A/N: Sorry for the delay; the internet completely collapsed on me. I haven't been able to get it working for the past week! *cries gently* Anyway, thank you to all my still-loyal (hopefully) reviewers who reviewed last week: Kiterious, YamiBakura1988 and Aqua girl 007! Hopefully this chapter will make up for the chapter-less week you've endured!

LadyCathy. x

ooOoo

Chapter 10: Monotony, Snakes and... Harpies?

Three days of travelling passed by. The scenery changed – from canyon, to forest, to villages and back to canyon – but little could break the monotony of the journey. Even Marik's slowly weakening attempts at humour did little to alter the tedium.

Day four after the conversation by the river arrived and Bakura found himself at the receiving end of the boredom. Bakura woke late that morning; by the sounds of things, people were already up and about and were getting chores done without him. That was fine. That meant less work for him and less time spent in Mana's presence.

Not that he disliked Mana. He just wasn't sure where they stood anymore.

It had been a lot easier when they had just hated each other.

Something rustled the corner of his tent; he ignored it and continued to slowly rouse himself from the realm of sleep. He supposed he should make an appearance. Then again, he was quite happy to leave that moment to a later time, allowing him a few more minutes of blessed peace.

Unfortunately, his 'blessed peace' was interrupted by something slithering across the sandy floor of his tent and moving over his feet. He froze, his mind whirring away at the contact, and slowly moved his upper body so he could see whatever was slinking over his ankles.

It was scaled.

And it was hissing.

Bakura moved incredibly fast for one still embracing the lull of sleep; he stumbled out of his bed, kicking the covers away and getting as far as bringing a cloak around his shoulder for additional protection before finding himself staggering out of his tent. On exiting his tent, he almost rammed straight into two individuals standing outside.

"What's the matter, Bakura? Something give you a scare?" Marik smirked at his friend.

Bakura, however, only glowered. He now became painfully aware of what he must look like; bedraggled with the hazy veil of sleep clouding his features and running like Apep had just appeared before him. His glower intensified as a niggling seed of suspicion settled inside. "Marik, if you're going to tell me that you let that... that..."

"Snake?" Mana offered. She was standing beside Marik, mirroring the other's grin with uncanny expertise. Bakura quickly came to the conclusion she had spent too much time around Marik; a conclusion he had suspected at Mana's first use of the phrase 'binky boy'. Mana grinned again, this time looking more like herself. She still looked much too mischievous for his liking. "Why? You're not scared, are you? It wasn't even a poisonous one."

"I told you – I don't like snakes."

"Or things with tentacles," Mana added. "Yes, I know."

"We would have gone with the tentacle thing, but a snake was easier to find," Marik admitted shamelessly.

"Oh, stop glaring, Bakura," the princess sighed, rolling her eyes at the thief. "We needed a way to get you up and it was just too tempting to resist. It worked, didn't it?"

Bakura struggled to find a suitably expressive retort to illustrate his displeasure; eventually he gave up, admitting that his sleep-addled mind wasn't awake enough yet. He contented himself with another glower before slouching back inside the tent to start packing stuff away before the day's travel. Mana and Marik didn't have to wait long before the scaly body of a snake was brutally thrown through the tent entrance.

Mana grinned at her fellow conspirer. "Should we have sunk to that level of entertainment?"

Marik laughed. "Not feeling guilty, are we?"

"He's going to be a foul mood for the rest of the day, you know that."

"Pfft, like that's going to make any difference."

Abruptly the monotonous tedium that had been bearing down upon the group for the last three days was broken by an ear-splitting screech shattering the air. Or several, to be exact. The group balked at the noise, scattering in a disorganised fashion until one pointed up at the sky, still yelling. Mana turned her gaze heavenward, then numbly tugged at Marik's sleeve. "Um, Marik?"

Marik had already unsheathed a blade; the princess couldn't be just a little surprised at the readiness in the action. "Yeah?"

"Um, you might want to look up."

Marik slowly obliged. His complexion paled. "Oh."

"Yes. 'Oh.'"

"Run?"

"Yes... Yes, I'd say so." She started to sprint out of the camp, but dragged herself to a halt beside Bakura's tent. "Bakura! You in there?"

The white-haired thief appeared at the entrance, wielding a variety of weapons. A sheathed blade was tossed to the young woman; she caught it awkwardly with both hands. "Just stocking up. You know how to handle a sword, right?"

"Not particularly," Mana admitted. "I think my parents failed to include it in the 'princess lessons'."

