At dawn, Caspian, Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy all sat up, rubbed their sleepy eyes, and reassumed walking. Both Susan and Edmund felt very much that they never wanted to see another tree again.

What was worse, they were all starving by this point, having not had anything to eat aside from a little dried jerky from Peter and Caspian's pockets. But although there were trees a-plenty, there were no fruits on them, and there were no berries or nuts on the bushes they came across. Edmund suggested digging for roots; and Lucy asked if that meant the roots of trees.

Regardless, they didn't end up digging either for roots or for truffles (Edmund's next suggestion), but, rather, they decided to keep pressing on. Peter tried his best to assure everyone that he was fairly positive they would find their way out of the forest today; but Susan noticed his voice was hesitant and unnatural, uncertain.

All this makes one wonder if my horrible witch of an adopted mother really did give me such bad food after all, thought Edmund, I can't say I wouldn't eat a hunk of dry bread right about now if it were offered to me-even with water frozen to its cup-but, then, this is still better than living with her anyway. I would not like to be a prisoner again, now that I've been free. Better starvation rations than that!

But his growling stomach appeared to disagree with his mind every few minutes, which was annoying.

"Peter," said Susan at last, looking a little tight-faced, "I've been meaning to ask-I've just realized something-didn't you think to bring a compass?"

"Of course I did," huffed Peter. "It's on my saddle."

"Lot of good it's doing there," she remarked.

"It doesn't matter," Caspian put his oar in. "The best compass in the world can only do so well without a half-way decent map."

"I do wish one of you had brought your hunting horn at least, then." She sniffed self-righteously. "Would have come in handy."

"I seem to remember," said Peter slowly, zeroing in on her, his tone very no-nonsense as he folded his arms across his chest, "giving you a hunting horn, Susan, and you didn't bring it with you into the thicket either. So you can hush up about that already."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was just trying to be realistic."

"No," said Peter, "you were trying to be smart-as usual."

"Oh, stop it, please," said Lucy; "this isn't going to help."

"Is it just me," Caspian's voice wavered into a surprised tone, "or are there less trees up ahead-veering to the left a bit?"

"Could be a clearing," agreed Peter, looking relieved.

"Oh, what's the use of that?" Susan exclaimed, frustrated. "Really, think about it for a minute, just because it's a clearing doesn't mean it's the way out."

"There may be a cottage in the clearing," Edmund explained shortly, not because he was cross, but because he could tell Peter was getting more annoyed with Susan by the second and he figured he should try to defuse the situation the best he could. "And you never know if someone there might tell us the way back." Actually, he didn't think there would be a cottage there at all, whatever he might have said, and Susan seemed to know this (what sane, sensible person would want to live in the middle of no where?), pouting sullenly the whole short walk over.

"What happened?" murmured Caspian suddenly. He found himself speaking in hush tones, and it felt right, but he didn't know why.

"How do you mean?" blurted Susan, before she realized how odd things were becoming.

"Was it not just first thing in the morning a few seconds ago?" Caspian blinked in confusion. "Now it looks almost as if it could be early to mid evening."

And indeed, it did. The sky wasn't dark, not like nighttime, but it was purplish and hazy with a dim pinkish light mixed in. The beds of heather on the sides of the clearing gleamed silver; the colours on the trunks of the surrounding trees shone in dark-and-light shadowy patches.

"It looks like twilight," Lucy stated what was obvious to all five of them now.

"What's that?" Susan pointed at a great looming thing that was certainly not a tree but was much too narrow (and far too tall, at any rate) to be a house or a palace.

Clearly it was some kind of tower, yet as to what it appeared to be made of they couldn't all agree. It was some sort of clear metal or rock that was see-through enough so that one could spy a long, winding, narrow-step staircase going up its inside in a spiral (there was no door leading to it). At the very top, where you couldn't see through it at all because of how high it was, there appeared to be a single room lit with still candlelight that twinkled faintly downwards. There was a window, but none of them could really see it.

"It looks like glass," said Caspian.

Edmund shook his head. "If it was glass, something in this forest would have broken it by now. It's not a normal sort of material, I don't think it's from the natural world at all."

