Village Feast

The sky was clear and cloudless, and the sea breeze blew gently past. Between the sandy beach and the tidal flats, the leaves of the palm trees swayed with the wind. Flocks of birds soared between sea and sky, and trout gathered and scattered along the shore. January on the tropical coast was just such a warm, moist, comfortable scene.

The three thousand Dog-kin troops rested in Nespa for a day, then continued east. The warriors marched along the coast, kicking up waves of dust. Word of the northern invasion gradually spread, and many villages ahead had fled until they were empty, leaving only crude settlements behind. The villages that dared resist stubbornly were all taken, one after another turning into torches by the sea.

After half a month without a major battle, Black Wolf's mood also relaxed. There were no pursuers behind them and no enemies ahead; add to that more than ten days of provisions transported by dugout canoe, and the dangerous sweep behind enemy lines had turned into an easy armed march.

Everyone slowed their pace, and in four days they traveled only a hundred and twenty li, arriving at the little village where the guard Mavik had been born—Trout Village, present-day La Mira.

From here, it was only forty or fifty li to the mouth of the Talsas River. And going upstream from the river mouth, another two or three hundred li would bring them to the broad Atoyac Lake. In other words, the kingdom was already not far away.

Black Wolf held his head high and chest out, wearing light leather armor and gripping a sharp Bronze Sword. He stood on a high spot and barked orders to the two thousand Dog-kin in the central army.

"The central army will split into teams of three