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"I suppose it's too late to turn back", Grover says wistfully.
There's three Furies circling above them, making Morana furrow her brows in confusion. Why aren't they attacking them? No one else seems to be too bothered about it.
"We'll be okay", Percy assures him but Morana can tell he's also trying to assure himself. "Maybe we should search some of the other places first", the goat-boy suggests, "Like, Elysium, for instance . . ."
"Come on, goat boy", Annabeth grabs his arm.
Grover yelps. His sneakers sprout wings and his legs shoot forward, pulling him away from the girl. He lands flat on his back in the grass.
"Grover," Annabeth scolds like a mother, "Stop messing around."
"But I didn't—", he yelps again. His shoes are flapping like crazy now. They levitate off the ground and start dragging him away from the three others. "Maia!" They can hear him yelling.
"Maia, already! Nine-one-one! Help!" The last word seems to break their shocks and Morana's wings sprout from her back as well. Percy just misses Grover's hand and Morana races after him as he starts flying towards a place Morana really does not like. She manages to lock her hands with Grover's and flips her lower body to be in line with his so she can try to pull him back. It doesn't work.
Annabeth shouts after them, "Untie the shoes, Grover!" A smart idea, but it's not so easy when your shoes are pulling you along feet first at full speed, your hands clinging to the only thing that's trying to pull you toward safety.
Morana's wings are flapping like crazy as the girl grunts at the effort. Despite pulling as hard as she can, nothing seems to happen. She only slows Grover's flight towards his death.
"Morana! Grover!" Percy yells after them, his voice echoing in the tunnel that's veering downward. It gets darker and colder and it smells evil.
The tunnel widens into a huge dark cavern, and in the middle is a chasm the size of a city block. Grover is sliding straight toward the edge, Morana still pulling on his arms frantically. Panic fills her. She really doesn't like that place.
Her legs gain bloody gashes from dragging along the gravel and even her back and wings occasionally scratch against the little and sharp pieces of rock.
"Come on, Percy!" Annabeth yells, tugging at his wrist. "But that's—"
"I know!" she shouts. "The place you described in your dream! But they're going to fall if we don't catch them."
