The house stands on the outskirts of the city. In a place called Combs. Long high-rise buildings here are built in jagged rows with gaps of square–concrete courtyards - the supposed places of games of young "combers". The teeth are white, multi-eyed and similar to each other. Where they haven't grown up yet, there are fenced–in wastelands. The rubble of demolished houses, the nests of rats and stray dogs are much more interesting to young "combers" than their own yards – the intervals between the teeth. On a neutral territory between two worlds – battlements and wastelands – there is a House. It is called Gray. He is old and closer in age to the wasteland graves of his peers. He is lonely-other houses shun him – and does not look like a prong, because it does not reach up. It has three floors, the facade looks at the highway, it also has a courtyard – a long rectangle surrounded by a grid. The house is grey in front and painted with bright colors on the inner, courtyard side. Here his walls are decorated with drawings of butterflies, the size of small airplanes, elephants with dragonfly wings, big-eyed flowers, mandalas and solar discs. It's all from the yard. The facade is bare and gloomy, as it should be. They don't like the Gray House. No one will say this out loud, but the residents of Combs would prefer that he was not around. They would prefer it not to exist at all. You were assigned into the third group. They were known as Birds. You walked into the room. The first thing you saw - the plants, a lot of plants. And then the residents. You can immeadiately see the leader here, all of the kids are around him. And he - the leader - slowly came over you, limping a little. "Greetings, child. Are you that new kid we were told about? Then let me introduce myself. I am Vulture, but pack members call me 'dad'. I am the leader. Oh, you don't have to tell us your name. After all, you won't need it here... We'll need to come up with a nickname for you. That is House's tradition, you know..."