I am named Loka; I live in the village of Tollan, which has a population of approximately one
thousand of my people, carpenters, sculptors, painters, farmers, almost every profession you
could need is represented in this, the largest settlement of my tribe.
We are members of the great and noble Tolteca tribe, through hard work and good fortune
our tribe has grown in numbers, from the original seven hundred Toltec who began the long
trek from the dry barren lands of the north, we now number between six and seven thousand.
My mothers name is Xosal and she is highly respected not only in Tollan but also throughout
our tribe, being the wife of the now departed hereditary chief of the Toltec nation she is
regarded as the temporary holder of our tribal leadership until I come of age and take my
manhood trial, when she walks in the square, tall and regal, people always defer to her.
Although middle aged in my eyes she still has her beauty and her long hair still retains its
black lustre, her eyes are dark pools that reflect a very resourceful and stubborn woman
whom I love dearly; she is the centre of my life, everything I do or say revolves around my
mother.
My father, the traditional chief of all the Tolteca, was named Cingo, he was a large man, and
according to my mother he was brave and fearless in the protection of his people, quite
outspoken against any injustice.
The people returned my father’s love for them and hung on his every word, then one day
when I was only a child he went out one day to tend to his fields and was never heard of
again.
The whole village with the aid of hundreds of Toltecs from the other settlements searched the
surrounding countryside without finding a single sign of his passing; even our best trackers
found no signs of a struggle or tracks of any hostiles, after a month the search, still not
finding any signs of my father’s fate, was abandoned.
Though the seasons have come and gone, my mother never forgets him, every evening she
prays to the gods to protect him, always she finishes this ritual by putting food and drink on
our family altar in the courtyard.
By birth my father was the hereditary head of the whole Toltec nation and he took this
responsibility very seriously.
He worked the land from dawn until dusk even though he had a manager and enough
labourers to do all the work for him, mother says he was a large, tireless man, very muscular
and strong and wise, I seem to have inherited his stature.
I have a sister named Gled, one year my senior, she is on speaking terms, and I do mean
speaking terms with everyone, even the craftsmen impatient to finish their work will lay
down their tools and sit and talk to her, their work forgotten, tall and slender with the same
kind of beauty that my mother possesses, her raven black hair glistens blue and purple when
she moves, she moves with a grace and beauty that turns heads where-ever she goes, she
laughs and smiles and chat’s to anyone and everyone.
She can talk for an hour about any subject, I have never known her to be at a loss for words, I
have often wondered if she keeps talking even when she is alone, she is always laughing and
