"No! Disengage, do not engage these tribes!"
The plains were open, with two thousand Maya tribal warriors howling, running, surging as swiftly as a tide. A hundred small canoes flowed downstream, rushing towards the rivermouth. The old militia Chiwaco observed for a few breaths, estimated the imminent battle, and immediately made a decision.
"Signal with the flag, leave the riverbank. Row five miles west, retreat into the near sea!"
Upon hearing this, Puap was slightly taken aback, thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement. Soon, the retreat flags rose at the bow. The flagship turned first, with over forty rowers exerting themselves simultaneously, rowing desperately, turning swiftly. The remaining six longships followed closely, swiftly rowing into the distance.
