Bronze Age 2.gen./part 2

Chapter 12 - Growing Garden&Family

Tamara’s garden thrived like a living tapestry, growing richer and larger with each passing year. What began as a modest patch of herbs and berries soon spread across the sunlit clearing—rows of leafy greens, tall stalks heavy with grain, and fruit trees bending under their own weight. She tended it with a perfectionist’s care, her hands knowing every plant as if they were her own children. Birch built her a fence to protect it against wild animals.

Clover, their firstborn, inherited more than his father’s bright eyes—he was a werewolf too. Birch often took him to the woods, teaching him to run under the moonlight and to control the wildness in his blood.
“You’ll learn to use it well,” Birch would tell him. “It’s not a curse, it’s a gift.”
Clover, still small, would grin and howl softly, just to make Menelaus bark in excitement.

Tamara was careful and every time the good things happend, she went to Fertility God to thank him. 

By the time Clover was three, the garden stretched nearly to the stream, and Tamara could work there from dawn to dusk without reaching its end. She often paused to watch Clover chasing Menelaus between the rows, his laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves.

That autumn, Tamara’s steps grew slower, her hands resting more often on her growing belly. Birch noticed first.
“So… we’re expecting?” he asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and joy.

Tamara smiled, brushing dirt from her hands. “A girl this time,” she said. “I can feel it.”

Months later, in the warmth of spring, Colby was born—a tiny bundle swaddled in soft furs, her cry echoing under the open sky. And so, the Grandarbre family grew once more.

Tamara’s days soon became a careful dance between tending her garden and trying new skills she had never dared before. One afternoon, she set a block of river stone on a flat surface and began chipping at it with a sharpened tool Birch had made. The work was rough at first, but she liked the way the stone gave way under her strikes—slowly revealing shapes her mind could almost see before they were real.

Clover, now older, had taken on the role of protective big brother. He would sit in the grass beside little Colby, stacking pebbles into small towers while she tried to knock them over with delighted giggles. Menelaus was never far, sometimes plopping down beside them as if he too was guarding the youngest member of the family.

One crisp autumn day, Birch and Tamara took a break from their chores, wandering together into the woods where leaves carpeted the earth in gold and red. They laughed, chasing each other through the drifts, until their play turned into something slower, warmer. Nestled in a pile of leaves, under the scent of earth and smoke, they shared a moment of deep closeness.

Weeks later, Tamara’s hands instinctively went to her stomach, her eyes meeting Birch’s with a knowing smile.

“Again?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Again,” she confirmed.

The Grandarbre legacy was about to welcome its third child.

Chapter 13 - Til the End of Era

Tamara found herself glowing through this pregnancy in a way she never had before. Every morning she would step into her garden, hands brushing over the new shoots and blossoms, breathing in the sweet scent of life all around her. Butterflies seemed to love her now more than ever, drifting lazily between flowers and landing on her hair or hands as if she were part of the garden itself.

Birch, meanwhile, had entered his elder years. His hair had turned silver, his face lined with the marks of a life well-lived—but his strength hadn’t faded. In fact, Clover learned this the hard way during a friendly bout of condition fighting. Birch moved like the wolf still lived fiercely in him, sweeping his son’s legs from under him before pinning him with a grin.

“Still got it,” Birch said, helping Clover up.

“Yeah, yeah… old wolf,” Clover muttered, though his grin matched his father’s.

It was a season of warmth and laughter, and for Tamara, the most beautiful time of her life.

Clay was born in the height of summer, when the air was warm and the days stretched long. With another child added to their growing family, Birch and Clover decided it was time to expand—together they built a small wooden shack beside the cave, giving everyone more space.

As the years passed, the family settled into their rhythms. Colby often played with little Clay, splashing together in puddles after rainstorms until their feet were covered in mud. 

Clover, to everyone’s surprise, found himself enjoying gardening with Tamara far more than sparring with his father. But one autumn afternoon, in a friendly match, Clover finally bested Birch for the first time—an event that left them both laughing breathlessly in the fresh snow.

Colby had her own favorite pastime—befriending small forest creatures. Squirrels, chipmunks, and even brave little birds would linger near her hands, nibbling seeds she offered.

Time, however, never stopped. One crisp evening, the family gathered in the fading light as death came quietly for Birch, the first heir of the Grandarbre legacy, leaving behind the strength of his bloodline and the roots of his Ancestral Tree.