(Chapter 8: Gruthspen's Greed)

Day of the Full Thunder Moon (July), Room of an Amini, Inside Temple of Mixcoatl, City of Tenochtitlan

Xochiyotl didn't seem to know how the days and months had passed so quickly. She dazed out the window from her position in the large over-stuffed chair to the left of the large window. She had only learned two days ago that there was a balcony out there, you had to press a button on the side of the windowsill to open the door to it. Well, actually it removed most of the wall when you pushed it. The Amini had opened it as she was coming out of the bathroom and has shocked her with it. Xochiyotl smiled and settled deeper into the crimson silk. On the table next to the chair were a half-melted candle and a cup of Atole. She had only recently made it and so the brew was hot and hard, a deep mixture of corn stalk and Bark of an ancient tree she didn't know the name of. It had not been a popular drink in her former life, but she liked it for its awakening powers. It always seemed to be able to drink her to life in the early morning and warm her cold body after the night. The nights were becoming colder and every night without a blanket was becoming increasingly harder to sleep though. Xochiyotl spaced again and thought back on past events. Her birthday had passed a few days ago, 7th of the Thunder Month to be precise. She had not told her "Master" and therefore had not celebrated it, but she was happy none the less. She was now 16 years old and capable of marrying. Thoughts of the Amini brought back what had happened on the floor just a few weeks ago. The small girl shivered in the chair at the memory of how he had touched her, made her feel, and the spicy scent that had poured from him. For the life of her, the small girl couldn't understand why he had done that. She had pondered every reason and logical fallacy. Even more confusing, she found herself actually liking the way he had touched her, and she had wanted more. But why? Why did she giggle when he cocked his head? What made her move closer to him when he was beside her? Why did she want to be near him so badly?

The door slid open loudly, signifying the return of the Amini from his guard duty. The simple sound made Xochiyotl jump and let out a little scream. The Hunter looked at her for a second before locking his spear in its place at his thigh. Xochiyotl blushed a deep crimson and she stood with her cup in hand. He simply stood at the door silently, staring through his mask. She hated that mask sometimes, she could never tell what he was looking at! Then, a second later, he removed his mask and tossed it on the bed. When he looked back up, there was a glint in his eyes.

"Huica hualquizti." He spoke fluently. (We're going to town) it must have been hard for his mandibles to form.

"Icuac?" She asked innocently, setting her cup on the tray of crumbs. (When?)

"Aocmo huecauh." He replied as he strode to the bathroom and disappeared behind the sheet. (In a moment)

Xochiyotl took the moment to put on some presentable clothes. She had been wearing her "old" cotton dress, mainly used for cleaning because it was white and easy to clean of stains. Now she slipped on her Black jaguar fur skirt and halter top, tying both as tight as she could stand. Then she deftly slipped on her black fur shin coverings, she had no shoes and therefore she had to walk around in her bare feet. Not too unusual for a commoner or slave and it didn't bother her much because she never left the house. Just as Xochiyotl finished tying, Cit'lal-i strode from the bathroom. He was fresh and clean and his armor shone with a slight sheen of blue. Much like his eyes, she thought to herself. The Hunter looked at her and snorted a laugh before looking about the room to double check things. With a final nod, the Hunter strode with her to the door, out it, and down the hallway way she only vaguely remembered.

4,999 steps down the Temple…

Xochiyotl now remembered how the Hunter was so thin and muscular. She tripped on the last of the five thousand steps on the temple's side, skidding on her knees. The Aztec shook herself free of dust and looked up at the Hunter, hating the fact that he had donned his mask again. He nodded sharply, devoid of emotion and turning away, and they both turned to the market of the great city Tenochtitlan. It was bustling with all kinds of people, as it usually was. Dust wafted in thick clouds from their sandaled and booted feet and dispersed into the air. Most were slaves, many were commoners, but some were of the nobility. Xochiyotl was amazed at how even they, the nobility, looked to the Hunter in reverence and awe as he passed by. Secretly, the teen was proud of her "Master" and the status she gained from being his slave. Voices grew louder and louder as they walked down the streets of the market. From her position to the right and slightly behind the Amini, Xochiyotl could tell that he was looking for something in particular. Just as she was about to ask him about it, he stopped. She had to skid to a stop on her bare feet, scraping the skin on the bottom. The Hunter looked down at her naked feet and the shin guards covering her legs. Then he turned to the nearest booth and began to talk to the teller. His Nahuatl (Aztec form of language) was amazingly fluent. Xochiyotl looked to her feet and thought of how she could have done wrong. She had never owned a pair of good shoes, and her sandals had been left in the sacrifice rooms when she had been rescued. She had no need for shoes normally. So why it was a big deal that she was bare footed? Xochiyotl was ripped from her daze by a pair of black boots hanging in front of her face. She looked upward to find that her Amini was holding them.

