Dear Lizzie,

I know you're reading all these Underland letters. I did that old trick of putting one of my hairs on a page, then going out to help make supper, and when I came back hours later, it was gone. So I know someone was picking up my notebook even if it was put back in the same place. How do I know it was you? Dad was the one I was helping make supper, Boots was playing in the kitchen and getting in the way, Mom wasn't up from her afternoon nap yet, but you were home, even though you had disappeared - doing homework, you said.

But you know what? It's okay if you're reading these letters. You're part of the Underland as much as I am. They owe winning the whole last war to you. Although you can't really say that anybody won. It would be more accurate to say you survived. That last battle was pretty horrendous. Ares and I saw a lot of it from where we were high up on the wall looking over the Field of Tarturas - or whatever it's called. I wasn't paying much attention.

I don't want to talk about that. Bad memories. You reading these letters - that's what I want to talk about. You should go ahead and read them. I hope it makes you feel better to know I'm not happy with this arrangement either. Maybe you should start writing letters of your own - not that I expect my letters to actually get to the people I'm writing to. But it helps to talk to them even though I'm not supposed to even mention them. It keeps them real. It keeps what happened real. And it DID happen no matter what anybody else says.

Do you miss Grandma? I do.

Gregor