Hunger, it turned out, was less a specific training technique and more a way of life.

Her first morning on the floating island dawned cool and clear, with sunlight filtering through trees whose leaves hinted at autumn's approach. The air tasted different up here, thinner and purer somehow, as if whatever processes kept the island aloft also cleansed anything impure that might interfere with its function.

Ryelle had slept fitfully, the unfamiliar sounds and smells of the island intruding on her usually-durable peace of mind. Gwynelle's comments about Ebonheim's city being too soft hadn't sat well, and neither had her question about returning to train with her own kind. When morning did finally arrive, it was almost a relief, even if it likely signaled a day filled with challenges she might not be prepared for.

She found Liselotte in the amphitheater again, perched above the clearing.

The Harpy Queen regarded her with the same cool appraisal as before. Her crimson eyes gleamed like rubies in sunlight, and her azure and white feathers rippled in the gentle breeze that stirred fallen leaves along the paths.

"You are here," she observed, her voice carrying easily across the distance between them. "Perhaps not so soft as I feared then."

"I try to learn what's necessary."

"Do you? Well. We shall see soon enough." Liselotte rose from her crouch, wings spreading for balance atop the narrow branch upon which she stood. "Come. Let us discover what you are made of."

They spent the morning sparring much as they had the day before, though with subtler stakes. Liselotte pressed her on defense, offense, and the myriad ways in which an agile opponent with three dimensions of freedom could manipulate a fight. More than once Ryelle found herself battered, bruised, and frustrated by the inability of her own inherited tactics to find purchase against Liselotte's mobile style.

It quickly became clear that their earlier exchange had been almost gentle by comparison. Liselotte made good on her threat from the previous night, pushing her until she felt every strike, every skid across rough earth, and every close call with Liselotte's claws. By the time they broke for rest, Ryelle's body ached from head to toe, and her own claws had shredded the haft of her kanabō with repeated frustrated strikes.

"This," Liselotte said, gesturing toward Ryelle's hands where they still gripped her weapon, "is a flaw. You fight as if your enemy must always be within arm's reach, yet you rarely make contact with your strikes." She twirled her own elegant talons in the air, which seemed to catch the light in a way that emphasized their curved perfection. "Your attacks would be faster without that lump of iron dragging you down."

Ryelle forced her grip to relax, deliberately straightening from her fighting crouch as she faced Liselotte. The Harpy Queen stood on her perch again, wings slightly extended and posture conveying alertness rather than open threat.

"If I'm to fight like you do, I need to be able to fly."

Liselotte arched one perfect eyebrow in her direction. "Is that what you think I'm teaching you? To be a harpy?"

"It seems relevant."

"Really?" Liselotte's eyes gleamed with dangerous amusement, a hint of what lay beneath her cool exterior. "What have I said or done that gave you this impression?"

The question caught Ryelle off guard. She considered herself reasonably capable of reading between social lines, and nothing Liselotte had said or done suggested anything of the sort. But neither had she given clues that suggested the training would take a different form.

"Nothing. You haven't said anything of the sort."

"Precisely." Liselotte's wings snapped open, launching her into flight with the same effortless grace she brought to everything else. "You imagine things of your own accord, then try to force them upon the world. This may work among gods, where will becomes reality, but you're just an avatar. You have no such power."

"Then what am I doing here?"

"You are here to unlearn what Ebonheim has filled your head with." Liselotte circled the arena slowly, her wings beating just hard enough to keep her aloft. "You are here to strip away layers of weakness and delusion until nothing remains but strength and certainty."

"By teaching me to fight?"

"Pah." Liselotte's contempt was palpable, a force in the air between them that made Ryelle's divine senses bristle. "Fighting is incidental. It's simply the means by which I will teach you to hunt."

"Hunt what?"

The Harpy Queen smiled fully for the first time that day, exposing needle-sharp teeth that glistened in the midday sun. Her wings snapped downward in a powerful arc, driving her upward to circle above the amphitheater.