"Wear these." He simply stated before dropping them in her open hands.

Xochiyotl was about to cry in thanks. She bowed deeply, erecting a growl from him, and slipped them on silently, keeping the tears from falling. The inside was lined with a soft fur to protect her feet and keep them comfortable, she guessed it could have been from a rabbit or fox. The Amini turned and walked a little ways away to another teller, this time looking at some beads and small trinkets. As the small girl was finished tying the straps to the boots, something she had not wanted to hear drifted to her ears. She had dreaded it, knowing he went to the market for corn alcohol nearly every day.

"Mayahuel nemi!" (Mayahuel, you live!)

The voice made her skin crawl and abruptly she was yanked to her feet by a rough hand. Xochiyotl let out an audible gasp. Her step-father. He was fatter and uglier than she remembered him, his belly protruded from his small torn shirt.

"Let...go!" Her hair made a small ripping noise.

"You belong to me wench! Where have you been?" he shouted.

People were watching now, most whispering about the situation to others they may have not known. Where was her Amini? Had he left her all alone? His tight grip got even tighter as the tension escalated.

"What….I'm not yours anymore! I am…" she didn't get to finish. He dropped her to his level and exhaled in her face

"You're what? A whore? A slave? That would fit you well." He grumbled, beginning to drag her away.

"I am 16!" She shouted, hoping her age would compel someone to help her.

"Silence! I own you until you are married!" Whipping his hand across the air, Xochiyotl's step- father was about to hit her face …

Cit'lal-i was furious! How dare this human male come and handle his human this way! He assumed it was her step-father, for the way he had talked to her and her recollection of his behavior. He smelt strongly of alcohol. But that fact did not help the Hunter's anger any more. As the human male was about to hit Xochiyotl, Cit'lal-i had come back from a booth and blocked the male's hand, gripping his wrist tight. Cit'lal-i growled and leveled his masked face with the suddenly pale human's.

"She belongs to me now, human." He snarled in a deep voice.

"She is mine, monster!" the human spat on his mask.

That was all it took to send Cit'lal-i over the edge of anger. With a deafening roar, the Hunter's hand shot out and wrapped around the male's neck. He pulled the body upward and roared again in the male's face. He could hear a thud, glad the human had dropped Xochiyotl. He couldn't hear, he couldn't see anything other than the blood on the male's hand from Xochiyotl and the man's frightened face. Cit'lal-i let him hang for a second before turning to Xochiyotl. She had a horrified visage on her face and her arm bled a little from his dirty fingernails. She had a small chunk of hair missing from her head. He bowed his head and spoke to a woman beside her.

"Do not let that little one see."

Please do not let her be afraid of me too.

Where had that thought come from?

And as the woman took Xochiyotl in her arms and buried her head in the woman's chest, Cit'lal-i turned back to the male. He dropped him hard on his face and protracted his Ki'cit'pa, wrist blades, with a sharp sound. The male got back up, grabbing a large stick to defend him.

"I own her! I own all those wretches! Good for nothings!" The man shouted.

"She is my slave. Mine alone do to with what I will." He replied, his voice a black hole lacking emotion.

The man launched forward, a fatal attempt at dyeing honorably. The hunter let him fall on his face, pinning his fat little form with a well-placed spear thrust. Men and women alike screamed as the Hunter stabbed the blades, Ki-cit-pa, at the base of the man's lower back. Many bowed in honor. The step-father's scream was gurgled and leaked blood as the Amini worked his way upward slowly cutting and sawing at the man's spine. A fitting form of torture for the unworthy. As he reached the base of the human's neck, the Hunter roared and plunged his hand in the gooey mess, wrapping his fist around the spine. He tore, yanked, and the spine and skull were free of the rest of the body. With a loud angry shout, the Hunter proclaimed his victory. Never again would this man hurt his little female. Never again would he torment her. And as his roared died, the Amini on the other Temple tops roared together to echo his fury and happiness. They all knew the joy of the kill and it revealed itself in their bellows. A few moments passed and his fury subsided as he recognized what he had done. More importantly, what he had done to Xochiyotl. The Hunter turned and frowned at the trembling form of Xochiyotl met his eyes. The poor girl was staring at him, tears running down her face and her upper lip trembling. Cit'lal-i looked from the mangled corpse, to the trophy in his hand, to her and back.

No, Gods, please don't let her hate me. Please don't let her be afraid of me too.

