Thunder and Heavenly Fire

The day hurried by, and in the blink of an eye, deep night had fallen again. Bonfires were lit along the stretching mountain ridge, extending for several miles. More than a dozen tribes and thousands of Dog-kin warriors camped in the open, sleeping amid the mingling of darkness and firelight, just like the tangled jumble of the various tribal camps.

Cold dew beaded the green moss, and the night wind was silent. In the quiet night, Alan suddenly woke with a start. Like an alert mountain cat, she shot upright and looked around, a sharp Obsidian dagger already in her hand.

"Mm?"

There was nothing around her, only the Red-hair Tribe members sleeping in their grass nests. During the day, the Mexica camp below the mountain had held a grand ceremony to offer sacrifice to the gods, and mysterious prayers had echoed all day long. The tribal warriors had stood tense guard for an entire day, and now they were all sleeping rather heavily. Farther off, at the edge of the camp, a few scouts kept scattered watch, though it was impossible to tell which tribe they belonged to.

Alan was a little puzzled. She touched her forehead and did not feel sick. The young huntress swept her gaze around the rear camp again, then paused.

In the dim night, a man sat leaning against a short tree a dozen steps away, almost fused into one with the tree. Alan narrowed her eyes and silently reached for her hunting bow.

"Alan, it's me."

A familiar voice came over. The man lifted his head, revealing his mutilated left ear.

"Father?"

Alan let out a breath of relief. She slung the bow across her back, stood up, and went closer.

"Father, what are you doing?"

"I felt uneasy, so I woke up