Red-hot fury the likes of which he's hardly known since he was the young man he now appears to be fills Caspian's chest and rises into his head like steam. "Step back," he orders, coldly.

(is he really as bad as that? would he really murder me?)

"And if you cannot speak courteously to this lady, then you will keep your poisonous tongue behind your teeth or lose teeth, tongue, and head, all."

Something else shifts just beyond Susan's hateful aunt – the beech tree he'd seen on his last visit. He'd thought the beech-woman asleep, like the willow, but now its branches seem to be moving against the wind. There's a soft but intent murmur in the air, like the sound of the brooke, or wind through leaves.

Awake! Awake! Danger – fire – murder – awake!