TITUS awoke from his deep slumber. He took in a deep breath of the salted air. He could hear the waves, as they fell upon the rocks. Even though he lived more than hour from the sea by walking, the sea seemed to surround the whole house.

As soon as his eyes were used to the brightness of the early morning sun, shining through his window, he saw his little five-year-old sister’s face. Zoe had her father’s light hair and her mother’s dark eyes. She seemed to be smiling for eternality until Titus stated:

“Yes, Zoe?”

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. Among those to stay were Menegal, Luvilia, Ebhali, Havam, Wixtil, Dislin, Ranfia, Gravan, Taniva, Rilvay, Hilfarey, and Leonidas.
Menegal walked up to Luvilia after Leonidas had left.

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. Ebhali’s ears had been sharpened as he lay in silence, and he heard far off yells and battle cries.
“Do you hear those yells?” Ebhali asked another soldier that lay near him.

“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.
“Right here and would stop shouting in my ear?” said Wixtil, putting his hand in Luvilia’s.
“Watchmen grouped?” yelled out Vafi.
“Yea!” cried all the watchmen.
“Renew watch!” shouted Vafi.

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.

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. Taking a deep breath of sorrowful memory, he stood up, and went to work setting up his tent. Before he started, Ebhali came over to him.

Going inside the tent of Tanvia, the Greek councilor, he found that Tanvia was talking to Leonidas. The two men were sitting on the ground on a richly colored mat. Tanvia matched it well. His clothes were orange, red, gold and deep blue. His eyes matched the inside walls of the green tent, and his face was smooth and without beard. His hair was shorn short and brown. Menegal was about to back away when Tanvia called him over to where Leonidas and he were sitting.
“Your name?” asked Leonidas, kindly, signing him to sit.

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.

“You will not be able to stand for a while. Therefore, I have provided this,” said Hilfarey, lifting up a crutch made of wood with some linen tied around the top for comfort. Hilfarey then helped Menegal arise and showed him how to walk with it. After learning to walk in a new fashion, he thanked Hilfarey and went to Golwitch’s tent.

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.
On the fifth day up the mountain, the water was gone and no spring was to be found. The men were weakened by the lack of water. Menegal, being the younger of he and Golwitch, leaned on his friend during the march.