The starry night sky enveloped the vast camp. A little bonfire, rising invisible smoke. The fragrance of food wafts throughout the Red Crow "city". The atmosphere that spreads and blends everywhere is like an open-air barbecue on the entire street.
"Russian...it smells so good!...What kind of chief is this? He doesn't even care about dinner..."
Chihuaco, the old militiaman, sniffed, swallowed, and touched his hungry belly. He muttered and walked towards Chippawa's hut, while greeting the absent-minded Mekkat priest next to him.
"Meikat...Meikat!"
"Ah! Huh?"
Priest Mecat looked around nervously, as if he had just woken up from a dream. It wasn't until he turned his head and saw the old face of the old militiaman looking at him that he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Lord God! Captain Qi...it turns out to be you..."
"What were you thinking about just now?"
"No!...I didn't think about it..."
Hearing this, the old militiaman raised his eyebrows. He looked at Mercat's pale face and said nothing more, just asking about the conversation not long ago.
"What nonsense did you talk about just now? What dagger, name, Your Majesty?... The female chief in the mask later turned her eyes red, like a female leopard about to bite someone..."
"I didn't, it wasn't me!...Uh..."
"Say it! There is no one else. I will think about it for you..."
"Um…"
Priest Mecat pulled his hair in a rare move and pulled off a handful. He looked confused and expressed his distress.
"Lord God! It's so strange... This female chief of the wasteland seems to have known His Majesty ten years ago... She also has a dagger engraved with His Majesty's name, which seems to have been given to her by His Majesty..."
"Ah? The dagger with the name engraved on it, given by His Majesty?..."
Hearing this, the old militiaman's eyes widened and he imagined many plots in an instant.
"The blind one!... He's everywhere..."
"Hush!...Captain Qi! When you return to the camp, don't talk nonsense about this to the crew!"
"I know!...Two leopards, a male and a female, are either biting or barking!...Looking at the look on the female chief's face, I guess it must be something like that..."
"Well!…"
Hearing this, Priest Mecat broke out in sweat on his forehead. He looked around, then stretched out his hand fiercely and blocked the old militiaman's mouth.
"Damn it! Shut up! Where did this nonsense come from? If the terrible female chief hears it, we won't even think about going back!..."
"I made it up myself, just tell me if it's right or not!..."
The two returned to the hut, where the crew had prepared dinner. Everyone had a feast of corn and pumpkin, as well as some fresh fish caught in the lake. Food in Red Crow City does not seem to be in short supply, at least the soldiers have enough to eat. Chipawa, the wasteland warrior, was not in the camp and did not know where he had gone.
The stars were spinning in the night, and there was no words to say all night. It wasn't until early the next morning that a group of dog descendants came from the king's tent in the center to guard everyone and not allow them to wander around. Afterwards, teams of hundreds of dog-born people, holding spears and copper axes, carrying bows and arrows and throwing spears, gathered in the main square of the Red Crow City Sacrifice!
Chihuaco, an old militiaman, watched from a distance and saw only the female chief wearing a mask ascending the high platform for sacrifice. Then, one of the powerful dog-born captains knelt down in front of the high platform and saluted the female chief on the high platform.
Further back, the masked female chief shouted loudly and took off the big bow from behind. She aimed at the big bird flying in the sky, and suddenly shot it with an arrow. The bird immediately fell down. It was an unparalleled shot!
Seeing the bravery of the female chief, thousands of dog warriors cheered excitedly. And listening to the slogans they chanted, it was clearly a title that was repeated over and over again.
"The eagle shooter, Alan! The eagle shooter, Alan!..."
"Ancestors witness! Gods bless you! You all must be prepared!..."
Alan raised his head proudly, raised the big bow in his hand, and shouted loudly to declare.
"After the autumn harvest! The tribal army goes north again to conquer the tribes of Coahuík! We must clear the south bank of the Bravo River, go deep into the upper reaches of the river, and make every tribe we encounter surrender to our army! They must surrender Women, hand over your young men, hand over the harvested grain, as a reward for the warriors who fought bravely!..."
