Another World's Small Island.
A light snowfall more than ten days ago had announced the arrival of winter's harshest days.
The animals on the island had grown scarcer by the day.
Many had already begun hibernating early.
Winter in the Tam World was hard to endure. It was also a cruel elimination and selection process. Many old, weak, sick, and disabled barbarians would die during the winter, either because they could not get enough food or because they could not withstand the bone-chilling cold, leaving only the stronger barbarians to survive.
Although true winter was still some time away, in the past, the tribe would have been frantically scraping together every scrap of food it could find.
But now, the tribe had already brought all its possessions and moved into the cellar built to withstand the winter.
No one knew when this cellar had been built. It was a precious relic left behind after the tribe's distant ancestors dug it out and expanded it generation after generation. It was enormous, covering tens of thousands of square meters, and quite a few doodles remained on the surrounding rock walls.
They were masterpieces created by bored barbarians.
A great many of them had been left behind by their ancestors.
The howling of the cold wind was as shrill as the cries of ghosts and wolves.
But inside, the atmosphere was hot and lively.
The tribe had yet to invent a way to use fire, so the cellar was pitch-black. However, the barbarians, who had long since grown accustomed to it, felt no discomfort. Besides, some things did not require light in the first place.
Pairs of men and women writhed together in the cellar.
Gasps and screams blended into one.
The air was thick with the scent of hormones.
Winter was not