Centuries ago during the Time of Discovery, the conquistadors came to the valley of Valladolid in central Mexico. The Spanish and natives made peace, and a day later, as told many times, when the Europeans and natives met, the Spanish nearly annihilated the Indians making a display of cutting the chief’s head off. A few escaped and hid. What was left of the natives, the butterfly eagle people, split into two groups, one to watch the conquistadors, and track their movements, the other group to start the long journey up to the mountains where the butterfly and eagle lived, where these people ranged in the summer. Those that stayed watched in stealth as these aliens and the four-legged beasts camped and ate. The sun cast armor, the weapons that cut like fire from the sky, all of the finely made items, some shone like the sun and did not let the arrows into their chests and legs, the same blazing sun drenched shields on the great beasts, that the conquistadors sat upon, those things made the native’s hearts tremble, and they knew that these were not people in the same way they were.

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