The wind of January came from the north, bearing the sorrow of frost. It sobbed as it flew low, carrying the unique freshness of the highlands, gently lifting into a dirge over the lake of Patzcuaro.
Amid the weeping of the wind, the Mexica scout Necali crouched low, hidden among the reeds at the lakeside, scrutinizing the enemy capital city along the shore. As a warrior directly under the royal family, his vision was excellent; he was adept at small-unit combat, agile as a leopard, and even had a basic understanding of numerical measurements... He was almost the perfect candidate for a scout! If there was one flaw, it was that his swimming skills were average at best.