"Right. It's simple enough; even your highness should be able to get the hang of swinging a blade." He smirked, despite the situation. "Just try not to take off anyone's head."

Mana grinned back. "No promises."

Marik looked torn between running for cover and reminding his friend to start running too. "Hey, guys? Run. Please."

"Oh, right." By the looks of things, there were several caves located in the side of the canyon; it was these spots where the other thieves had taken cover. Following suit, Marik, Mana and Bakura found safety in a nearby cavern. Bakura could be heard to mutter about 'more ruddy caves'.

"Hey, Mana; you knew what the cockatrice was, didn't you?" Marik asked. The three were alone in that particular cave, but they could see others hidden away in other cave entrances. They couldn't see the creatures, but they weren't sure whether to be pleased or worried by that.

"Yes. And?"

"Any idea what those things were?"

"I didn't really spend that much time looking at them..." Mana confessed. "To be fair, I was much busier running. But," she added, after seeing Marik and Bakura's expression – and Bakura instinctively beginning a sarky response – "I think I've heard of them before. They're harpies. Bringers of death."

"Bird-women, right?"

"Yes – bird-women, as you put it, with beaks, wings and claws. They're fast and I've also heard their feathers can't be pierced by any weapon..."

"Great. So how do we kill them?" Bakura demanded.

"How should I know?"

"You're the one with all the knowledge on these creatures–"

"From myths," Mana curtly reminded him.

"Very well then; what do the myths say?"

"I don't think I've ever heard of a harpy being killed in myth..."

Bakura uttered several choice curses. "Great. Just great." All three shied away as more screeching filled the air. They all raised their weapons; Mana more shakily than her companions. "So what do we do?"

"I don't know."

"Don't the myths give any indication of how to deal with harpies?"

"The only one I think is the one where they trap them... but I can barely remember how..."

"Ruddy lot of good you are," Bakura muttered. Keeping his sword raised, he gingerly approached the entrance, peering out as he noted the distinct presence of the harpies' screeching. But the creatures themselves were not in sight. By the sound of things, they were scavenging their way through the camp's resources.

"Where are they?" Marik had joined Bakura's side, looking out to the harpy-less sky and then to the harpy-infested camp.

"Round the camp." They could see the outside of the camp, but the tents curved round in a loose circle, limiting their view of the harpies themselves. They glimpsed the occasional blackened wing, but no more.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Mana whispered. Bakura couldn't help noticing that she was grasping the blade's handle awkwardly in both hands. Note to self: give the girl some lessons in brandishing a sword. Assuming they got out of their current situation reasonable unscathed, that is. "I mean, that's all our supplies," she added, nervously standing at the entrance beside the other two. "It's a good two days' travelling to the previous village if we want to restock – which we will have to if we don't stop them soon – and we're running out of time."

"There might be another village ahead," Marik suggested.

Mana shook her head. "The last villagers said that this canyon is meant to be haunted. It didn't sound like there were any settlements out here, so..."

"So you're suggesting we should scare the harpies off?" Bakura demanded. "Princess, I admire your gutsiness, but you're bordering on madness."

The other thief grinned. "Sounds like the pot's calling the kettle black."

"Shuddup, Marik." Bakura glowered at his friend – soon-to-be ex-friend, if he weren't careful – and shifted his hold on his weapon.

"I was serious with my question. What are we going to do?" Mana insisted.

"Well, I'm quite happy to wait for the harpies to leave."

"Coward."

"Survivalist," Bakura corrected.

"They'll have ripped the camp apart..."

"Would you rather they ripped you apart?"

Mana closed her mouth, her lips thinning into a tight line. "I'm thinking of Atem."

"Oh, it's always Atem, isn't it?" Bakura snapped irately.

"Two days travelling back to the last village will use up two thirds of our remaining three days. There's no way we'd find Apep's shrine before we would have to turn around to make it back to the capital. And trust me on this;" Mana growled, turning to the white-haired thief, "if we don't reclaim the Puzzle, I'm dragging your sorry behind back so you can take Atem's place. So it's in your own interest that we don't get delayed."

"Perhaps she's got a point–"

"Shuddup, Marik," Bakura repeated. When had Marik started to disregard his opinion so often? Bakura was tempted to lay the blame on Mana, but, if truth be told, Marik had never bothered to hide his thoughts or even be vaguely subtle. It certainly wasn't a new development.

