Chapter 8 - Tamara
Before Tamara met Birch, she lived alone in a narrow valley where the river curved like a silver ribbon beneath steep, mossy cliffs. She had built herself a shelter from driftwood and thick river reeds, hidden under the shade of willow trees. The sun rose and set in front of her door, and she had no one but the birds and fish to keep her company.
Tamara came from the Solari Tribe, a proud people who lived along the wide southern rivers, known for their skill in fishing and their deep reverence for the sun. Every member of the tribe bore a golden sun tattooed on their back when they came of age—Tamara's shone brightest of all, its rays wrapping across her shoulders like flames.
But Tamara was different. Too different.
Even as a child, her ability to catch fish had been uncanny. She could dive into turbulent waters and emerge with a rare sturgeon in her arms. She whispered to the river as if it answered back. Once, she brought in more fish in a single morning than the rest of the tribe could gather in a week. The elders began to speak of her in hushed tones.
"She speaks with the current," one whispered.
"She listens to something we cannot hear," another murmured.
By the time she reached young adulthood, the people began to avoid her. Some called her touched by the spirits, others said she was cursed. They feared that the river had given her something too powerful, something unnatural. And so, one night, Tamara left without a word, barefoot and silent, walking upriver with only a spear and a satchel of herbs.
"I will live where the river bends," she said softly to the moon above. "And I will need no one."
And for many seasons, she didn’t.
She was content. She smoked fish over fire, made dyes from wild berries, and carved her stories into the bark of trees. When she was lonely, she sang. When she was angry, she swam upstream until her arms ached. She saw other tribes from time to time, but never stayed long. None dared come too close.
Chapter 9 - Trading Post
Every few months she went to the trading post to sell some fish she caught in exchange for herbs, fruits or furs to survive in the winters. But this time was different. She saw him again. And she remembered. It was that day when she was cast out from the Solari tribe, she wandered alone for days, hungry and weary, until she stumbled upon a secluded spring hidden deep in the forest. The water shimmered strangely in the light. She drank deeply—something inside her shifted, a rush of warmth spreading through her limbs. She felt alive, almost reborn… yet she told herself it was only the relief of quenching her thirst.
She made a small camp nearby, drawn to the spring’s quiet beauty, and stayed until one night, a sound broke the stillness—painful, ragged breaths, and the faint snapping of twigs. Following the noise into the woods near the spring, she found a man collapsed on the ground, torn and bleeding from savage wolf bites. His life was ebbing fast.
Without thinking, she cupped her hands in the spring and poured its water into his mouth.
She didn’t know it yet, but in that moment, she had created the first werewolf—and changed the course of the Grandarbre legacy forever.
And from that moment, her story would never be her own again.
Chapter 10 - Knowing the family
Tamara and Birch were inseparable. At first they were secretly meeting at hers or near the statue of Fertility God, but as soon as Birch told to parents about Tamara, they wanted to know her.
His family was happy with her, because no one else wanted to be near them. They helped each other.
She was giving advices to Aspen how to fish, even in the winter.
Aura taught her where to find the best seeds and how to plant them. And they let her stay during harsh winters.
After few months she realised that she is pregnant, but didn't want to live in the place where Death was frequent visitor. She went to the Fertility God to pray for Birch, his sister Belladonna and the new life growing inside her.
Chapter 11 - The New Place
Tamara and Birch wandered for weeks, searching for a place to call their own. At last, they found it—a sheltered cave tucked against a hillside, with a stream trickling nearby and plenty of open ground for planting. It felt safe, hidden, and theirs.
A small, scruffy dog was there, wagging his tail and looking hopeful. Tamara laughed the first time he stole a berry from her basket.
“He’s got spirit,” Birch said, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “We should keep him.”
They named him
Menelaus, and soon he was part of their little family, chasing sticks, guarding the garden, and curling up by the fire at night.
Only Belladonna, Birch’s younger sister, chose to remain in the old family cave.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright here alone?” Birch asked, his brow furrowed.
Belladonna smiled faintly. “This place still feels like home to me. Go and make yours.”
On the first day in their new home, Birch knelt before the bare earth, pressing a sapling into the soil.
“This will be our Ancestral Tree,” he said, patting the ground. “It will watch over all who come after us.”
Tamara touched the leaves gently. “Then may it grow as strong as the love that planted it.”
Following Aura’s advice, Tamara began her own garden, arranging rows of herbs and berries.
“You remembered everything I told you,” Aura had said before they left.
“I remembered,” Tamara murmured to herself, smiling as she worked the soil.
As summer waned and the air grew crisp with the first hints of autumn, Birch wrapped his arms around Tamara.
“Looks like the garden isn’t the only thing growing,” he said softly. That night she stared peacefully into the flames, knowing that Birch was the right man. She felt safe and loved.
When the time came, he encouraged her, was with her during the labor.
And so, under the turning leaves, their first child—Clover—was born, the next heir of the Grandarbre legacy.
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