Chapter 2: Captive

"You fools, injuring yourselves against such a small settlement!" before Xiulote, Jaguar Olosh was explosive with fury, roaring at several warriors scratched by long spears and short arrows.

"Don't just stand there, treat your wounds; smear them with agave juice and apply the ink tree leaves. If chosen by the God of Death Xiulotel, you might just rot on your way back through the rainforest!"

Upon hearing this, the warriors took out their prepared small sacks of henequen cloth and began to treat one another's wounds with these natural remedies.

As a classic militaristic society with decades of warfare, the Aztec city-states had developed effective methods for dealing with injuries, utilizing antibacterial plants like agave and the ink tree.

"And you, why tie up these old men and children? Carrying them on your back through the rainforest for days? Release them, all the old men, children, and frail women. That way, next time there's a great sacrifice, we can capture more people."

"Captain Olosh, here's a hunter with an injured leg."

"Hmm?" Olosh glanced at the tribal hunter on the ground, and Xiulote finally regained some focus, looking toward the hunter.

The hunter, around thirty years old, had a weather-beaten face. He slightly lowered his eyes, his left leg twisted unnaturally, while a long spear and a single bow lay scattered beside his right leg. He curled up, silent, leaning near the fire pit.

Olosh walked closer, kicking the spear on the ground away. He then glanced at the man's slightly curled hand and calluses, his pupils dilating slightly as he reached for the Obsidian Club. "We can't keep this one! Marley, you've just been shot by an arrow from the hunters, deal with this hunter yourself."

"Yes, captain," a warrior with leaves on his right shoulder replied as he approached with a war club, his face wearing a cruel smile. He swung the club viciously down at the hunter on the ground.

As the war club swung down, the hunter's right leg suddenly kicked out, springing up from the ground like a hunting dog. His right arm extended, and at some point, he had obtained a bone arrowhead, which he drove straight toward Marley's neck.

Marley recoiled in horror, swinging his war club into empty air.

Just as the arrowhead was about to penetrate his neck, an Obsidian War Club beat first. First the club slapped down on the hunter's arm, instantly twisting it off target, and then the club spiked forward, striking the hunter's chin with a crack as a bone snapped.

Xiulote then saw the hunter's eyes widen suddenly, those familiar eyes of hatred. The war club broke the hunter's neck, and his head tilted as his body fell powerlessly to the mud.

Marley recovered, angrily beating the body on the ground, the body swaying like a tattered doll under the blows of the stone club.

Xiulote heard a stifled cry and saw nearby where the children were, a slender body twitching. An eleven or twelve-year-old girl was crying while looking at the hunter on the ground.

"Enough!" Xiulote, fluctuating in his emotions, finally could not hold back, "Stop, he is already dead! What honor is there in tormenting the body of a brave warrior?"

Marley whipped around, glaring at Xiulote with eyes that gleamed like a bloodthirsty wolf's.

"Stop, turkey!" Olosh frowned, "Be more alert next time. Go do something useful, tie up the young captives together."

Only then did Marley stop, glaring at Xiulote once more before turning to leave.

"Xiulote, how was today's hunt?" Olosh strode forward, patting the young man's shoulder fondly.

"Xiulote took down a prospective warrior today, his shield thrust was excellent," Ters stepped forward to answer.

"Good!" Olosh finally smiled, nodding, "Ters, go count the captives, those two over there are for you. Xiulote, what are you doing?"

Xiulote crouched down, gazed into the lifeless eyes for a moment, then slowly closed the hunter's eyes. The crying nearby seemed only to grow louder.

Olosh, observing Xiulote's actions, sighed lightly, "Alright, he was a warrior worthy of respect. Xiulote, do not waste time on the dead enemy."

Xiulote nodded silently, unsure whether he was responding to a particular sentence from Olosh or perhaps none at all.

"Captain, I've counted them, there are 'one palm of two palms minus one palm' of suitable captives," Ters ran back excitedly to report.

"5 times 10 minus 5, that's 45," Xiulote calculated silently in his mind.

This tribe had at most just over a hundred people, losing 45 young men and women at once, along with a few dead in battle, was almost a complete devastation.

