Chapter 7: Her Stats Points
The village was straight out of a history textbook—no, worse. It was pure Stone Age chaos.
Huts made of rough stone and dried leaves were scattered around, their entrances covered with animal hides.
Fires burned in the center of communal areas, crackling as they roasted chunks of meat.
Clay pots, crude wooden tools, and baskets overflowing with strange fruits lay around, and in the distance, women washed clothes in a river while kids ran around completely naked, screaming with joy.
Beastmen of all sizes filled the area—massive, towering warriors, lean and athletic hunters, older men with thick fur cloaks, and young, wild-eyed males who wrestled in the dirt like overgrown puppies.
There were females too—tall and striking, with fierce, untamed beauty. Their wild hair was thick and unbrushed, their sharp features bold and commanding.
And of course, there were babies—tiny, chubby little beast-kids with tails and fluffy ears, rolling around or clinging to their parents.
There was an energy to the village—cheerful, loud, wild.
And then there was Isabella.
Limping.
Struggling.