The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

"Sorry, Bree," he gasped. "I can't walk. It burns my feet." "Of course!" panted Bree.
"Should have thought of that myself. Stay on. Can't be helped."
"It's all right for you," said Shasta to Aravis who was walking beside Hwin. "You've got
shoes on."
Aravis said nothing and looked prim. Let's hope she didn't mean to, but she did.
On again, trot and walk and trot, jingle-jingle-jingle, squeak-squeak-squeak, smell of hot
horse, smell of hot self, blinding glare, headache. And nothing at all different for mile
after mile. Tashbaan would never look any further away. The mountains would never
look any nearer. You felt this had been going on for always - jingle-jingle-jingle,
squeaksqueak-squeak, smell of hot horse, smell of hot self.
Of course one tried all sorts of games with oneself to try to make the time pass: and of
course they were all no good. And one tried very hard not to think of drinks-iced sherbet
in a palace in Tashbaan, clear spring water tinkling with a dark earthy sound, cold,
smooth milk just creamy enough and not too creamy - and the harder you tried not to
think, the more you thought.
At last there was something different - a mass of rock sticking up out of the sand about
fifty yards long and thirty feet high. It did not cast much shadow, for the sun was now
very high, but it cast a little. Into that shade they crowded. There they ate some food and
drank a little water. It is not easy giving a horse a drink out of a skin bottle, but Bree and
Hwin were clever with their lips. No one had anything like enough. No one spoke. The
Horses were flecked with foam and their breathing was noisy. The children were pale.
After a very short rest they went on again. Same noises, same smells, same glare, till at
last their shadows began to fall on their right, and then got longer and longer till they
seemed to stretch out to the Eastern end of the world. Very slowly the sun drew nearer to
the Western horizon. And now at last he was down and, thank goodness, the merciless
glare was gone, though the heat coming up from the sand was still as bad as ever. Four
pairs of eyes were looking out eagerly for any sign of the valley that Sallowpad the
Raven had spoken about. But, mile after mile, there was nothing but level sand. And now
the day was quite definitely done, and most of the stars were out, and still the Horses
thundered on and the children rose and sank in their saddles, miserable with thirst and
weariness. Not till the moon had risen did Shasta - in the strange, barking voice of
someone whose mouth is perfectly dry-shout out:
"There it is!"
There was no mistaking it now. Ahead, and a little to their right, there was at last a slope:
a slope downward and hummocks of rock on each side. The Horses were far too tired to
speak but they swung round towards it and in a minute or two they were entering the
gully. At first it was worse in there than it had been out in the open desert, for there was a
breathless stuffiness between the rocky walls and less moonlight. The slope continued