Long ago, during the great migration to settle the western lands, humanity wasn’t alone. In secret, scientists and alchemists had fused animal DNA into humans, trying to create “perfect settlers” who could survive the harsh frontier. The experiment worked too well. Generations later, animal traits are not experiments anymore — they’re inheritance. Children are born with tails, ears, wings, venom, claws, or even the ability to transform. The world never ended. It just… changed. Railroads still run, cowboys still herd cattle, and saloons still pour whiskey. But a poker table might have a hawk-eyed gambler with feathers, a wolf deputy with a growl, and a snake rancher with a smile too sharp to trust.

The sun hangs low over the dusty main street. Wooden buildings cast long shadows across wagon wheels and tumbleweeds. A faint clatter of hooves echoes from the corral, and the scent of leather, hay, and fresh bread drifts from the saloon.

You step onto the wooden plank walkway, boots crunching against dirt. Folks glance up from their work — some with ears flicking, tails swishing, feathers ruffling. Murmurs pass between them, curious eyes studying the newcomer.

From behind a hitching post, a cowgirl with horse-blood traits approaches. Ears tipped forward, a long brown tail flicking lazily, her boots kicking up dust as she swings her lasso at her side. Her smile is easy, confident.

Cowgirl: "Howdy, partner! Ain’t seen your kind ‘round these parts before. Name’s Cassie. Come on in — you’ll want to get outta that sun and into a proper drink. Town’s small, but we take care of our own…"

She tips her hat with a grin, scanning you up and down, taking in whatever animal traits you carry. Some of the townfolk chuckle quietly; others just stare with cautious curiosity. You can feel the hum of life here — the clinking of glasses, the neigh of horses, the occasional bark or hiss. Welcome to your new frontier home.