My parents were wanderers when Crow and I were little. I can remember that, sort of. Enough to know the religious weirdos they fell in with were, well, weirdos. The leaders of the group, the Prophet and the Oracle, had a real good song and dance. And from the outside, I get it. They had this compound up in the hills, with some green to it, a nice deep well, and a couple of honest-to-goodness cottages. About five or six families, more than a few kids. The crazy didn't come out til later.

But did it ever come out. According to them, the Apocalypse was the return of the True God to Earth, the great Winnowing of the Wicked and Good. The union of every living person's soul with the Godhead. So there twisted little vision was that all the dying - of people and of animals and of every other damn thing - was the Plan. That was the good thing. The bad thing, was people surviving. So everyone alive had been tainted by the work of the Devil. So they had to purify themselves so they could be worthy to defeat Satan and bring about the Third Coming, when the Waste would be reduced down to a complete cinder and all would be with God. And by purify, I don't mean lots of obsessive baths and enemas. Though they went in for that. Scourging, burning, and worse. And that's before we get to the Oracle deciding that in our sin and shame we could not show our faces to God, plus some babble about the seclusion maintaining purity. It was pretty nuts, even for him. So no one let anyone else see their faces or any part of their bodies outside of rooms that had been cleansed of all sin. Worse things sometimes. Things to... feed the Godhead souls to keep it strong and renew the connection back to those left behind, and ask it question.

Like I said, when they did crazy, they did it all out.

Oh right, my name. See, the Prophet renamed everyone who joined the Pure. The had a thing for birds - the flock, you know? When she came over to name me, she got real worked up. Foaming at the mouth and shaking and the whole bit. So it turns out, I'm the one who's supposed to go out into the Waste and find the Harrower, the Herald of the Third Coming, and bring him or her or it or whatever back to the Holy Place to usher in the Last Days. So, Raven. The bird who whispered wisdom into God's ear. Crow, because he was supposed to go along with me, but he didn't get any fancy prophecy.

On the plus side, that's why all of the crazies taught me everything they knew about surviving in the Wastes. But Crow and I, we were just old enough to remember, and to see that this was all completely insane. And some of the other kids, maybe they didn't really get how crazy, but they knew it was wrong. I got to go out into the world a bit, so I started sneaking in little bits of things to help us. Crow socked away supplies. Owl and Kestrel got a feel for the land, in the dark and the light, and Dove learned how to keep the rest of us from dying. Sparrow... did Sparrow things. Saw something that told us when to go.

So we went. Right out into the Waste, in the middle of the night. Owl flipped on us, maybe had been against us from the beginning. Kestrel caught it first. She got Kestrel, and Crow and I got the hard bastards the Prophet had put out to guard that narrow stony pass up into the vale. But Kestrel got stuck. Brave as hell, kept it quiet so we didn't stop running until we were well away. Told us to leave her behind when we figured it out. Dove wasn't having it, and I sure as hell wasn't either. We carried her skinny ass all the way to Greenhome. She lost her leg, but got the prettiest boy I've seen. Bit too moony for my tastes though. They stuck with us for a while, but when they got in a family way they went back to Greenhome.

Crow, he's over there, looking at us like we just kicked his puppy. Don't mind it, he always looks like that. Sparrow... well. I don't think she's dead. I still have the feeling I'll find her again. Someday when she needs me. Crow and I, we went back up into those hills some years back. Not for a reunion, but to lance that boil of madness. Someone'd been there before us, though. Maybe. Whole place was burned out. But no bodies. Maybe after we left, they decided they needed to get purer. Fucked off for a really high place, where there's still some sun, where it burns you clean, and the air cuts you so deep there's barely anything left.

They'll come back down some day. Who knows what they'll be by then.

Oh, yeah. Crow and I still wear the masks when we're out in the world. In here, it's fine, but out there, under the sky, feels strange without something between me and it. Some things get in you deep. Even if you know they're crazy.