"Ah? Chief, what are you doing? Why have you taken out your dagger?... Ah! Why did you cut down the guide?... What? He was going to harm you? This is an ambush, and we have to flee at once?... Ah, but no one's even come out to chase us!... The clan went through untold hardship to get here precisely to seize this stockade, didn't we? Even if it's flying the Mexica People's banner, you said it yourself—what we're fighting is the Mexica People!..."
"Ah! Chief, slow down, run slower!... Three Gods! You said before we had to be brave, brave!... Ah! Chief, look back, look properly at that wooden stockade! There aren't many people on it at all, and it couldn't hide a great army!... The headman said it too, that stockade has been flying that Hummingbird Banner for years! On ordinary days, when they collect goods and trade, some of his people have been there... Inside, altogether, there are only a few hundred warriors and tribesmen!..."
"Ancestors! Chief, Uncle! Stop, stop! We don't have enough food, we can't last many days, we can only attack this stockade!... Even if we can't break it for the moment, we at least have to try, at least use up these thousand mixed tribes! Even if they're sent to die, turn mouths that eat into... Quick! Hold the chief, hold him down!!..."
The Tin River rolled on, flowing past the Feather Clan's resting camp, past the Lake Kingdom's Tin River Village harbor, and westward into the endless Western Sea. Feather Prince Penguari was covered in dust, his hair loose and feet bare; he had thrown away the long spear in his hand and the straw sandals hanging from his neck, and was being tightly held back by two clan bodyguards. He glared furiously