The tropical coast had no winter, only a long late autumn. And the summer's torrential rains would draw in during late autumn, gradually thinning out, until after the rain there was no trace left. Across the coast's emerald-green earth, too, the scenes of late autumn were everywhere.
In the fields, lush bean shoots were replenishing the earth with nitrogen-fixing vitality. Beside the farmland, flowers bloomed as if it were spring. And far away, above the sea and sky, came the songs of birds. The coastal Kestrels and white eagles soared high in the heavens, chasing one another as they flew into the distance.
"Yoo-yoo!"
The wind rolled the clouds away, and the birds' distant songs drifted on. Rain fell without a trace, and beneath the brush there was only spring scenery. In the courtyard brimming with spring, the snake woman Miawa lay lazily, eating the fruits and pastries the maids brought her, replenishing sugar and strength. Beside her, the scribe Irene was as quiet as a sleeping Mountain Cat. In the Mountain Cat's dream, a Red-bellied Squirrel from the Colima mountains was running free and unrestrained, even growing wings and flying through the sky.
"Sister Irene, wake up. Have something sweet!..."
The snake woman Miawa smiled brightly, in very good spirits, and pointed at the blanket spread out before her. A large circle of exquisite tropical fruits had been arranged on it. The scribe Irene drowsily opened her eyes, looked at the fruits before her, and could not help licking her lips like a hungry Mountain Cat.
"Mm... what are these?"
"Dune Guava, with brown skin and orange flesh. This kind of guava is the sweetest in all the world! One bite and you'll never forget it!... How is it? Good?"
"Mm... not sour, very sweet!... Good!"
The scribe Irene