"And when I return from the Northern Expedition, I will establish ten more elite Centuries to exempt them from tribute! And the captains of these Centuries will be the ten most outstanding warriors with the most military exploits! ...Ouch!"
"Ouch! Roar!..."
The wild cheers and howls of the canine descendants came from afar, sending a chill down the back of the old militiamen. He searched for a while and finally saw his son among the tattooed captains. Chippawa, the wasteland warrior, blushed, waved his arms wildly, and roared wilder than anyone else.
"Hey! This idiot..."
The old militiaman sighed, shrank his neck, and returned to the hut. It was not until the evening of this day that Chippawa, the wilderness warrior, returned from the center of the camp smelling of alcohol.
"Hiccup! Dad, haven't you had dinner yet?"
"Eat, eat, eat! You know how to eat!"
The old militiaman stared at Chippawa, who had a red face and messy short hair, and asked in a deep voice.
"What have you been doing all day?"
"Hiccup!...Sister Alan summoned the warrior captains from various tribes... She said that after the autumn harvest, they would go north to attack the tribes on the south bank of the river... Haha! This time, we not only want to plunder, but also let the dozens or twenty Koavek tribes, Completely and completely incorporated into the rule of the Red Crow Tribe!…”
"Hehe! We're going to get some fights now! We can't say it, but we have to keep chasing them for hundreds or even thousands of miles...until they can't run away and kneel down to us!..."
Chipawa, the wilderness warrior, smiled proudly, as if he regarded the fighting in the Northern Expedition as a long-distance race to achieve success. The old militiaman pursed his lips and wanted to persuade him, but he knew it was in vain.
"Haha! We're going to fight again!..."
The wasteland warrior Chippawa was so happy and laughed naively for a while. Then, he seemed to remember something and asked with some confusion.
"Dad! What did you... say to Sister Alan yesterday?"
"Uh, I just talked about some things about the kingdom...what's wrong?"
"She's acting a little weird today, she feels different!..."
"What's the difference?"
"It's like... there is fire in her eyes. When people look at it, they can't help but want to lower their heads. When she walks in the morning, there is a fierce wind. Her momentum is like riding on the back of a bison. It’s like running on the road!…”
Hearing this, the old militiaman and Meikat looked at each other. They both had some guesses, but they couldn't figure it out.
"Um... Chief Alan, did you tell us when you would see us again?"
"ah?"
The wasteland warrior Chipawa was stunned, thought for a while, and shook his head vigorously.
"Gone! Sister Alan is very busy. She said, 'I've seen you, I believe you, no need to say goodbye!' Next, we can leave! ...Yes! She asked me to escort you south, and her two Together with the personal guards, we will reach Otter City, which is eight hundred miles away!"
"Oh! By the way! She also said that you must leave the three injured sailors as agreed! The tribe will take care of them and arrange everything!..."
"Yes. They are your fellow countrymen, and you have to take care of them..."
"I know! The Prepecha people living in the north are all united..."
"Huh! Lord God! Can we finally leave?"
Upon hearing this arrangement, the old militiamen and the Mecat priests both breathed a sigh of relief at the same time. The old militiaman touched his chin and glanced at the big tent under the red crow flag in the center. He thought secretly for a while, then looked at his son with a smile on his old face.
"Next, we have to take a boat by water!... How long does it take to go south from here to Otter City?"
"If you take a boat... from Red Crow City to the mouth of the Heron River, I heard people say it is four hundred miles, so I will calculate it as seven days. From Haikou to Otter City, it seems to be six hundred miles, and I guess ten days? Then it adds up, that's , that is...sixteen, seventy-eight days!"
Chipawa, the wasteland warrior, touched his chin and clenched his fingers seriously. Then, he spoke happily and filially.
"Dad! When we get to Otter City, I'm going to see the chief and tell Sister Alan about the arrangements for the northern expedition! ... As for you, just row south by yourself! I will provide you with the equipment, an obedient Huastec sailor... "
