The high palanquin was lifted by twenty people, guarded by four hundred strong tribal warriors. Those abstract and ancient, smoking and towering volcano patterns symbolized the divinity of the great volcano, the unquestionable supreme authority among the Colima tribes.
At this moment, on this divine palanquin, an old man and a young boy were sitting side by side, announcing an unmistakable succession to all the Colima tribes. The boy with a tiger-like head and brain widened his eyes, crawled to the edge of the palanquin, showing not a hint of fear. He curiously watched the dense escort warriors, observed the copper spears in their hands and the iron axes at their waists, and shouted milkily.
"Ah Ba... Who?"
"Hmm?..."
The old Chief of Colima was slightly startled, followed the boy's gaze, and then burst into laughter.
