A jaguar slunk through the tall grass, and paused at the base of a tree. Its first instinct was to climb, but a sound jerked it to attention. The cat froze into a crouch, only the tip of its tail twitching as its yellow eyes pierced the darkness. There in the grass, something was moving.
It was large, a hearty meal, but it didn't move like a deer. A single paw moved forward, then froze. There was more movement. A herd?
More and more and more... the prey was gathering. The jaguar took another silent step, then another. Finally, he got a clear view of his prey.
Human. They were humans. And it was far larger than a herd.
The jaguar abandoned the hunt, slipping into the nearest tree. From there, above the swarm of humans, he could watch without being seen, waiting for the back of the herd where the weak and injured would soon pass by.
The herd moved, for hours and hours. An innumerable herd that never seemed to end - no weak or injured to be seen. Finally, when the sun was near the horizon, the back of the herd could be seen. There were no weak, no small ones, none straggling behind. They were a solid wall.
The jaguar watched, but couldn't seem to identify where the fleshy meat was. They were covered in hard shells, holding all kinds of sticks in their hands. Some had shiny, black rocks stuck into the ends, and others were long tubes with cups in one end. Though the shells over their bodies did not cover their faces, it seemed there was no flesh to be had upon them. Just sunken bone, maybe some skin. Some were decked in colorful feathers, others were just simply gray. Dull skin hung from the bones on their face, and eyeballs rolled in otherwise empty sockets.
In the back of the line, one man looked up, and saw the spotted cat in the tree. He paused, falling three steps behind, then swung his atlatl. A dart shot from the cup, and he saw the jaguar reach down to bite its own chest in irritation.
In a matter of minutes, the man ran to catch up with his army, a fresh and still moist jaguar-skin hung about his shoulders.
*
The sun broke across the camp, marking the morning of the solstice. The warrior was a lucky one; he was in the twenty first army, the greatest of them all. They had the hardest region of the world to conquer; the largest and most vicious, with the most powerful weapons. But they were prepared. They had been preparing since the beginning of this b'ak'tun, and there wasn't even a question in his mind. This conquest would be over in a matter of weeks... possibly even days.
As sunlight descended, washing over his head, the jaguar skin at his shoulders, his armored chest, legs, and finally his feet, his body shimmered in the light. Its substance disappeared, only to rematerialize in a crowd. They were unlike any men and women he had ever seen: some with fair skin, others dark, all of them dressed in thick, padded clothes. Animals made of silver and a strange blue metal rushed across the ground at speeds he had never comprehended possible. Was it possible the world had developed strange metal weapons as well?
Either way, surprise was on their side. And he had never seen an arrow that could stop the thousands of immortal warriors that were materializing around him. No sword had severed their heads long enough to stop them. No dart could poison them. Nothing could get in the way of their attack.
With an obsidian-laden sword in one hand, the warrior raised his atlatl in his other, letting the first dart fly.
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