Homes Through Ages

Early Civilization

Clover & Paloma

Bronze Age 

Birch & Tamara

Stone Age 

Aspen & Aura

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.

Bronze Age 2.gen./part 1

 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.