Mana was getting fidgety though. "Ra, I'm not going to stand around here doing nothing," she muttered. "We've got to do something."

"Do you plan on taking the harpies on singlehanded?" Bakura asked sarcastically.

He immediately regretted that comment.

Mana grinned at the thief; the action didn't reach her eyes. "At least I'll have tried." She broke from the cover of the cave and dragged herself to a halt behind one of the tents.

Marik was staring. "She's as mad as you."

"Thanks, Marik."

"She's not seriously stupid enough to try scaring off those creatures. Is she?" His last question was sincerely directed to Bakura, with the sudden and irrepressible seed of doubt clouding his judgement.

"I guess I did it because... because I believed I could make a difference."

Bakura grimaced at the memory from the riverside. "Yes, she bloody is."

"We should help her, shouldn't we?"

"If she's stupid enough to run out into a harpy-infested camp..."

"Bakura..."

Bakura glared at his friend. "If we die..."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before. Come on; I guess the lady needs some backup." Marik idly moved his grip on his weapon and abandoned his cover to join Mana. Glancing once heavenwards, in a 'why me?' action he followed his companion, cursing his not-so-lucky stars as he darted across the all-too-wide distance.

"Princess, are you trying to kill us all?"

"I didn't ask you to help," Mana reminded him curtly.

Another thief joined them, a bow slung over one shoulder and a sword in his hand. Mana recognised him as Rishid – she found she could name most of the thieves after the week and a half spent in their presence. "Please tell me this isn't another of Bakura's mad schemes."

"Why is it always my mad schemes?"

"Actually, its Mana's," Marik supplied, ignoring their leader's irate comment.

The newcomer looked to the princess. She felt it necessary to explain her logic; by the end of the explanation, the thief looked vaguely satisfied.

"And, if she's correct, we can't even pierce their feathers with our swords," Bakura complained. "Of course, we don't know whether she is correct..."

"We're going on the assumption that the myths are correct," Mana retorted. "And at least I know something about them – which is a great deal more than you–"

"Look, princess..."

"Why don't we just attack the non-feathered parts?" Rishid offered flatly, evidently not amused by the pair's bickering. "Like the head and neck, for instance."

"Great, but how do you suggest we do that?" Bakura questioned in an equally flat tone. "The creatures will either fly out of reach or attack with their talons the moment we try to spear them with our weapons. And I'd rather not be torn to shreds, especially not on a stupid mission like this."

Mana, however, had been eyeing Rishid's bow. Clogs were turning. "We don't have to use swords," she suddenly said. She pointed to the man's bow. "If we can get the creatures out into the open, Rishid can take them down with his arrows."

Bakura sneered at the young woman. "And, pray tell, princess; how are we going to get them out into the open?"

ooOoo

On reflection, perhaps it wasn't the smartest question Bakura could have asked; he should have realised it was simply begging to be instantly volunteered. And while he didn't disapprove of the diversion tactic – he had often left diversion tactics to his two second-in-commands during many plots and ploys – it was the first time he had been a diversion himself.

He wasn't happy.

But, then again, Rishid was the best with the bow. That left very little room for debate.

He had, however, sent a quick command to Mana to stay behind the tent and keep out of the way. The last thing he needed was the meddlesome princess getting killed or kidnapped – and, since she was a princess, that was bound to happen – and Mana had accepted that order. Grudgingly, he had to admit, but she didn't look like she was about to do anything stupid. Yet.

So here he and Marik were, running out into the centre of camp, waving arms about like drunken fools and throwing whatever insults came to mind. Not their most inventive diversion by any stretch of the imagination, but it certainly gained the harpies' undivided attention.

A little too well, for Bakura's liking.

There were four of the foul creatures. All scavenging their way through the camp, leaving mess and devastation in their path, but upon the two humans' approach, they stopped. All about seven feet high – taller than the average person – but their size was exaggerated by the warped, black-feathered wings sprouting from their backs. Rustling, twitching, responding to every emotion that flitted through their minds. And sharp faces – angular features, with sharp, glaring eyes pinpointing the humans – but all of indefinite age. Sometimes they looked young and almost beautiful, other times they looked haggard and repulsive.

The nearest one landed awkwardly on the ground; Bakura couldn't help noting that despite their human body, their feet were taloned. Undeniably bird. Black wings rested idly by its side, blocking Rishid's line of fire. This harpy's hair was sleek, black like its feathers; its face looked almost young and beautiful. And cruel. The thin line where its mouth resided twisted upwards to form a predatory grin.