"You would know better than I in that, I suppose." The king of Telmar sounded rather condescending when he said these words. Perhaps he did not really and truly mean to, but, regardless, he did.

Lucy squeezed Edmund's hand and whispered, "Don't let him get to you, Ed." Then, "It is a great marvel though, isn't it? This tower? I've never seen anything like it."

"Nor has anyone else present," muttered Edmund, thinking: that's what makes me the most uneasy about it.

"Peter?" Susan looked to the high king and saw that his face was very strange. His expression was unreadable and his facial muscles kept on flinching like he was fighting off a tension headache.

"Susan," he whispered, not entirely in his senses but not all out of it, either, "you're probably the last person who I should ask about this, but tell me, am I dreaming?"

"You're only a sort of thing in my dream," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "Lucy, pinch me, won't you?"

Lucy did so; lightly, but enough to assure him he was quite awake.

"High King Peter, what is it?" asked Caspian worriedly, wondering at the ever-widening eyes of Narnia's ruler.

"Can you hear that?"

"Hear what?" They all asked.

"I can hear a girl crying again." He shut his eyes tightly, moaned, and it passed; the sound faded into nothing.

"Do you hear her now?" Susan asked impatiently.

"He's not crazy," Lucy defended him. "He must have heard something."

"Shh," whispered Peter, waving his hand absently signaling for them to be quiet; he could hear her again, only now she was talking to him instead of crying.

Can you hear me?

"Yes, I can hear you."

I'm in the tower, in the room at the very top. Please help me.

"How can we get at you?"

Hold on a second…

As soon as Peter heard her tell him to wait, something long and bright streamed down the side of the tower. It was a long rope made from spun gold so perfectly-and tightly-woven that it looked not unlike a long golden braid.

Crouching down near the base of the tower, Caspian murmured, "Rapunzel."

"What?" Peter's concentration broke, his eyes straying from the golden rope which everyone-except for Caspian-were now gaping at, and squinted at his friend in bafflement.

"There's rapunzel lettuce growing all round the tower in a circle," he gestured at a plant he'd apparently been examining.

Edmund's stomach growled again and he took a step forward. "I wonder if it's safe to eat or not."

"We'll get that sorted after we rescue the lady," Peter decided, shifting his gaze back to the rope.

"Is it quite safe?" wondered Susan aloud. "Perhaps you shouldn't-"

"I have to," he said determinedly. "I feel it in my bones."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Susan rolled her eyes, thinking him very sappy and needlessly sentimental at the moment. They all ought to think up a better plan than just climbing up…really!

But there was no better plan to be had, whatever Susan might think about the matter, and Peter was dead-set on climbing up to the top of the tower. Edmund made the suggestion, however, that Peter should not go by himself. Caspian, he said, ought to go up in front of him, he himself-Edmund-just behind, leaving the high king of Narnia in the middle.

"That way," he explained, "if it's some trick and there isn't really a lady up there but…rather…something…else…three of us can be a better match for it. You've got to be careful in places that feel as stiff with enchantment as this does."

Despite the fact that Peter was convinced beyond shadow of doubt that, enchantment or no enchantment a-foot, he still knew exactly what to expect up at the top, he agreed to Edmund's plan, which temporarily satisfied even Susan, though she did grumble that if something got all three of them, that left only her to look after little Lucy until she woke up-and who knew when that was going to happen? It hadn't yet, she pointed out.

A great deal of eye-rolling at Susan's silliness turned into planning of how they were going to climb up the golden rope without getting feet in each other's mouths or noses.

All things considered, the boys-young men, if you'd rather-did pretty well, but Caspian's foot did wind up on Peter's head once or twice, slowing down traffic; and Edmund cursed under his breath, for his hands and stomach were sore, and stopping so long just dangling wasn't helping.

Needless to explain, Caspian reached the top first, lifting himself in through the window. He stood, blinking in the candlelight for a moment, letting his eyes adjust before they settled on a tall, sitting figure in the middle of the room; the most stunningly beautiful girl he had ever seen-or even imagined-in all his life.

Her skin was so perfect, her complexion so spotless, that it gleamed like a star; her long fairy-tale hair fell all round her arms and upper-waist like a silken curtain.

