At the bottom of the canyon, their pathway widened into a small open area surrounded by large bushes and stunted trees, serving as the perfect arena as the two young men faced off. Ahote could put up with the abuse from Tocho, but it was the harassment of the younger, weaker individuals of the village which grated on him. Maybe it was time to sort out the issue without anyone else present . . .
No fool, Tocho recognized Ahote’s expression change, and he knew he finally had the opportunity to shame his opponent—unfortunately, there weren’t any of the village members present to witness the humiliation. What Tocho gave up in height, he made up for in strength. No one in his or surrounding villages matched him in physical power, and that power served as his source of confidence—it fed his mean streak, dominating anyone he chose.
Both young men removed their bows and quivers—neither risking damaging them since waste wasn’t their way of life. Then, bending slightly into a fighting stance, each circled the other, counterclockwise. Tocho made the first move, feinting toward the head when the real attack was to take out his opponent’s legs in a bull rush, diving maneuver. The move proved a favored opening ploy that always worked.