Woolly Mammoth

After the fire that ended the Dominion, the world turned cold. Ice crept

across continents. Snow buried forests. And from the frozen north, the first

new giants emerged. The Woolly Mammoth walked the glacial plains in herds

so vast they darkened the horizon — shaggy, immense, crowned with tusks that

curved like the ribs of a fallen god. Where the mammoths walked, the world

remembered what it meant to tremble beneath great footsteps. But these were

not the reckless titans of the Primordia, nor the sun-warmed giants of the

Dominion. The mammoths were built for endurance. Thick wool against the

killing cold. Layers of fat against the endless winter. A social bond so

strong that herds protected their young with a ferocity that gave even

Smilodon pause. They did not conquer the ice. They lived within it — the

first great creatures to prove that the world did not need to be warm to

be full of life. The ice age belonged to them, and they carried it with

the quiet dignity of something that has already survived the worst.