Susan was waiting at the front window when the cab containing her younger brother and sister arrived. "Peter! They're here!" she cried, running out to meet them.

Lucy was first out of the cab. "Susan!" she cried, throwing her arms around her older sister, "How was America? What was it like? Oh! I have so much to tell you, and I can hardly wait to hear all your stories!"

Peter waited at the door as Edmund approached. As he watched his younger brother ascend the front steps, Peter sensed growth, a more mature carriage in his brother's step. Edmund looked up as he set down his and Lucy's suitcases.

"Welcome," Peter said, extending his hand. Edmund took it and shook it firmly, but hesitated without releasing Peter's hand. The two brothers met glances only briefly before pulling each other into a hug. "Good to see you, Ed," Peter said. He picked up Lucy's bag and took it upstairs as Edmund went into the sitting room.

He and Lucy had spent the summer holidays at their Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold's house, where they'd gone to Narnia with their cousin Eustace. Edmund chuckled at the memory, when a movement in the corner startled him out of his musings. He looked over and saw a girl who looked no older than Lucy huddled into a small ball, knees tucked tight against her body. She curled toward—but not against—the corner as if intentionally refusing to look at him. Susan walked in with her arm around Lucy's shoulder.

"Who's that?" Edmund asked.

Susan immediately grew somber. "I found her tied to a raft, soaking wet and unconscious, while boating in America. She doesn't seem to understand when I talk to her, she won't let anyone touch her, and she won't move from that corner. She's been there two days now. I wanted to dress her in something dry, but my clothes are too big. She looks about your size, Lu, and I figured—if it's all right with you—she could borrow some of your things."

Lucy's compassionate heart was touched. "Of course she can," she cried, running to the girl, but Susan pulled her back.

"Stop! She behaves like a caged animal, and she might hurt you if you try to touch her. She has no idea we just want to help her."

Intrigued, Edmund drew closer to the girl, trying his best to be as non-threatening as possible. The girl finally looked up, but only as far as his hands, not his face. The closer Edmund got, the more terrified she became.

"I don't think it's help she needs; it's trust." He stopped a respectful distance from her and waited.

Melanie had been on the couch when she awoke two days previously. She had been cleaned, most likely by the girl, and—oh no! She was wearing a dressing gown! Probably it belonged to the sister. Now that it was touching her, it was contaminated. Melanie quickly sprang from the couch and curled in the corner, trying to touch as little of the house as possible. She stayed in that corner, for there alone she figured she was safe. Many times both the boy and girl tried to come to her. How many times she wished she could tell them how dangerous that was! She now knew these people were not like Them. They weren't going to hurt her, but she could see herself accidentally hurting them because of their lack of knowledge about her.

Now there were two others, a boy and a girl. The boy was moving closer to her. Melanie didn't want him so close. His lips moved, but his hands did not. She had no way of knowing what he said. Finally he lifted his hand. Oh dear! Was he going to touch her? No; he pointed to his eyes and then to the girl. His eyes were questioning. He was asking if she could see. Melanie nodded. She could understand him, but oh! If only he understood her! The boy pointed to his mouth and then to her again: could she speak? She shook her head. Finally he pointed twice more: to his ears, then to her. Could she hear? She shook her head as a lump formed in her throat. That was the whole reason she was accursed!

No, she could not hear, not at all-but she wished more than anything to be able to do so! He brought out a piece of white paper and a pencil.

Can you write? he wrote, and handed her the pencil.

She took it without thinking and wrote, Yes. She handed the pencil back to the boy before she realized what she'd done. Her heart sank with horror; had she really done the unspeakable? Had she willfully contaminated another person? What would happen to him now? Would he be cursed as she was? Such thoughts whirled around Melanie's head as the oblivious boy accepted the pencil and wrote, Will you trust me?

