"Oh," Susan Pevensie said, staring at the girl who had jumped around the corner, the gun from one of the bizzre salt-and-pepper-shaker aliens in her hand; she looked Susan's age, but wasn't; there was something old in her eyes, something like Susan's eyes.

"You're different, like me," Susan Pevensie said, head tilted; something in this woman spoke that she had lived many lives, though she did not smell like Narnia.

The woman relaxed and nodded, though she could not possibly know what Susan meant; she held out a hand and smiled, and Susan grabbed it and started running.