In the tropical lowland rainforest, spring always came earlier than one imagined. At the start of April, spring lay deep. The season when all things multiplied flew in on the songs of a hundred birds.
The Red Sparrows of the Americas sang in "angry" delight, trilling and warbling, spreading their red-and-black feathers to attract the drab gray females. They occupied their own "treetops," drove off males that crossed the line, and even took their own shadows for rivals in courtship, "dueling" the air without end.
"Ekat, the chiefs of the coastal tribes are these clamorous Red Sparrows. They rack their brains and do all they can to occupy their own treetops, but their vision reaches only the tiny bit right before their eyes."
Xolotl stood on a small hill, gazing out at the rainforest to the east. Desolate Golden Bay City lay on the shore to the northeast, while the vast Adobe River was right beneath his feet. At that moment, as he looked across the great river, he saw large groups of surrendered soldiers transporting grain, struggling into the lush green jungle—then startling up red birds that chased one another across the sky.
Several hundred Dog-kin warriors, armored and armed, watched over the surrendered tribal troops transporting baggage and supplies. Now and then, a scouting Red-hair Hunter would lightly pinch up a Bone Arrow and loose it with precision into the Sky, bringing down a small bird that could be roasted.
"These Totonac chiefs are always unwilling to obediently submit and fight for the Kingdom to win merit! Only when the army arrives and the hunters draw their bows and shoot do they learn how small they are, and how close death has come!"
A scout came from the west, drenched in sweat, bringing the latest report. Xolotl lifted