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see wisps of cloud streaking the peaks above. Though the sun was shining now, it would be bitterly cold once it fell below the horizon.
    â€˜Follow me,’ ordered Agesilaus, turning to face the steep climb into the hills. Lysander took a last look atthe other students, and then fell into step behind their guide.
    Will I ever see my barracks again?
he wondered. The boys behind them called out good luck and Lysander raised a hand in farewell without looking back.
    His future lay in the mountains.
    Agesilaus led the way up the path. Lysander did his best to keep up, despite the burning in his calves. He could hear Demaratos breathing heavily with the effort of climbing. The other boy’s body leant slightly to one side as he heaved himself up the mountainside and Lysander realised that his recent shoulder injury must already be making things difficult for him.
    The slope became steeper. Finally, they reached a small ridge, where Agesilaus took a sip from his flask.
I’ll save mine
, thought Lysander. He had no idea how thirsty he might get over the coming days and it was too early to start using up his precious supplies. Looking back down the mountain, he could see Diokles and the neat rows of Spartans, no more than red specks now, marching back to the barracks. Dusk was approaching, and the wind had picked up, gusting down the mountainside. The sweat on Lysander’s back made him shiver.
    â€˜We should find some shelter,’ said Lysander. ‘Before it gets too dark.’
    â€˜Shut your mouth, Helot,’ said Agesilaus. ‘I’m leading this group.’
    Demaratos turned and smirked.
    They climbed higher as night fell. Lysander could feel blisters forming across his toes, making his foot throb with every step. The wind was constant, numbing the side of his face. He placed his hands under his armpits to try and warm them.
    Agesilaus stopped ahead. ‘That’s far enough for today.’ He pointed to a shallow dip between several hills. Stunted olive trees formed a small copse. ‘Let’s rest down there, under those trees. It will be out of the wind.’
    â€˜When do we eat?’ asked Lysander as they descended from the ridge.
    â€˜Can’t you last half a day without food?’ sneered Demaratos. ‘You’re pathetic!’
    â€˜You’re the one stuffing your face in the dining hall every day,’ replied Lysander.
    â€˜Quiet, you two!’ yelled Agesilaus. ‘It’s too late to hunt. We’ll find some food at sunrise.’
    To Lysander’s relief, the small olive grove was sheltered from the wind, though the piercing cold of night was already working its way into his bones.
    â€˜Shall we light a fire?’ he asked. He had a flint in his sack, and there was plenty of tinder about.
    â€˜We’ll manage without,’ said Agesilaus. ‘The flames will attract wild animals.’
    â€˜You know nothing,’ Demaratos told Lysander. ‘You’ll get us all killed before the Ordeal has even started.’
    â€˜Neither of you know anything,’ corrected Agesilaus. Demaratos’s smile slipped away. ‘You think life in the barracks is hard? You wait: the Ordeal is ten times as bad. You’ll be so hungry soon that you’d chew the leather of your sandals.’
    Lysander thought of the meat in his sack – he’d save that for when he was truly desperate.
    â€˜Your bones will feel cold enough to shatter like ice,’ said Agesilaus. ‘I’ve been here before, I know.’
    â€˜We should try to build a shelter,’ said Lysander.
    Agesilaus snorted.
    â€˜You really are hopeless. What are you going to build this shelter with?’
    Lysander looked around. Agesilaus was right. Besides a few fragments of dead wood, there was nothing.
    The older boy scrambled up a gnarled olive tree, settling into a natural seat where the branches sprouted from the trunk.
    â€˜At least I’ll still be