"Aye, 'tis. When it sets, she keeps it in a box under her bed. In a magic place she makes with passes," she confides, then blinks again and reaches up to catch his hand against her hair.

"Thee'd not have me cut it too, would'ee?" Even as she asks it, distress fills the fog-gray glance... along with sudden recognition. Susan gasps in a sharp, ragged breath.

"Caspian?"