Revolutions

58 - Atoyaqtli

Author's Note: Hey there! I hope you're having an incredible day/week/month/year!
So I've been rocking nonstop for over six months, but with the holiday season upon us here in "The States", I've become ultra-busy with spending time with my family. Therefore, I've decided to actually (finally) take a little break. But fear not! It'll only be for the following week; I shall return with a new chapter on January 2nd! I'm looking forward to seeing you next year!

"You've been saying that since we left those cursed woods," Chiqama groans.

"It doesn't make it any less true," Naqispi points out. "This scar is going to buy me somany ales when we return to Sanqo."

With his finger, he traces the long, deep scar that mars his face, bandaged by a torn piece of Chiqama's turquoise clothing, now bespeckled with the rusted red of dried blood. The mark was given to him during our encounter with Waqash, the cat-like beast that could render itself invisible. As I recount the creature's description and our battle with it, however, I reluctantly come around to Naqispi's point about how he'll never have to buy a beverage for himself ever again.

We've aimlessly wandered these lands, searching the high, rugged mountains, and the low, grassy plains. We've endured pounding rain, scorching heat, howling wind, and relentless nights. We've lost track of the number of days since we departed our revered leader, Siunqi, on the shores near Chalaqta. I won't speak for my men, but I know I'm exhausted, frustrated, and ready to turn around and head back to Sanqo so I can recover from my still aching wounds. Only my sense of duty drives me onward, hoping that we're close to finding any indication of the Sanqo princess, Walumaq.

We reach a shoreline where the soft hills enter the sea, the waves gently washing up along the rocky beach. Initially, Naqispi believes we've made a full circle, but Pomacha explains to him that we've only traveled in a southernly direction, making sure to emphasize that Naqispi's observation is incorrect. Likely due to exhaustion, Naqispi decides this is the moment he will pick a fight with the mighty and stoutly-built Pomacha, squaring up to confront our taciturn giant. With a single look, the large man quickly deescalates the situation, staring down his challenger until Naqispi, to his chagrin, backs away.

Using sticks pilfered from unsuspecting bushes, we observe the shadows' position and the sun's movement to eventually determine where on this vast continent we're located. This period also conveniently serves as a much-needed opportunity for rest, especially after Naqispi's near-confrontation left us all a bit tense. After some head-scratching and wild gesturing, we settle on traveling in a 'west-ish' direction—away from the meandering shoreline that, I'd assume, loops back to Chalaqta, the journey's origin. All the while, Chiqama grumbles about the day being wasted, earning him some less-than-amused glances and leading him to sulk silently to himself.

After countless days of trekking, our feet heavy and worn out, we reach a well-traveled road, the largest we've encountered since we were in the Tapeu coastal city. A debate arises, questioning whether we should go "left" or "right"—what I figure to be "south" versus "north"—and, thanks to being overwhelmingly tired, the discussion becomes rather heated. Before we come to blows, I step between the squabbling parties, suggesting we set up camp and make the determination in the morning. As if awaking from a trance, the three others look around at the surroundings and the setting sun, then at each other, and nod sleepily at no one in particular.

"Atoyaqtli." I hear the hushed voice of Chiqama as I groggily stir atop my bedroll. "Travelers, coming from the left."

With my eyes barely capable of opening, I tilt my head to inspect what Chiqama is attempting to show me. Sure enough, a group of maybe half a dozen people, with llamas tethered to small carts behind them, are gradually approaching our location. They're all dressed in knee-length tunics, dyed in a multitude of earthy tones and adorned with intricate geometric patterns. At the waist, wide belts of braided red and orange cloth carry a bevy of small tools and leather pouches. Each wears a small, rectangular cap, also in hues of red and orange, with tassels and small beads dangling along the perimeter.