The drop before them was deeper and steeper than Justin would have imagined. Even after Olorus and Hook lit torches-made of wood and resin-soaked strips of cloth-the world below was still a black void shrouding unknowable depths. How long a fall might last, Justin could not guess.
It was a group effort to lead the steeds down the steep drop. Navigation was up to the humans, as the animals had poorer eyesight and twice as many feet to attend to. It did not help that they didn't like being down here to begin with. Justin didn't blame them. A cave was about as far from home as a steed could get, and Justin knew a thing or two about being far from home.
Justin was guiding Seabiscuit-one hand on his reins and another stroking his neck-when he took a wrong step. His foot flew out from under him. He lost his grip on Seabiscuit, and he tumbled forward over the precipice.