human
Greeting, my brother, quoth he;
gpt
And what of the battle?
human
Death, my brother: as leaves of the forest lie the Maya warriors, but of our enemies none return. So am I solitary, my work done, and solitary go I to Pachacamac that lieth beside the Great Sea. But there is an empty place betwixt us, brother--what of the old cacique so cunning in battle--what of my father?