[Castles and horses--he barely knows what a castle is, save for the fact that it's something like a mansion, something large and tall and not altogether unlike the home she and her brothers had here, but different. And it's only then that he really stops, and thinks, and lets his eyes close as he tries to picture the elusive Narnia he's heard so much about and yet never tried to put into images painted with words.]

When I think of Narnia, your castle in Narnia, I think of it like Mags' house down the way back home. There aren't ballrooms and chandeliers...though I guess there are feasts. Plenty to eat, always, and the chatter that comes with having lots of people all in the same place at once. But it's white boards and a gray roof and a tower on there somewhere because your room is in the tower, and there's a little door that lets out right onto the beach, and your thrones are made of wood salvaged from old ships that still smell like sea salt, and there's a set of brown wooden steps--circular steps, and the third one creaks, but they're polished smooth so you can go barefoot--that go upstairs to cozy little rooms with low ceilings and small round windows that look out over the water. And then outside, it's the beach on the one side and a forest on the other, and that's where your lion lives, to the east, by a cave hidden in the woods.

I guess that's not really what a castle is like, though, is it? Or any of it, probably. But that's what I imagine.

[It's the happiest thing he can think of.]