It's been a few weeks since Chazona started reqruiting soldiers with help from The Deviant and The Mystic. We had found the perfect spot in an abandoned factory, and had made camp. It had come to our attention that The Wretcheds can only attack and inhabit you if you leave your mind open to them- the more bad thoughts you have... the more suseptable you are to be their pawn.

We had around 30 soldiers at camp now, training for battle. Although many of these soldiers could not see any of us Wild Ones, they could still hear Andy, and that was enough for them to believe. We walked among them, helping them if they dropped something, perfecting their form for them when it came to training. It must have been strange for them as we would have to show them the proper techniques by moving their bodies into the proper form. When The Deviant was on break from recruiting, he took it upon himself to help all our female soldiers learn the proper footing and stances- although I think he enjoyed it more than they did.

Today was a Thursday and that meant that Chaz would return once more with The Mystic and The Deviant with new recruits. Every Thursday they bring recruits, then they leave every Sunday to go gather more recruits.

I was at my usual post high on top of an old oil drum, watching the cracked desert floor, surveying for any threats or any signs of life. I noticed movement in the distance, and squinting I saw Chaz returning. She was followed by The Mystic and The Deviant as usual, and there were around 7 more recruits with them. The recruits were staring at The Deviant with wide eyes. Something was different this time- The Deviant was carrying someone. By the long hair, I assumed it was a female, and she was unconcious. She looked injured. I immediately notified The Prophet of what I saw, and he readied the med tent. I ran to the gates of our little camp to greet them and help in any way I could.

Once they came close enough, I gasped in shock. The girl in The Deviant's arms was not a normal girl. She had wings.

"Is... is she?" I asked The Mystic.

"Yes.... She is a fallen Angel." The Mystic replied solemnly. I nodded and showed The Deviant to the med tent where The Prophet was waiting. He placed her down on the only cot we had in camp. I scanned her body for injuries. She was covered in blood, her left wing was almost completely torn off, and she looked as if she had deep scratches from The Wretched's staffs. The Prophet gasped as he saw her.

"Andy, can you clean her scratches, cuts, and stab wounds? I'll take care of the wing." I said sternly. I bent down, found a stray thread from my cloak, and began pulling it. The Prophet gasped.

"Are you sure Jake? Your own cloak?" He asked in shock.

"Yes. I am sure." I muttered, pulling more and more of the thread.

"But.... you don't know if she's good or evil... I mean, she's a fallen angel. Angels don't just fall Jake! They are sent to earth as a punishment!" He exclaimed. I sighed.

"I am sure Andy. I am The Mourner, and I can tell you that she is close to death. I do not wish to take another fallen angel. YOU may believe they are bad, but you do not know their kind as I do. I will save her, and if she's good then she can stay and help us fight. She can join the Wild Ones and help us defeat The Wretcheds. Fallen angels may not be in Heaven anymore, but they are still powerful beings, and I'm not risking the life of one." I replied sternly, coldly, and confidently. The Prophet didn't say another word. He knew as well as I, that once my mind has been made, there is no swaying it no matter the reason.

I took the thread from my cloak and searched for a needle. Thankfully the medtent had a few clean ones. I grabbed one, threaded the needle, and walked over to the angel. I began sewing her wing back to where it was once torn before. Once I finished, her wings turned from a beautiful pure white, and began to fade into black at the bottom. The thread from my cloak glowed and I smiled, knowing it was working.

After she was all cleaned, bandaged, and well taken care of, we left her to rest. I walked outside and practically ran into Chaz.

"Let me see her! Is she okay?!" She gasped. I nodded and opened the door for Chaz. She walked through the doorway and I followed her into the room.

"W-what did you do to her?!" She gasped as she noticed the chance of color in the angels wings, as well as the bandage that wrapped her wing to her body in order for it to heal.

"She will survive. He wing was almost completely torn off- and I sewed it back on." I said.

"Why are her wings white on the top, but fade to black on the bottom?" She asked, shocked.

"In order to save her life... in order to sew her wing back onto her body, I had to use thread from my very own cloak." I muttered.

"Your cloak? So what?"

"Chaz... my cloak is not a normal cloak. It has powers of its own from being worn by me for so many centuries. Her wings have changed because she has been touched by death, and she has survived. With the thread from my cloak, she is immortal. Death has no affect on her." I explained. Chaz's face became pale. She nodded, and became silent after that.

Days passed and the angel didn't wake up. I spent most of my time in the med tent with her thanks to orders from The Prophet. He wanted her to be gaurded at all times because he still saw her as a threat. I volunteered, after all she was still alive from my own doing and I took responsibility for whatever the outcome was.

Chaz, The Deviant, and The Mystic had all left- gone to recruit more soldiers as it was now monday. I was sitting in my normal spot next to the cot, and I was watching for any signs of change in the angel. I smiled when I realized she was about to wake up. She twitched a little, and I saw her breathing become normal over the few days, and today all her color had returned.

"Mmmmm...." I heard her groaned as she slowly opened her eyes just a crack. I smiled widely and immediately went to her side.

"Hello, I am The Mourner. You are not in danger. You were injured and are now healing." I whispered. She gasped- most likely because she couldn't see me. I smirked, elated that she had woken up.

"The Mourner?" She whispered and turned her head towards me. It surprised me a bit, it was as if she could see me... but that wasn't possible.... was it? Chaz could see me... maybe she coul too?

"Yes, The Mourner. Although, I suppose you could call me Jake if you'd like."

"Okay... hi Jake." She whispered hoarsely. I flashed a gentle smile in her direction.

"So, can you tell me what a fallen angel is doing here? And how she became so injured?" I asked curiously.

"I.... I don't really remember." She whispered. I sighed.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Carolyn."

Notes

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