The remaining fifty or so elderly, weak, sick, and disabled, how long could they survive in this fierce jungle? Even if they struggled on temporarily, within a decade or two, when their vitality was restored, they would again be targeted by capture squads, continuing this bloody cycle.

"In this era of brutal slaughter, what can I possibly do?" Xiulote thought silently as he watched the burning settlement.

"Great! Each of us has about two or three captives, we can prepare to head back," Olosh nodded vigorously, shouting loudly, "The battle is over! Now, you can find some amusement on your own. But remember, turkeys: do not kill any of the sacrifices we can take back!"

The samurai thunderously acknowledged the order, swiftly unfastened their shields from their left arms, and inserted their obsidian clubs behind their backs. They searched and then, with broad smiles, hoisted a captive each and walked toward the dark forest.

Xiulote suddenly noticed Marley, that cruel samurai, directly approaching the crying girl.

"Marley, what are you doing!" Seeing such a helpless girl and thinking about the fate she faced, Xiulote truly became angry. The youth rushed forward, vigorously raised his shield, and blocked Marley.

"That old hound almost stabbed me to death with an arrowhead!" Marley also roared back, "I want to get back at him through his daughter!"

"Scoundrel, you coward! A coward who picks on children!" Xiulote yelled furiously.

"What did you say!" Marley's eyes turned red in an instant, and he reached for his war club on his back. Being called a coward was the most despicable insult in the warrior-prizing Mexica society.

"Do not draw weapons against your own people!" A roaring voice came through. "Jaguar," like a wild beast, rushed over, held Xiulote back with his left hand, and yanked with his right hand so hard that Marley staggered back, nearly flung away.

"Xiulote, what's going on here?" Olosh separated them, looking displeased at Xiulote.

"Marley was about to harm that girl."

"That girl is that hound's..."

"Shut up!" Olosh turned his head and yelled. His face was angrier than ever before. "Marley, I don't care what you want to do, but you do not raise your hand against your own people!"

"Xiulote is a warrior, and soon he will be a revered priest! War priests are sacred in the army; you must respect his will, especially over such trivial matters! Apologize to him."

"But Xiulote is only twelve years old..."

"Apologize to him, Makali!"

"I'm sorry, Xiulote, I was wrong," Makali mumbled with his head low, his expression hidden. He forced out the apologies word by word, then cast a fierce glance at the girl hiding in the corner, and turned to leave.

Olosh watched Makali leave with an angry look. He then turned, looked at Xiulote, and barely smiled.

"Well done, Xiulote. Challenging a stronger warrior is the path of a samurai. These warriors are all untamable wolves; only by becoming stronger than all can you become a Jaguar who commands them."

Then Olosh glanced at the girl shrinking in the corner, "This girl is too young and too frail to take back to the City-State. Whatever you want to do, just do it here."

After hearing this, Xiulote nodded, stepped forward, and the girl, frightened, shrank back.

The youth simply took a piece of cotton from his pocket, wiped the girl's face clean of tears and dirt, and saw an unexpectedly beautiful small face.

He was slightly surprised, then took off the food pouch from his waist and placed it in the girl's hands; it felt ice-cold. After a thought, he also took off his cape and draped it over the girl.

"Leave this place! Head north, the farther the better, and do not come back."

The beautiful girl seemed to forget to cry. She stared blankly at Xiulote, unsure if she understood.

The boy then nodded gently and smiled warmly at the girl.

"Thank you, sir." Xiulote turned back but saw no one; Olosh had already left. The other children had also hidden away sometime earlier.

Remnants of his past life's tenderness surfaced in the youth's heart. He took off the obsidian dagger from his waist, placed it on the ground, and gave one last look at the girl before silently turning and leaving.

"May I hide all my tenderness here, and then truly face this world! Everything can change, I can, and so can the world," the boy sighed softly. Then, he stood tall, his face set with determination.

As if he had gone through a kind of rite of passage, Xiulote strode forward. Behind him, the girl's crying sounded again.

This time, the boy did not look back. He, like a newly born juvenile tiger, walked towards the jungles of Central America, facing the destined bloody future!