When she next spoke, her voice echoed from all directions at once, amplified by her growing distance and the currents of air that carried her effortlessly skyward.

"Perhaps," she said lightly, "we should find out. Gwynelle! Come give Ryelle her first lesson."

Gwynelle landed with a thump of displaced air, her wings snapping shut as soon as her talons touched the earth. She regarded Ryelle with her usual mix of curiosity and mischief, head tilted in an avian gesture that would have seemed comical if not for the predatory glint in her eyes.

"Yes, Queen!"

"Your first lesson is readiness." Liselotte's voice echoed from above, though her airborne form was little more than a faint silhouette against the afternoon glare. "The hunt does not wait until you are prepared. It comes as it will, when it will. You must be ready to seize it regardless."

"Understood." Ryelle nodded, forcing calm confidence into her tone despite her body's complaints about their earlier sparring session.

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"Good." Liselotte's amusement shaded her tone lightly, a hint of danger lurking beneath the polite surface. "Gwynelle, take Ryelle to learn about hunting."

Gwynelle straightened from her customary crouch, drawing herself up to her full height until she stood nearly nose-to-nose with Ryelle. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and the corners of her mouth curled upward in a broad grin that exposed teeth better suited to shredding prey than smiling.

"Come," she said, beckoning with one clawed finger before leaping upward and taking flight with a powerful beat of her wings. "Gwynelle will show!"

Ryelle hesitated for a heartbeat, torn between confusion over what 'hunting' meant in this context and trepidation at the thought of following Gwynelle on foot if she took flight. Before she could decide between speaking up and keeping her thoughts to herself though, Liselotte's voice drifted back down from above.

"Best not keep her waiting."

Ryelle could imagine all too easily the expression of dangerous amusement on Liselotte's face as she gave that warning. But rather than add fuel to what was clearly meant as a kind of hazing, she simply turned and followed Gwynelle without another word.

Gwynelle led them away from the amphitheater and into the forested heart of the island, her speed perfectly judged to keep Ryelle close behind without pushing her to the point of exhaustion. She clearly knew every inch of the island intimately, picking her way along winding paths and narrow game trails as easily as city-folk navigated paved streets.

They moved uphill for the most part, climbing ridges and scaling rocky outcroppings until they reached the upper reaches of the island's natural terrain. The trees grew shorter here, stunted by wind and cold alike, though stubborn scrub brush and tenacious wildflowers persisted in pockets of sheltered soil. Looking back and down, Ryelle could see distant figures gliding through the air—harpy children, from the looks of their flight patterns. Insects buzzed among the low-growing vegetation, though birdcalls were notably absent.

Gwynelle stopped near the top of a steep rise covered in loose scree and sparse grasses, her toes flexing for balance atop the treacherous footing. She regarded Ryelle with an intent stare, head tilting this way and that as if sizing her up for some unseen challenge.

"Are you going to explain what we're doing here?"

"Queen says learn hunting. So Ryelle comes to Gwynelle to learn hunting!" Her tone suggested this was the most obvious thing in the world and that Ryelle's slowness in realizing it was borderline insulting. She flapped her wings once, creating a gust of air that stirred Ryelle's hair and sent gravel skittering down the hillside.

"I meant, specifically, what we're doing. What am I supposed to be hunting? Why did we have to come out here to do it?"

"Ah." Gwynelle's expression changed to one of understanding. "Clever question! Smart thinking. Shows hunting mind."

"That's not—" Ryelle stopped herself before irritation could make her say something unwise. She took a moment to breathe, regaining her calm before continuing. "Thank you. But that doesn't answer my question."

"Mm. Is hard to explain with words. Hunting best learned by doing." Gwynelle's wings half-spread as she turned to survey the landscape around them. "Here is where Queen first teach Gwynelle to hunt. Good memories."

Something about her tone made Ryelle pause, a note of solemnity beneath the youthful veneer she'd come to associate with Gwynelle's character. Looking around, she tried to see the barren hilltop through a harpy's eyes, to understand what might make it special.

