After an hour or two of wandering around, trying to find your way out of the woods, you're feeling very hungry. You're not sure what sort of bird you're based on, but you can tell that you're craving meat, which makes sense, given your now-sharper teeth. After a little more wandering, you spy a rabbit. Realizing that you'll never catch it on foot, you flap into the air and speed toward it. The rabbit hears your takeoff and dashes away, but you're faster, and in a moment its lifeless body is clenched in your claws.
You alight near a stream. You can't believe you just killed an animal bare-clawed, and you almost feel sorry for it, but a man's gotta eat, after all. Though you're hardly a man, as you are reminded when you bend over to dig in. You're surprised to find that, despite your new endowments, you can do so quite effectively; you manage to bend nearly straight down, and, using your claws to hold it in place, tear a chunk out of the rabbit with your teeth. Standing up, you chew and swallow. It's stringy, bland, and raw, but it's food nonetheless, and as hungry as you are, you finish it off quickly.
After your meal, you drink from the stream in a similar fashion, first wading a little ways out to avoid any microbes or parasites that might be living in the shallows. Using your wings, you splash water onto your face, washing off the blood from your dinner. Returning to shore, you begin to preen your feathers; you can't explain why, you just feel a need to do so. Instinct, you suppose, but you hope that's as far as your new instincts extend. As you finish your preening, you drift off to sleep.
You awake the next morning, refreshed, and are shocked to discover that last night was not a dream and you really are a harpy. Your clothes, you find, have mysteriously disappeared, and shrugging back what remains of your fear of the unknown, you head over to the stream for a look.
The breasts, of course, you expected, but there's still quite a difference between imagining yourself topless and actually seeing yourself topless. They're beautiful, they really are; you just wish you weren't viewing them from a first-person perspective. Your nether regions are covered in down, but upon bending over for a closer look, you see that while youmay be a bird from the waist down, you seem to possess a normal human woman's reproductive equipment. You wonder whether harpies menstruate when they ovulate, like mammals, or lay eggs, like birds. Then you wonder which is worse; bleeding out the genitals on a regular basis, or passing large objects through on a regular basis. At any rate, it's better than being a bird "where it counts;" if you ever do get used to the idea of mating in this form, at least you won't have to do it with the same orifice you excrete from.
As you're pondering this, you hear a rustle and then a snap. Turning, you see...