Before Caspian could will himself to speak to her, Peter and Edmund had climbed into the window behind him, and were also standing in the room.

The beautiful girl's eyes locked on Edmund first, blinking. "Edmund of Charn, right?"

Edmund looked very uncomfortable as he nodded and said, "Yes." He felt uneasy at how quickly she knew him; that didn't seem right. Caspian knew him because he'd stolen his horse once, but Edmund was certain he had never met this splendid lady before-she did not have the sort of face that was easily forgotten.

"Hullo," said Peter, taking a step forward.

As soon as she saw Peter clearly, her face took on a new look of amazement and wonder. "You!"

"Um, me," stammered Peter, wondering what she was getting at.

"I've had dreams about you," she told him. "But you were different, younger, I think."

"I've dreamed about you, too," he confessed; "only you looked just the same as you do here and now."

She shrugged her shoulders. "So, who are you?"

"High King Peter of Narnia."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Well," said Peter, expectantly.

"Well what?"

"I've told you who I am, what about you? What's your name?"

"I'm afraid, King Peter, that I no longer remember it, it's been such a long time since I was referred to by a proper name that I can't recall. You and your friends will have to name me yourselves if you so wish it. Otherwise, you can call me Ramandu's daughter, because I remember my father's name well enough-if I can't recall my own."

"How is it that you remember his name so well but not yours?" Edmund asked suspiciously. "That doesn't make much sense."

"Doesn't it?" she said softly. "My father was a well-known star once, very well known, but now he is retired. One day he will return to the sky and will be well known again. It's easier to remember his name, you see."

Ramandu's daughter stood up and smiled uneasily at them. "Can we get on? The sooner I get out of this tower, the better I'll feel."

"You want to come with us?" Edmund didn't like that idea much.

"Well, you can't mean to leave me here!"

"I'm Caspian," Caspian blurted out, reaching over to shake Ramandu's daughter's hand; he realized he hadn't introduced himself yet. "Erm…king of…some place…" It was a wonder he had not forgotten his own name as well as that of his country.

"That's nice," said Ramandu's daughter, not sounding terribly interested, paying more attention to Peter at the moment. "You have to let me come with you."

"Fine with me," sighed Caspian, entranced, gazing at her with his head slightly tilted.

Edmund wanted to smack him.

"Why didn't you just climb down?" Peter wanted to know. "By the golden rope, I mean."

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask about that." She motioned over at a polished mahogany spinning-wheel in the far corner of the room. The remarkable thing about it was that it appeared to have straw on one side of the wheel and spun gold on the other. "I made it myself."

"You can spin straw into gold?" The high king sounded impressed.

She nodded.

"You're clever," gushed Caspian.

"Oh, do shut up, Caspian," muttered Edmund.

"So why didn't you climb out?" he pressed.

"Because," -she looked down at her ankle- "as you can see, I've a chain round my foot."

"You poor thing," said Caspian, looking angry. "Who did this to you?"

"It's a long story," she said, "I haven't the time to tell it now, do hurry up and undo it so I can leave, won't you?" She looked hopefully over at Peter.

"How?"

"I have the key." She placed a little key that looked like a teeny glittering diamond into the palm of his hand.

His brow crinkled. "If you have the key, why didn't you let yourself go?"

"Because it's enchanted," she said, a bit impatiently. "It's locked on by genetics; I cannot let myself out. Nor, I think, could my father-or any other blood relatives or closely related stars if they came to me."

"Well that makes sense," Caspian said firmly. "Best set her free."

Peter, while not besotted like the king of Telmar evidently was, thought he could trust her-he felt, perhaps because of all those dreams, as if he knew her-and knew her well at that. Edmund was not so sure.

"Look here," said Edmund, staring at her very hard. "I'm no coward; but when I look at your face, I feel afraid. Because when I look at you I believe every word you say whether I really want to or not-that's just the sort of thing that might happen with a witch, too. How are we to know you're a friend?"

"You can't know," she whispered meekly; "you can only believe-or not."

For a moment, Peter had a very queer feeling, as if he'd heard something like that before; and he realized why, yes, he had. From his very own mouth, no less. He'd said something similar to Susan when they'd first met. And, well, wasn't it odd that this lady had the same trick of speech?

