Sunday, June 8, 1650
This being Sunday, there are no Greeks upon the road, and the party makes good time towards Ossa; the road north winds around the south edge of the mountain, and by the time the party must stop for the heat of the afternoon they have reached the village. It is very little to speak of, much like the other villages I’ve mentioned - these are not towns, merely little settlements.
Looking up, it is possible to see that Mt. Ossa still has a bit of snow on it, at the very top. The village of Ossa is quiet, the residents inside and waiting for sunset (the end of sabbath) - there are no moslem villagers. There’s no one to ask for directions, but there is a road past Ossa, and a small sign that says ‘Spilia’.
Not long after the party stops for the heat, they hear the body of soldiers moving along the road towards Ossa - the sound of armor and feet approaching. The soldiers will catch up to the party quite soon, and will march through Ossa, on their way to Spilia. An exact count indicates there are thirty-four of them.