Sunset fell on Warrior Lake, casting this land of Tamaulipas in the Huastec tongue—the "place divided by mountains"—in a dazzling, boundless glow.
In truth, this was where three great terrains met: to the south lay the Huastec jungle along the coast; to the west, the great Tlaxcala wasteland divided by mountains; and to the north, the far end of the North American Great Plains. Judging by its open, level terrain, this Red Crow Land, filled with hunting tribes, should lean more toward the North American Great Plains. Vast plains spread out in rolling stretches of sparse trees and tall grass, endless all the way to the distant north.
Old militiaman Chiwako looked at the sunset and gazed across the vast earth. He spoke softly, his fingers clenched tight.
"Chipawa... once we reach Otter City, you... you're leaving? You... won't stay with me a little longer?"
"Yeah! Uh... Dad... well..."
Wasteland Warrior Chipawa scratched his head. There was some reluctance on his face, but he still nodded and answered.
"Dad! I want to spend more time with you too... but Sister Alan said we're continuing the Northern Expedition after autumn... It's already late in the seventh month. Going to Otter City and back takes more than a month, so that'll be September! Then after we make preparations and train the tribal warriors in the unit, we'll have to go north to campaign!... Time is really tight..."
"Continuing the Northern Expedition after autumn... going to war again..."
The old militiaman was silent for a while. Looking at the yearning expression on his son's face, he could only sigh in the end.
"All right! Get a good sleep tonight... Tomorrow morning, we'll set out..."
Night bid farewell to the camp, and morning brought sunlight. Alan stood at the entrance of the tent, wearing