“Little son of Adam， you shall have help，” said Aslan. He then turned to the Horse who had been standing quietly beside them all this time， swishing his tail to keep the flies off， and listening with his head on one side as if the conversation were a little difficult to understand.
“My dear，” said Aslan to the Horse， “would you like to be a winged horse？”
You should have seen how the Horse shook its mane and how its nostrils widened， and the little tap it gave the ground with one back hoof. Clearly it would very much like to be a winged horse. But it only said：
“If you wish， Aslan.if you really mean.I don‘t know why it should be me.I’m not a very clever horse.”
“Be winged. Be the father of all flying horses，” roared Aslanin a voice that shook the ground. “Your name is Fledge.”