"Well, look what we have here, sisters. Seems like a couple of mortals want to spoil our fun." It – she, for it, along with its companions, was evidently a she – laughed. The laugh didn't fit the face though; it was too old, too crackly, too close to a crow's cackling for it to be a young woman's laugh. The other harpies' laughter were uncannily similar. "It's been a while since any mortals travelled through this canyon – too long."

Both Marik and Bakura were a little thrown off track by the creature's comment. Not that they misunderstand what she was saying. They just hadn't been expected to hold a conversation with a harpy.

"Now, I didn't like the insults you were hurling our way..." The harpy clicked her fingers, showing her long, sharpened nails for the two humans to see clearly. "What was that about our mother?"

Drat. And the vulture insult had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Both men pointed to their companion. "It was him."

The creature laughed again, rounding on the two uncomfortably humans. "How... painfully predictable... Either way though, it doesn't matter. You will both die."

'Damn it, Rishid. Shoot already!' Bakura's blade seemed particularly flimsy when facing the bird-women; the knowledge that it wouldn't even pierce the feathers did little to soothe his worries. But the wings were still obscuring the archer's aim.

Another harpy joined her companion; this one had a mess of blonde curls falling about her face, trailing down her back and falling against her blackened wings. "We haven't had any mortals here for so long," she hissed, her angular eyes glittering with anticipation. "Let's make their death a slow one, sister. I want to scratch out their eyes."

The other two harpies landed heavily beside their sisters, loudly voicing their complaints. Evidently who got the honour of dishing out certain damage was going to be hotly debated. Marik and Bakura looked vaguely pale; Bakura admittedly more than Marik – he had already suffered the fear of being blinded. It wasn't an experience he hoped to repeat. Some of his cocky sureness returned to him though, leading him to clap his hands together to reclaim the creatures' attentions. "Now, now, ladies; if our presence is going to cause such a ruckus, perhaps we should be going..."

He turned to leave, but the dark-haired harpy moved round fast enough to block them both. "Not so fast... No one crosses our path and gets away with it..."

The blonde harpy moved so it towered beside her friend. "I want the eyes, sister," she snarled, eyeing the two men's faces.

"Patience, sister. We will all get our fun..." The harpy – who appeared to take role as the leader – smirked at the trapped humans, showing a selection of sharp, needle-like teeth. "There are so many ways to kill... It's difficult to choose which one..."

"I won't kill them," the blonde replied, her own eyes glittering with what was recognisably bloodthirsty urges. "Just maim them a bit. The rest of you can kill them."

The other two harpies joined their sisters; a redhead whose eyes were sunken in a sign of age, but whose the rest of the face was as young as the others, grinned wanly. "I've heard that some cultures have a method called quartering... You take a limb each and tear the victim apart..."

The last one, a brunette with wide, almost innocent eyes, stared at the humans. She tilted her head to one side in a curious fashion. "I like watching them fall," she stated bluntly. Her voice sounded younger than the others, which made the sadistic comment sound even more wrong. "You carry them up to the sky and drop them..."

"That's over too quickly–"

"But the screaming's good–"

"What about bleeding to death?"

"That's so messy."

"Exactly."

The harpies crowded closer, ruffling their wings and raising them into the air as they fought to make themselves heard. Feathers started to fly as they argued over their course of action. A scream filled the air – shrill, bird-like – and one of the harpies – the redhead – fell to the ground. An arrow pierced its unprotected neck. It twitched and went still.

"More! There are more of them, sisters!" the leader cried. "More humans!" The harpies scattered; the leader went for Rishid's hiding place, the brunette went to drag Marik off the ground and the blonde, nails drawn, went for Bakura. Another arrow was fired; the brunette harpy fell to the ground, dropping Marik in the process. Marik gingerly got to his feet, bearing his sword in the action, and went for the harpy that had reached Rishid.

Mana was kneeling, terrified, at her post behind the tent. She could see the harpy snatch Rishid's bow away from him and throw it away, moving in to take revenge for her fallen sisters. She saw Marik arrive, his blade bared, and support his friend, although neither could reach any vulnerable points with the harpy flying above them. But they were managing.

Just.

She turned her gaze to Bakura; he wasn't doing so well. At some point he had lost his sword, and now was only relying on a dagger to keep the deranged creature at bay. The blonde harpy had cornered him against a tent and appeared to find it very amusing that he believed he could fend it off with only the dagger to hand. The harpy brought one hand towards his face, intent on following her previous threat by the look of things; the dagger only just deflected the blow, but the sharpened nails were still raked across his face, leaving a scar above and below his eye.

