Amelia lands in a feathery heap. It's a relief to escape the shade's clutches. Beyond the pain, the weight of his solid form was almost suffocating, and she can see more clearly without his shadows filling her vision.

The smartest thing is to take off to find her human while he's still recovering. She'll fly her somewhere safe to complete their deal and Stocke will never find her before morning. Even if he comes to her nest again, Amelia will have ample time to prepare. She just has to fly away.

But much like shades, harpies are known for their stubbornness and for their almost compulsive need to have the last word. Not just be right, but have others acknowledge their rightness, rub their victory in. Crouched on the ledge with her good hand around the backup flashlight, ready for takeoff, Amelia snaps:

"Lash out all you want, that deal is still mine. You lost."