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.

“What is troubling you my friend?” asked Golwitch, staring into the firelight which beamed on his face.
“I am not sure I know,” said Menegal. “But for certain, out of all misunderstanding, there is something that is going to happen to us all, which is grievous.”
Golwitch looked into his friend’s eyes and wondered what this answer might mean. The road had been tiresome on the way to Thermopylae, and the time of sleep was not fair. Was all this weighing down upon Menegal?