Still, at least it missed the eye itself.

Not thinking, Mana reached for Rishid's bow that had been thrown her way. There was no way she could reach Bakura in time, but the bow was a good long-range weapon. Lacking any arrows though, she raced out to the nearest fallen harpy; feeling slightly sick, she forced herself to extract the arrow embedded in its neck. In the same action she notched it into the bow, drawing the string back and firing.

She hadn't expected to hit it. Certainly not kill it. She was aiming for it, but if she could distract it, that would be good enough.

But the arrow did hit the harpy's neck.

Convulsing, it contorted at the blow, screaming like its sisters and dropping to the ground. Dead.

Still breathing heavily, Bakura looked up, expecting to see Rishid as his rescuer. He couldn't stop himself from staring when he recognised the bow-bearer not as his second-in-command, but as Mana. After the surprise had passed through his system, red-headed indignation took over. "Ra, what were you thinking, woman?" he demanded, shouting across at the princess. "If you had missed, you could have hit me instead! Have you even ever handled a bow before?"

Mana spluttered at the accusation. "Out of all the ungrateful, pigheaded, obnoxious...! I just saved your life, you moron!"

Bakura trooped over, slightly embarrassed at the fact that he had needed saving in the first place. And by a woman, no less. "I had that under control..."

"If having your eyes scratched out is 'under control' then I'd hate to see what you'd class as 'out-of-control'," Mana snapped back. "Couldn't you, for once, just be grateful? Or is your pride too great for you to ever feel the need to thank another human being...?"

"My pride–"

"Is an inflated, egotistical existence," the princess finished sharply.

"Coming from royalty, that's pretty rich."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

There was shouting coming from across the camp; it was only when it was accompanied by an inhuman screeching that either of them identified it as a warning. Both turned on their heels to see the last harpy – irate with the death of her final remaining sister – diving towards them. It looked like she had abandoned her battle with Marik and Rishid to wreck revenge upon the other two. Mana instinctively started to move the bow before her, but realised she had no remaining arrows to shoot. The bow was still brought before her, but in a defensive manner; with irritation at her own stupidity, Mana remembered she had dropped her sword when opting for the bow.

"Move, princess!"

There hadn't been time to move; there had only been time to brace herself for the impact – but another, unexpected, impact came, this one to her side. She was thrown to the ground, hitting the sandy soil and becoming disorientated for several precious seconds. She rolled over onto her other side so she could see what had happened. Her knees had drawn themselves instinctively before her, readying her feet to kick out at anything that tried to go for her, but the harpy's attention wasn't on her.

It took her several more seconds to organise the scene before her, finally realising that the impact had been Bakura shoving her out of the harpy's direct path. He had taken part of the blow – not all of it, for he had moved just out of the creature's direct blow – but enough to leave his left arm scarred and bleeding. His right arm was baring the dagger – looking pathetically small when facing the harpy – and the harpy in question was crouching on the ground to Mana's side. It appeared Bakura's actions had thrown the harpy off course and led her to overshoot her target.

The harpy grinned – this time it was maniacal, dangerous, insane – and lunged for the thief.

Mana found herself getting to her feet, staggering slightly as the disorientation continued to cloud her brain, and her fingers curled around the previously dropped bow. The empty, useless bow.

Bakura jumped back, only just succeeding in deflating the worst of the blow. He was still left with a cut along his shoulder. But, if the fight continued, it was unlikely that it would be the worst he would receive.

Mana was only vaguely aware that she was unsteadily standing at the sidelines of the fight. The bow was still clasped in her hands, now slick with sweat. Something was pounding against her head, urging her to do something, anything. And when the harpy next lunged, Mana lunged too. She jumped at the harpy's back, bringing the bow over the harpy's head and around its neck, half-strangling the creature in the action. Instead of attacking Bakura, it staggered back, gargling at its restricted windpipe and attempting to throw its passenger off. Mana saw the world – the sky, the camp, the sandy ground – spinning around in a multicoloured, marbled blur, her fingers already beginning to numb. Black wings thrashed violently around her, bruising and bumping her, jostling her to release her grip.

