A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers! Your comments make my day. Only one more letter to go!

I also want to thank my beta reader, OldFashionedGirl95, for again beta reading. She has made these letters so much better, especially in their 1940s British feel, and also for her words of encouragement and advice. I now know what authors mean in their acknowledgments sections, when they thank their editors for making the book better than it would have been.

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to C. S. Lewis. Not me. End Disclaimer.

Dearest Susan,

I have not heard from you for some time; this surprised me, for Edmund is the one who does not answer his letters, and you have always been prompt about it. But, no matter, I thought you might like to know what we have been doing. I was dreadfully sorry to hear from Mother that you would not be coming home after all, but I hope that you continue to have a wonderful time at Woodhall.
Mother showed us your letter, and the photograph with Jane and Marianne Bright, and George Rydon. He is indeed handsome, and though Edmund was concerned about your getting too chummy with him, I am sure you are well capable of taking care of yourself.

Father's cough is better, but he seems to have given it to Mother; it is nothing serious, however, and she has painted another lovely picture which she hopes will do well in the sales.

Six days ago, we met with the Professor and Aunt Polly (by we, I mean of course Edmund, Peter, Eustace, Jill and I) and we talked far into the night about Narnia. I do wish you might have been there, Su, because right in the middle of dinner, the oddest thing happened! A man appeared to us, like in a vision, and he was bound to something, but it was too shadowy to see what. And he was so pale and weary and sorrowful looking that it made my heart break. He opened his mouth and tried so very hard to speak, but could not, though Peter commanded him to. After that, he simply melted away. We are certain that he is Narnian, both from his clothes and his face.

The professor had thought that something was up in Narnia, which was partly why he asked us to come to his house, and now we are certain that we are wanted there, but of course, only Eustace and Jill can go back. Now Peter and Edmund have gone to London, to the Professor's old house, to dig up the rings from so long ago. It is very exciting, and I know we would each have paid a great deal of money to be able to go along, but of course that is not possible.

Peter wired just an hour ago that he and Edmund have got the rings and will be waiting for us with them. Eustace and Jill are staying here, and you should see the strange looks that we get from Father and Mother, what with all the laughter and secretive glances we give each other. I am so glad for them! Though of course I wish that I could go along. But it will take only a moment for us, and we shall soon be hearing of all their adventures and, oh, it will be just like old times. I have so longed for news of our dear land.

We have been wondering all this time of what may be wrong in Narnia, and last night I had the queerest dream. In it, there were dark figures walking about a fire, and behind the fire was a small building. I knew at once that it was Narnia, but there was something dreadful in the air. I fear for our dear country, Susan. I have been praying to Aslan ever since our dinner at the Professor's, and despite my cheerfulness, there is an undercurrent in my heart that tells me that this will be a visit to Narnia like no other, just as that hunt so long ago for the White Stag was no ordinary hunt. Something is going to happen, though I do not know what it is or will be, and if this should happen to be the last letter you ever receive from me, then know that I love you with all my heart and will never stop hoping and praying that you remember Narnia. May the Lion be with you, Susan.

Eustace tells me we must leave very soon for the train station and that I'll have to post this on the way. There is suddenly a weight on my heart, but I know that Aslan is always with me, and I am not dreadfully afraid.

My deepest love and affection to you,

Your sister,

Lucy