Dwarf Mountains.
In the study of Bretta, the clan leader of the Zafa clan, the fire in the fireplace burned brightly.
Bretta Zafa leaned back against her chair, holding a theoretical plan on the precision removal of mycelium using runes.
Suddenly, the door was slammed open, and a small figure bundled in the cold wind rushed in, boots thumping on the floor.
"Grandma! Grandma!"
Bretta's brows furrowed but quickly relaxed. She placed the report on her lap and opened her arms to embrace the little dwarf rushing towards her.
Her grandson, with messy reddish-brown hair sticking out, had a nose frozen red and dirt smeared on his face from who knows where.
"Running so fast again, what if you fall?" Bretta pulled him into her arms, her rough fingers tidying the tangled hair.
