As darkness fell, the most important hour of the clan fire arrived.
Early evening was the time of the shared clan meal—the hour of warmth, laughter, and ritual. It was when stories were told, songs were sung, and the fire burned the brightest against the dark sky. Its crackling flames were both a ward against the shadows and a silent promise that they had survived one more day.
The fading sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple as the clans prepared the feast. Large pots boiled over the open flames, thick steam rising in fragrant waves. The scent of roasted meat mixed with herbs and spices filled the air, while baskets of fruits and roots were brought forward to be shared.
Warriors, elders, and children gathered near the fire, chatting and laughing, grateful to still be alive.