"I think we'd best let her go," said Caspian.

"I know you do!" huffed Edmund.

"I'll undo the chain," Peter finally offered. "If you'll let me."

"Well hurry up, then." Ramandu's daughter smiled with relief.

So, Peter took the key and placed it into the key-hole in the chain. But it was the oddest thing! He couldn't make it turn. It stayed straight no matter how much pressure he put on it.

"It doesn't budge," Peter told her.

"That's impossible!" she exclaimed, clearly dismayed.

While Edmund was still a bit wary of Ramandu's daughter, not fully convinced she was on the right side, he thought this whole business about the chain was getting rather old. Clearly Peter and Caspian were dead-set on releasing the girl and so it didn't matter what Edmund felt regarding this at any rate, but Peter was proving quite useless at getting the chain off. Edmund had had some experience with chains and being chained up in his life, and of course he knew a bit about enchantments as well, so he figured it would be easier for him to figure out what was amiss with the key than for a clueless high king.

"Here," Edmund gave in, "let me try."

"Be my guest." Peter's fingers were red now from his fruitless attempts.

Edmund had scarcely to touch the key before it turned as easy as butter. He looked at Peter, puzzled. This was what had been giving the king such a hard time? This which had taken him half a second to undo? Really?

"Thank you," breathed Ramandu's daughter, so thankful she hardly knew what to do with herself for a moment.

"Let's go," said Peter at last. "Susan and Lucy will be wondering if we're all right."

"Wait," said Ramandu's daughter, walking over to a small cupboard. "We might need a bow and arrows if we're going to travel in the forest; I noticed none of you men seem to have one about you. There's an old bow here somewhere. The string will be a bit perished, but I'll just spin a new string from straw-it'll be gold, of course, but that's plenty strong enough. It'll only take a minute."

When she had gotten that all sorted, a new string of gold and all, and had strapped the quiver of arrows to Caspian for him to carry down the tower, they all climbed out the window.

Upon reaching solid ground, they saw Susan and Lucy running over to them. Lucy liked Ramandu's daughter at once and in a single glance they became good friends; Susan was more like Edmund, uncertain yet polite.

It was all arranged that before there would be any exchange of stories or explanations, something like a meal ought to be fixed. They gathered up arm-fulls of the rapunzel (which Ramandu's daughter assured them was safe to eat) and Susan-somewhat reluctantly-shot a couple of non-talking rabbits with the bow and arrows loaned to her. They built a campfire and the girls sat a-ways off while the boys skinned the meat. Finally, when all was finished, they were all together round the fire and tucking it in good. Even Lucy, who had never eaten rabbit before, had seconds.

It was then, keeping his eye on Ramandu's daughter, looking for signs of her maybe being a witch, that Edmund noticed something.

Ramandu's daughter and Peter were sitting side by side and although neither of them seemed to notice, they ate the exact same way. Both had the same habit of folding the rapunzel over a little strip of meat before taking a bite and wiping their mouths with the back of their left hands when they were finished. They also sat the same way and, shockingly, their profiles, as far as chins at least went, looked freakishly alike.

"Susan, look!" Edmund nudged her shoulder and pointed discreetly.

Susan noticed the similarities and her eyes widened with surprise.

"I found some blue berries on a bush over there," Caspian said, offering them to Ramandu's daughter.

"Hey, what about the rest of us?" demanded Edmund, forgetting about Peter for a second, feeling a little cheated.

"You should see how Peter eats blue berries," laughed Lucy conversationally.

"Oh, it's disgusting!" Caspian cut in. "He puts them into his sandwiches in a paste, no matter what kind of sandwich it is! I mean it's one thing with peanut butter, but he does it with ham, too!"

Ramandu's daughter's face flushed. "No way!"

Peter shrugged indifferently. "I think it tastes good…I like it."

"Peter," said Ramandu's daughter awkwardly, "I do the same thing."

"Seriously? Most people find it gross."

"I know, I don't get it." She smiled at him.

"This is getting weird," Lucy whispered to Edmund.

"Lu, we passed weird a long, long while back," he replied.

AN: Please review.