When the sun reached its zenith—veiled behind thick, brooding clouds—the exiles arrived at a remote settlement known as Ma-Anyag.
The town took its name from a nearby peak, a strikingly symmetrical mountain in the Alta-Sierra range. Unlike the jagged cliffs that dominated the range, this mountain stood apart, a perfect cone of lush greenery that gave the illusion of serenity. Its gentle incline invited the imagination to picture a child's joyful slide down its slope. To its side loomed the rugged walls of Mount Ponte, casting long shadows over the land like ancient sentinels.
The road followed by the exiles was beside a river, and there was an old oak tree whose canopy covered a large area, providing a suitable spot for them to rest for a quick lunch.
The prisoners were each given a piece of bread and a small amount of water. The bread was very hard; it could scratch one's throat if swallowed hastily.
