The Greek army also consisted of men from several other Greek states while the Spartans took up three hundred of the total of four thousand men. Most of the men of the army took the chance of escape and all who remained were three hundred Spartans and seven hundred of another place in Greece called Thespiae.

Ebhali watched the fog roll in and the sun being clouded in a thick shroud. He was getting uneasy about Menegal and Luvilia. He knew they were gone to the watch, but the emptiness on the left of him was not reassuring. The other men around were quiet. No one had spoken or moved since in moved the fog. The hours dragged by slowly, while the sun began to tear through the clouds.

“Watchers! Grasp hands!” commanded Vafi.
“Flohad! Your hand!” said Menegal, groping to the right.
“Here it is, Menegal,” said Flohad, putting forth his hand into Menegal’s unseen one.
“I cannot see you, Wixtil. Where is your hand?” cried Luvilia, fumbling out to the left.

That night the watch was doubled, for the Persians would undoubtedly be there soon. No man slept that night. The watchmen stood at all the ends of the pass like stones with moonlight gleaming on their armor and helmets.

“Luvilia, what is ahead? I thought I heard you jump,” said Menegal.
“You heard correctly. There is a ditch in the path. But be careful not to jump too short,” said Luvilia.
“There is a ditch ahead, watch not to jump to short,” said Menegal, to Ebhali who marched behind him.

Coming to a halt for evening’s camp, Menegal wearily set himself down on the ground to rub his ankle that had swelled up again. He had walked mainly in silence for the ending of the march for he was thinking about Golwitch. Memories of playing in the lake that was in the valley where they had lived as children came into his mind, and of the hunts they had enjoyed together.

When Menegal awoke, it was dawn. He glanced at the tired Hilfarey at his side. Sitting up and trying to rise, he fell backward onto the pallet and realized he could not stand, unless with great pain on account of his ankle.

Despite the rain from the night before the sky was still a dusty, dirty blue color and the air was hot. The stone that the men walked upon was also hot, so if one stumbled, it burned their hands. No talk was exchanged between Menegal and Golwitch that day or for the next four, for they were too weary.

Early in the morning when the sun was just reaching the tips of the mountains, Menegal woke. In the night he was restless and could not sleep, having many dreams of continual feelings of no escape. Throwing off the bedcover, he prepared for the next march.