Balamo sighed in resignation. His poem was not yet finished, but his melancholy mood vanished in an instant, his inspiration gone. He could only wave his war club to the west, and the three hundred samurai bit down on the Otomi's retreating tail, in hot pursuit.
No one paid attention to the Otomi militia for the moment. These conscripted village warriors glanced at one another and then scattered in all directions, fleeing tumultuously. As they left, the militia didn't forget to take as much food from the camp as possible. Next, they would certainly not return to the western army but instead embarked on the long journey home, seeking family members whose fates were unknown. If, by fortune, they found their loved ones, they could begin to consider how to survive the famine-stricken winter.