to Germany until he could find a post office to send them were torn up and scattered. Von Karma would be looking down on him if he knew about today. Maybe he'll lie and keep the creature part out of his telegrams. He looked down at his lap, his hands are still shaking. I should continue, he told himself as a spark of confidence came back, that thing couldn't have gotten far.