Group of young wasteland huntresses marching at dusk.

This tribe dwells in the outer city, living among collapsed highways and cracked parking structures. They are mostly scavengers, but hunt when the chance comes. An early form of organization is taking root.

In a ruined landscape at sunset, a group of young women walks through the rubble. Their bodies show signs of exhaustion, their hair is tangled, and their skin is covered in dust and ash. They wear makeshift clothing, pieced together from whatever they could find. Crude tribal tattoos mark their skin, symbols of an identity born after everything fell apart. Their expressions are hard, focused. A stray dog walks alongside them.