In the harsh, barren lands of the Godoka kingdom, the Ironwood Clan's permanent settlement finally appeared.
Long, rough-hewn wooden fences had been pulled up, forming a formidable protective boundary against the wilderness and the lurking threats.
Inside the compound, life was following its quiet, necessary rhythm. The women were busy with their chores—tanning hides, stirring pots over communal fires—while the younger children ran around the perimeter, their laughter echoing against the wood.
Above, in the hastily constructed fence towers, a few vigilant men kept a sharp eye out in the surrounding scrubland.
One of the tower guards suddenly leaned forward, squinting. He spotted a cloud of dust and then the distinct, slow movement of a crowd arriving from the distance.
At first, the figures were indistinct, but as they drew nearer, he recognized the imposing frame of his Chief and the familiar gait of his tribesmen.