The peak offered stunning vistas in all directions: snow-capped mountains towering above seemingly endless forests far below, winding rivers glittering like strands of silver inlaid upon an emerald tapestry, distant lakes shining bright as mirrors on the horizon...

"Hunting is about feeling," Gwynelle said suddenly, breaking the silence between them. "Heart, body, mind. All three must work together."

Ryelle turned to face Gwynelle once more, squinting against the sunlight that bathed everything in golden warmth. "What does that mean?"

Gwynelle smiled, and Ryelle realized it was the first time she'd seen Gwynelle's expression look genuine rather than mischievous. "Is easiest to show."

She bent her knees, dropping into a low crouch that kept her center of gravity close to the ground even as it let her move more quickly. Her wings spread wide—not quite fully, but enough to indicate she meant business. Sharp talons flexed against the stony dirt, digging furrows deep into the soft loam beneath.

"Try to catch." With that, she launched herself forward with sudden, explosive speed that covered meters in seconds.

Instinct drove Ryelle into action, muscles coiling and uncoiling like springs as she sprang after Gwynelle without hesitation. Wind rushed past her face as she sprinted downhill in pursuit of her fleeing quarry, arms pumping furiously at her sides.

Gwynelle's laughter reached her ears moments before the young harpy took flight with a powerful beat of her wings that sent dirt flying in all directions, pelting Ryelle's skin like stinging insects. She squinted against the dust storm but didn't dare close her eyes lest she lose sight of Gwynelle entirely.

Gwynelle banked sharply left, dodging between trees and around rocky outcroppings at breakneck speeds, her route seemingly chosen at random as if to throw off any attempt at prediction or pursuit.

Undeterred, Ryelle kept chasing after her anyway, vaulting fallen logs and darting around trees with single-minded focus. Her pulse raced with excitement and exertion both, her blood pounding in her veins as she pushed her body to its limits just to keep pace with Gwynelle's airborne maneuvers.

It felt good to move like this, free and wild in a way she'd never experienced before. Everything around her faded away until nothing existed except for her own breathing, her heart hammering inside her chest—and Gwynelle weaving back and forth in front of her.

Gwynelle let out an undulating trill that echoed off the hillsides, drawing Ryelle's attention upward in time to see her twist sideways through a narrow gap between two towering pines, their branches interlocked like arms reaching up from below. Barely slowing her stride, Ryelle angled herself to follow suit, throwing herself into a roll beneath those same branches without breaking stride afterward.

"Is this all it is?" she shouted, grinning fiercely at Gwynelle. "Just chase?"

"Might be!" Gwynelle replied without looking back, her amusement evident in her tone. She spun about midair and dove into a steep descent that took her skimming mere centimeters off the ground, weaving between scrub brush and stones alike.

Without missing a beat, Ryelle matched her move for move—sometimes merely adjusting her balance to negotiate tighter turns or duck beneath low obstacles. She became utterly focused on the task at hand, driven forward by sheer force of will alone.

This went on for some time; Ryelle lost track of exactly how long. She must have run around the island dozens of times, always one step too slow or one heartbeat behind Gwynelle when she finally relented and slowed to a halt, doubled over with hands on knees while catching her breath again.

"I guess I should have expected that," Ryelle panted, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "Being on the ground and all. Hard to match someone in the air."

Gwynelle alighted nearby in another swirl of dust and small pebbles, her own breathing somewhat labored but not unduly so. "Ground? Air? Is all same. Is about heart first." She tapped her chest once, firmly, above where her heart would be. "Hunting is..." Her expression twisted with frustration at the limitations of language. She waved a hand in frustration, gesturing at the landscape surrounding them. "Is this. Big feeling."

Ryelle straightened up, her fatigue beginning to ebb as her divine nature reasserted itself over her weariness. "I don't understand."

"Words nae good for this. Body must learn first." Gwynelle took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as though savoring a pleasant aroma on the breeze. "Try again?"

"Again?"

"Hunting." Gwynelle's smile returned, impish once more. "Catch if can!"

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