The soldiers left the area with their morale shattered. Men who had sworn before God to protect the weak had been forced to slaughter them instead, not out of necessity, but for politics. The contradiction gnawed at them, hollowing their spirits. The thought that they might be ordered to do the same again in Medellín weighed even heavier, like a stone pressing against their chests.
A day later, the surviving indigenous warriors returned, naively believing that this time would be no different from the last.
"Sir," one of them said, stepping forward, "we should gather supplies and follow the army. That way, we can still recover at least part of what we lost. I saw it clearly—their cavalry is too heavy. They cannot pursue us for long. We can harass them, exhaust their horses, and then strike. Their armor and lances are made entirely of iron; once they slow down, they are vulnerable."
