Burning Fields

 Tenderly, he reached out to her.

She bit off his hand.

Blood gushed from the open wound.

Who knew a harpy's beak and teeth could be that strong? She popped it off like a bottle top.

He felt faint. He was losing too much of life's sustaining fluid.  

She was no help. She just cackled incessantly at him, like a crow magnified. 

He yanked off his shirt with one hand and clumsily tried to wrap his bleeding wrist. It was to no avail. He could not abate the red torrent.  

"Why?" he cried out.

"Because it is in my nature,  you fool of a man! What did you think would happen?"

Everything was dimming. "I cared for you. I just wanted to ..." He hesitated. Focus was becoming harder. "...to help you."

He had defended her. Other neighbors were ready to clip her wings and burn her at the stake. But he saw something in her that made him believe she was worth saving. He knew that she could be tamed and cared for and be used to aid the community instead of threatening it.

He had come into the cave where she hid. He heard her weeping. "There, there now. I've come to help you, not hurt you."

She looked at him, sad eyes brimming with tears. "No one wants to help me. You all just want to see me dead."

"That's not true! I know you are good deep down. When my field burned, I saw you swoop down, pick up my niece, and move her from the all-consuming flames."

She looked at him, her eyes seeming to reach out and appreciate his understanding.

This was a fatal misunderstanding on his part.

Now, he was bleeding out. His shirt failed to staunch the wound. She did not move to help him.

"Of course, I moved the girl. I did not want the fire to take her. I prefer to cook my own food. She slipped from my grip. Before I could grasp her again, your entire village came out after me."

She spread her wings. "But now it is time for me to try again, see what strays I can find."

At that, she flew off, leaving him there to die.

Which he did.