The night deepened, and faint sounds echoed intermittently between the mountains, resembling the rustling of a long wind through the forest.
Amoxtli was urgent, the survival of his tribe at stake, he had to get answers. He grabbed Ivican's arm firmly.
"Don't change the subject! Ivican, whatever arrangements the Red Fox Chieftain has made, he'll surely inform you red-haired warriors. We have been friends for so many years, you must tell me!"
"Ah! Amoxtli... not all red-haired warriors know the chieftain's plans..."
Ivican showed a troubled expression, stammering reluctantly.
"There are indeed other arrangements! What are they exactly? Is the Red Fox Tribe going to withdraw?"
Amoxtli's expression shifted, but he did not relent, continually pressing his friend.
"Ah! I promised the chieftain I wouldn't say..."
"Ivican, are you going to just stand by and watch me and Alan go get killed? Tell me, I promise I won't tell anyone!"