September was half over, and the rainy season was drawing to an end. In the fertile fields of the Tehuacan Valley, emerald green wove together with gold, and the maize already showed signs of a rich harvest. North and south of the valley, everything brimmed with life—only the busy crowds were gone.
Flocks of Painted Buntings dropped from the sky, boldly perching on the maize. They shook their brilliant crests, broke through the tender green husks, and pecked again and again at the kernels that had just ripened. Ring-tailed Raccoons also emerged from the mountain forests, wearing faces both foolishly cute and mournful, cautiously stretching out their long arms to steal ears of maize from the fields.
The rough Peccaries cared nothing for all that. In herds, they rushed out of the muddy swamps, their bodies reeking with a stink that would not be driven away. Mesoamerican peccaries were also called "Collared Peccaries (tuan)" and "Skunk Pigs." Their appearance resembled the wild boars of the Old World, but they were slightly smaller, with sharp tusks and even stronger aggression.
Rather than calling this kind of Skunk Pig a "pig," it would be better to call it a "skunk." The stench of their meat was so foul that even tribal folk accustomed to eating insects and ants found it hard to swallow. Likewise, they were extremely numerous and had formidable fighting strength. Without the terrifying two-legged beasts, they had almost no natural enemies in the southern mountain forests. At this moment, this herd of Peccaries charged into the maize fields, using their powerful thick hooves to root down the mature plants, then feasting in great mouthfuls.
"Woo!... Woo!"
A desolate horn suddenly sounded behind the southern valley, startling up a cloud of birds. The raccoons swung their long tails, hugged their