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Description
Diving through winds stocked with snow, a large black bird follows the scent of fresh blood. They spiral down hungrily to the window of a motel, pecking at the window glass. The glow of the moon and the snow reflecting it provides the only light. The bird lands, flustered from the cold and wind, and pecks at the window. They realize this is not working and peck at the door latch. The cheap hinge falls open in a gust of wind and the bird hops inside. They march dutifully through the room as the snow falls and wets the carpet and examine the body of a dead woman. At first, they hear nothing and peck with needle like teeth at the bits of flesh on her soft young cheeks.
Suddenly they jump back as a soft and whimpering cry is issued from the woman. But, the bird can swear to this day, her mouth did not move. It craned it's head towards the corpse, which was still warm and had not been dead long at all, and tried to figure where that odd babyish noise had come from. They are once again focusing closing on her face, soft and pale, with red hair sprayed in a halo around it, when another short cry is heard. It jumps back again and finally takes notice of the cause of the woman's death- a stomach area torn out. Her blood soaked nightshirt still covers the wound and the bird, curiously, takes its teeth and tears open the shirt. Below is carnage. Something shifts within the pit of gore. It is a child, cradled gently in the open womb. It cries, softly, but the old bird hears only its louder cries. She is hard of hearing.
The bird is now unconcerned with the potential meal, fascinated by this babe. She knows what has to be done, despite her stomach crying for food. The harpy leaps onto the bed and takes the remainder of the sheets. With one clawed foot she sets to work gently moving the child into a nest of blanket's and wrapping all but his still-wet head tightly for warmth. She picks it up mindfully in her teeth now and hops towards the window, leaping into the sill to leave. She takes one last look at the dead mother, and then flies her newborn child away to an orphanage.

Description
Diving through winds stocked with snow, a large black bird follows the scent of fresh blood. They spiral down hungrily to the window of a motel, pecking at the window glass. The glow of the moon and the snow reflecting it provides the only light. The bird lands, flustered from the cold and wind, and pecks at the window. They realize this is not working and peck at the door latch. The cheap hinge falls open in a gust of wind and the bird hops inside. They march dutifully through the room as the snow falls and wets the carpet and examine the body of a dead woman. At first, they hear nothing and peck with needle like teeth at the bits of flesh on her soft young cheeks.
Suddenly they jump back as a soft and whimpering cry is issued from the woman. But, the bird can swear to this day, her mouth did not move. It craned it's head towards the corpse, which was still warm and had not been dead long at all, and tried to figure where that odd babyish noise had come from. They are once again focusing closing on her face, soft and pale, with red hair sprayed in a halo around it, when another short cry is heard. It jumps back again and finally takes notice of the cause of the woman's death- a stomach area torn out. Her blood soaked nightshirt still covers the wound and the bird, curiously, takes its teeth and tears open the shirt. Below is carnage. Something shifts within the pit of gore. It is a child, cradled gently in the open womb. It cries, softly, but the old bird hears only its louder cries. She is hard of hearing.
The bird is now unconcerned with the potential meal, fascinated by this babe. She knows what has to be done, despite her stomach crying for food. The harpy leaps onto the bed and takes the remainder of the sheets. With one clawed foot she sets to work gently moving the child into a nest of blanket's and wrapping all but his still-wet head tightly for warmth. She picks it up mindfully in her teeth now and hops towards the window, leaping into the sill to leave. She takes one last look at the dead mother, and then flies her newborn child away to an orphanage.