He had shown his Hunter nature in front of her. Underneath his civilized exterior he had shown his nature. He had ruined his chance of ever becoming her mate! That thought stopped him. When had he thought about becoming her mate? When had he decided he loved her? A whimper brought him back to reality and his eyes focused on her again. The Hunter hooked the skull and spine, still bloody and gory with flecks of brain and an eyeball to testify for its freshness, to the net at his right hip. He shook his head and growled to the female who had her arms wrapped around Xochiyotl. The female let go and stepped back as if she had been hurt and just as soon as she did, Xochiyotl's knees collapsed and she hit the ground with a dull thud. Her violent green eyes still held his.

All she could hear were the gurgled screams of her former foster-father. Xochiyotl focused on the scents of dust and warm honey from in her snuggly place at the woman's breast. This woman smelled good. As the screams subsided she had to look. Whatever greeted her was fate and she knew she would have to deal with something like it in the future, seeing as she was the servant girl of a Hunter. What met her eyes was horrid and beyond comparison. Blood pooled around the mangled flesh that had been a human and she watched as her "Master" ripped the bones from the body. He was a Hunter, she knew it in her heart, and whatever gentleness he showed her was a game to hide his true nature. This proved it. He was gutting the human like a fish! The sound itself was disgusting and when he turned to her… Xochiytol didn't know what was happening anymore. She was numb. Nothing was there but herself and Cit'lal-i. And all she could focus on was the eyes lenses of his mask. They were a deep orange tint and yet, though the color was so warm, they were cold. He growled, but she didn't notice it, she didn't notice her knees slamming the dirt, nor the scent of gore. When he growled again, she couldn't take it anymore, and as she lost consciousness, she watched him dart for her.

Cit'lal-i frowned and reached her just as she passed out and her head hit the ground. Frowning deeper, he stooped to lift her into his arms gently and he set forward back to the temple, leaving the body for the servants and slaves to clean up. Blood on his hands smeared her clothing in sticky smudgy glops. People parted, giving the Amini more than enough room to walk.

The Seventh Heaven

Coyolxauhqui hissed through her teeth. She stomped up the steps to her temple and slammed the door shut as she walked to her silken throne. She had just gotten from the Mirror Temple and the Seeing Stone within. It had showed the Hunter killing a human in front of the girl! And the Goddess had been attempting to get the girl to love him and vice versa. What was wrong with mortals? She must have been the only good one of the generation.

"Nelli!" she shouted as she flopped into the cushions.

"Nelli!" she really needed that useless star right now.

"Nelli is not here. In fact none of your stars are, Moon." A far familiar voice whispered in her ear. "And what is the Moon with no Stars?"

"How dare you!" the Moon twirled around and met nothing.

"I dare? Do what?"

"How dare you meddle in my affairs!" she was reaching a screech now.

"Have you ever noticed that none of us but you has slaves?"

As the Moon whirled back to her sitting position, she came face to face with Beauty herself. The woman smiled flawlessly and rested a hand on her hip. Her red silken dress hung from her shoulders and flowed much like water around her. The Moon was an amusing creature, she was. Coyolxauhqui hissed again as she calmed herself down. It was no used being angry with a little kid after all. She straitened her back and brushed some of her honey hair from her blue eyes. The seat under her holy buttocks seemed to grow to stone and as it become more and more uncomfortable, she stood with a huff. Suddenly, she broke the echoic silence.

"What do you want, old hag?"

"Ooooo." Beauty made the noise with an 'O' mouth. "You'd better calm yourself down little Moon."

"What the hell do you mean?" now she was pissed.

"Anger. Sloth. Vanity. You are becoming Sin itself aren't you? Not to mention the mouth you have on you."

Every God and Goddess that existed knew that when you call out a sin in a Deity, they become weaker and weaker, but only if the called sin was true. Xochiquetzal was counting on the Moon becoming weaker. She had been in office far too long.

"No!" Coyolxauhqui covered her ears with her silky white hands, nails tinted purple.

"Did Mother make a mistake birthing you into a Goddess?" the sound was barely a whisper now.

"No! Stoppit!" she combined words again.

The only sounds then, in the temple, were the Moon's screams as her skin grew tanner and the quiet laugh of amusement coming from Xochiquetzal.

Mixcoatl smiled to Ixlilton as he sat on his own throne. At his feet, the soul of a farmer lay begging and snuffling. Mixcoatl nodded to Mictlantecuhtle, the God of the Dead and spirit Guide. The poor God had thought that it was proper that Mixcoatl deal with the idiot on the floor. The Hunter God shook his head and reached for his double-bladed spear resting at his side. As his hand wrapped around it, he stood and his voice boomed around the stone walls.

"Why are you here human?"

"I w-was wronged!" the human male stuttered and raised his head.