Eventually her fingers slipped and she felt herself being thrown away. She became aware that she had abruptly stopped; her back had hit something, but the world still seemed to be spinning. Her eyes slowly brought the world back into focus and now she saw something approaching her. Something large, with black, distorted wings surrounding the creature like a feathered aura. The harpy brought one hand to the bow around its neck and snapped it loose. The now-useless bow was discarded to the ground.

"You... you killed my sister..." it rasped. Its voice no longer sounded human, but like something dragged from the land of the dead. From the underworld. "You... and all the other pathetic mortals here... My sisters are dead because of you!" One clawed hand curled around Mana's neck and hoisted her into the air, bringing her closer to the creature's sharp, hateful face. "You will pay... You will all pay..." The other hand traced its long nails along Mana's face, not deep enough to scar or even draw blood, but enough to make Mana flinch away. "I'll scratch those pretty little eyes out first... You don't need to see in order to fear... Hearing the screams is often enough..."

The claws lingered by Mana's eyes even as she scrabbled at the creature's grip, trying to pry herself free but failing. Before the lengthened nails could leave any mark on her eyes though, the harpy twitched. She convulsed back, as if something had struck her, her hand loosening on Mana's neck and eventually dropping the princess to the ground. A sickening, gargled noise emitted from the creature's throat before it finally collapsed.

Mana looked shakily up to see a dagger protruding from the harpy's neck. She looked over to Bakura, who had just thrown the weapon.

"Now we've both saved the other," he said gruffly. "Everyone's even."

Mana smiled weakly. "I guess we are."

The thief walked over to the young woman, kicking the harpy's wing out of the way as he went. Pausing before the princess, he offered a hand. "Come on; I suppose we should assess the damage."

Mana barely hesitated before placing her hand in his; upon trying to rise to her feet though, she discovered her legs were too watery to support her. She almost collapsed down to her knees, but Bakura caught her before she fell.

"Did it hurt you?"

"No..." Mana's cheeks reddened, but at the thought that she could be so weak as to nearly faint from fear rather than from any injury. "I think... I think it's just the shock," she admitted. She waited for Bakura to scoff, but it never came.

"Yes, shock can do that. You'll probably need a drink..."

"I'm fine. I don't need any water."

"I was thinking of something a little stronger."

"Oh. I... No, I'm fine." Mana reddened slightly more. "I'm fine," she repeated. "It's just..."

"Hey, Bakura!" Marik was standing over one of the previously-slain harpies, calling over to his friend. He nudged the creature, causing it to twitch. "I think this one's still alive."

"Kill it. Wait, no." Bakura dragged himself and Mana over to the harpy in question. Mana was set down on the sand several metres away from the creature, while Bakura approached the harpy with caution. The harpy was the brunette one; the one that had sounded the youngest. The one with the scarring sadistic streak that included dropping humans from very tall heights. Bakura bared a dagger – it appeared he had several on his person – and brought it towards the creature's neck. "Answer a few questions and I'll make your passing quick."

The harpy gargled a strangled, burbling laugh; a dying laugh. "I do not fear death... I have seen death in all its glorious forms..."

Mana felt vaguely sick, but apparently she was too shaken for her body to even attempt to throw up.

"Apep's shrine – is it near here?" Bakura demanded. "Answer quickly!"

"Close... Closer than you think," the creature tittered. Its wide, almost innocent-looking eyes rolled in a crazed fashion. "But you can't... You can't get to Apep's realm..."

"I have this." Bakura brought out the golden ring, letting it glitter in the morning light. "It'll let me in."

"Strange... Strange..." the creature repeated. Its head was now lolling from side to side as death approached. "Strange... A mortal has Apep's key... A mortal has Apep's key... What's Apep doing? But mortals will never survive... Will never make it..."

"What? Why?"

"We guard the canyon... My sisters and I... we guard the canyon. But my sisters..."

"Your sisters are dead," Bakura growled. "Are you the guardians of Apep's realm? Do you keep humans away from his shrine – stop people from entering?"

"We are... only one of the guardians..."

"One? So there are more?"

"Only one more..." The harpy's smile stretched all too wide on her thin, dying face. Age lines began to creep across her face, aging her. Death was coming. "The last guardian."

"What is it?"

The same gargled laugh echoed through the harpy's throat. "She'll eat you all... Eat you all... Eat you all... Eat all the puny mortals for breakfast," she cried in a sing-song voice. Another laugh, this one final and ringing, ending with a wheezing last gasp. The wrinkles spread across the harpy's face like spiders weaving an intricate, deep-set web, and the wide eyes glazed over.

Death had claimed the final harpy.