The two teams of Mulateños set out into the dispersed crowd in diverging directions. The non-Mulateños stepped back as their adversaries approached. They looked at each other and in every direction as if they were searching for someone familiar. Their faces quivered with stress, alternating from expressions of desperation, befuddlement and self-pity. They all seemed to want to say something-- yell at the top of their lungs-- but they stayed silent, as if unsure that they could say anything and were not already dead and among the bodies strewn around them.
The Mulateños looked straight ahead as they advanced. They moved sideways slowly, shuffling, but steadily. Their faces expressed at once determination to survive and cold anger at being so threatened. They had been here before. They and their fathers had been dealt terrible wrongs, and this was just another one. They would persevere or not, but somebody would pay for the trouble. They were monsters emanating from a dark cave coming for whoever it was that had disturbed them, no difference if it was a group of armed men or a single innocent child.
The Mulateños advanced faster than their adversaries retreated and soon breached the point of engagement.
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