"You are the foster parent of little Mayahuel aren't you?" Mixcoatl already knew that answer to the question; he just wanted to hear it from the human.

"Y-yes, Lord! She betrayed me! She…" he was cut off by the God of Death.

"I will hear no more of this nonsense. What is your decision, Mixcoatl?" Death's voice boomed.

Mixcoatl frowned at Mictlantecuhtle and his apparent lack of patients. The Hunter God shook his head and sighed as he decided. This human was unworthy of the delights of the Second Heaven.

"To the Underworld with him." Mixcoatl smiled as the human went pale.

And the God raised his spear and thrust downward.

"Why was it my decision what to do with him?" Mixcoatl asked Mictlantecuhtle after the human was gone.

"You made the Hunter that killed him." And with that Death strode a little ways off and waved goodbye.

Mixcoatl watched as the black cloaked figure looked to the ground and his wings covered him. In a wave of feathers and fire, he was gone from the temple. What a strange solemn person Mictlantecuhtle was. And yet he could have been called the most powerful of the Gods. The Hunter God sighed a little heavier and wondered about what Death had said. He had made the Hunter? Then he remembered. Cit'lal-i was the Hunter that killed the Human male in an attempt to protect Mayahuel. Good, most everything was going according to plan. Or at least to his plans.

"I want a meeting called in the Mirror Temple." He looked to Ixlilton and the God smiled.

Night of the Full Thunder Moon (July), Room of an Amini, Inside Temple of Mixcoatl, City of Tenochtitlan

Outside the clean and vicious temple of Hunters, a storm raged as it did many times during the month. Lightening danced and the mottled black clouds roared. And among the storms a beast slithered. A seething hate under his glistening scales. His teeth shone for moments as he rose above the storm and hissed to the full moon's light and the stars on the black of the sky. And then as quickly as he had come, he was gone and back underneath the veil of the clouds. Yes, this was their place. He would show them what they had done to him. For he was the closest thing to a God his island had. Four claws contracted and retracted, pushing the creature through the sky. He roared, but it was lost in a burst of thunder as the storm whistled on.

Cit'lal-i sat on the edge of his bed, right next to Xochiyotl. She lay sleeping, her bled arm wrapped and her dusty clothes removed. It had been hours since she had passed out and only once had she woken up and even then it had only been for a second. She had screamed, fallen off the bed, and passed out again. The Hunter sighed to himself and lifted a hand to brush away a dusty lock of black hair. Cit'lal-i didn't know how to fix this situation.

After some time alone next to her, Cit'lal-i decided he needed to visit the statue of the Hunter God, Mixcoatl. He had never been particularly religious, but in the end he had decided it would at least get him some fresh air. Something about today had boggled him to no end. And so, the Hunter stood from the bed and strode silently out the door, only pausing for a second to lock it from the outside. He nodded and stepped down the hallways and tunnels to the large main temple room. Inside it was lined with marble of all colors and skull after skull hung from the ceiling, some full bodied skeletons decorating the walls. The statue of the Hunter God himself was littered with skulls from Hunters and humans alike. There was something in that Golden statue that made Cit'lal-i stare in awe up at it. Something was so serene in that silenced room. No humans were there and only one other Hunter. It took a moment for Cit'lal-i to recognize him but when he did it took most of his strength to keep from cutting him down.

"Qua'uht'li!" he shouted to get the others attention.

The other hunter, the one who had attempted to rape Xochiyotl, whipped his head around and stepped back at the sight of Cit'lal-i. Cit'lal-i noticed his demeanor shrivel when he stepped near.

"I saw you kill the human today, nice and clean." Qua'uht'li was kissing Cit'lal-i's ass.

"Not very clean, actually." He thought, and then turned his head from the statue and to the Hunter. "I am just here to look at the statue. Leave me be."

"Y-yes sir."

The other Hunter decided that after that comment it would be best to simply disappear altogether. He shot out of the large room quietly and when the door behind him closed, Cit'lal-i let out a long sigh. Now that he was alone, the Hunter walked to the foot of the large monument and smiled. In scripted in the base was an interesting wave of language that the Messengers themselves had written and carved. It was a form of language known as Lat-in and only known in another part of the planet. Cit'lal-i found it funny how the humans could never decide on one language; each culture always had to have their own. He smiled and read it aloud.

"We would gladly feast on those who would subdue us." He laughed a little.

Those words made his spine shiver and his mandibles bristle in excitement. Yes, now his head was clear. Now he knew what he was going to say to Xochiyotl when she woke up. All he had to do was tell her the truth. And Cit'lal-i didn't quite get how he had come to that conclusion, he simply knew he had. As he turned away and back to his room, the Hunters heart was light and there was a skip to his step.