The sun sets and the moon rises, and in the blink of an eye, another two days have passed. The round moon ascends to the middle of the sky, its light falling like water. The northern high mountains, the fortresses on the mountains, the southern long river, the boats on the river... and the sprawling Mexica army camps in between, all lie silent under the moonlit night, temporarily hiding the cruel slaughter and bloodshed in peace.
As the night deepens, Xiulote sits cross-legged in the main tent of the camp. Beside him is the Guard Commander Ecatl, who is responsible for grinding ink, but Nashu is nowhere to be seen.
"Such a strange little vixen! Two months ago, she was flirting in every possible way, but these past two months, she's been all sneaky and elusive..."
Xiulote glanced at the loyal and steadfast Guard Commander by his side, feeling inexplicably a bit of complaint.
