The two men stood in the clearing staring at each other intently. Their gaze was transfixed on their opposer across an invisible line. Every slight movement from one provoked an equivalent defensive response from the other. When one took on a threatening posture, the other assumed a position more threatening. This continued until their desire strike at the other was overwhelming. They both lunged at the same moment in the direction of their opponent. Their clubs collided with a thunderous crash. Their blows were deflected, but their rage was not.

“You will pay for what you did, Vicente!” the one cried.

“You brought it on yourself, Francisco!” the other spat back.

With this, he fiercely swung his cudgel at Francisco, connecting with the side of his head. He stumbled back from the pain of the impact. His shoe was momentarily stuck in the mud below as he attempted to regain his composure. A drop of blood trickled from his new wound, landing on the cross around his neck before continuing to the ground.