They all turn to look, staring into the darkness beyond the edges of the garden. Caspian recalls a similar darkness, the kind that swallows everything, every last breath of courage. None of the shadows are lessened by the evil red glow coming from the horizon – what moon rises there will not light their way.

(pull for all our lives; there are some things no man can face – IT'S just going to settle on the mast)

His hand settles once more on the pommel of his sword, and as his fingers brush the molded lion's head there, some soothing warmth begins to spread through his chest, pushing back the fear. "What is it?" he whispers. "What do you see?"