The night was deep, the moon high in the sky. The cool, ethereal lunar radiance fell from the open roof of the Totonac hut, directly onto the faces of the two individuals inside. Under this ghostly moonlight, their expressions were somewhat heavy, with a hint of obscurity.
"All Gods! The Aztecs have a fleet, returning from the East?"
Upon hearing the words of the Feathered Serpent Priest, Chuchute the Chieftain was startled, a blank expression on his face. About a year ago, he vaguely remembered the Mexica fleet that passed by along the coast. But the Snake Lake Tribe was always poor; trading in gemstones and such had nothing to do with a destitute chieftain like him. What he distinctly remembered was standing far off by the seaside, watching those long, sail-equipped ships, even larger than the Maya merchant oar-sail ships!
"Papu Priest, when did this happen? The tribe hasn't heard any news...?..."