"Will you trust me?" she wanted to ask, especially after her thoughtlessness. She may have just cursed him along with herself. She looked at his question and thought hard. Could she really trust him? Should she trust him? Neither he nor the others obviously considered her a threat, but would they, later on? If she wanted to trust them, it was a risk she would have to be willing to take.

She held out her hand, palm up, a symbol of agreement. He thought she wanted the pencil. She shook her head and motioned for him to put his hand on hers. He did so without hesitating. Melanie looked up at him in shock; Lucasta had been kind, but she had never touched Melanie, in spite of everything else they did together. This was the first human contact Melanie had consciously experienced, for as far back as she could remember. She took a deep breath before moving to the next part of the pact: the promise sign. She placed her hand over her heart, curled it into a fist, and placed the fist on his hand. Now his hand was sandwiched between hers, yet she could see no aversion in his face, nor did his hand flinch. Entirely of his own volition, he mimicked her gesture, placing his hand over his heart, and grabbing her whole fist. He valued her trust so much that he was willing to touch her hands—the most contaminated part of her body, They said—to secure it. That settled it; she could trust him. she picked up the pencil and paper, but stopped for a moment.

She could trust him all right, but could she trust them all? They were all obviously related. She knew in her heart they wanted to help, but could she really trust them? Screwing up all the courage she could muster, she took up the pencil and boldly wrote, Yes beneath his question. They all smiled, and the boy took her hands and stood. She had no choice but to stand with him. What would he do? Did she make a mistake in choosing to trust him? He led her out of the corner and onto the sofa. Still with reservations, she reluctantly sat next to him.

What is your name? he wrote. She thought for a long time.

Finally, she wrote her name, Melanie, on the paper. She followed with a question of her own.
What are your names?

The boy wrote each name and pointed to the others in turn. The oldest boy was Peter, then Susan, the boy's name was Edmund, and Lucy was the youngest.

Where am I? she wrote next.

England, Edmund responded.

Where is that?

In answer to her question, Edmund brought her into another room. This room had many shelves with books, a small table, and soft carpet. Edmund led the girl to the corner of the room where stood a large map wrapped around a ball. He spun the ball and pointed to a small island on the map labeled "ENGLAND." The girl thought it amazing that one could have a single map of the whole world.

At length, Edmund handed her the paper. On it were the words how, why, and what, all crossed out, then, Where are you from? She looked for it on the globe, wanting to point it out to him just as he had, but she couldn't find it. She wrote the name of the island, and then asked, What is this called? She pointed to the ball.
Globe, Edmund wrote, and left the room quickly.

Susan, meanwhile, was not enjoying herself. Peter had insisted on asking Lucy about their stay with Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta. Lucy then proceeded to account how she, Ed, and their bratty cousin Eustace had all gone to Narnia together. Now, it wasn't Narnia itself that made Susan uncomfortable—though maybe it did, a little bit. It was her siblings' unquestioning faith in their adventures. Lucy was such an imaginative child—after all, hadn't she been the first to "discover" Narnia?—she could have been fooling with Peter, yet here he was, taking it all in and believing her every word. Did they ever have any doubts at all? Lucy, of course, was still at the age when imaginations were still very real, but Peter—surely Peter was only being nice to Lucy. Surely he knew better than to explicitly believe something like Narnia . . . didn't he? Were they crazy for believing, or was she crazy for doubting?

Edmund came in at this point. "Ed!" Susan said, maybe a bit too loudly. "Did she show you where she came from?"
Edmund looked scared, like he'd just received the shock of his life. "She—she—" he tried, but nodded his head without speaking and showed them the paper. Underneath his question, the answer hit Susan's troubled heart like a slap in the face:

NEW TELMAR.*

*Author's Note: I don't think I ever quite explain New Telmar being Melanie's home, and how it came into existence, quite. In "researching" for the initial idea of using Telmar as the central location for this trilogy, I came across some information somewhere that mentioned that Lewis, when he referred to pirates coming to Telmar, might have been indirectly referencing another story, Mutiny on the H.M.S. Bounty by William Bligh. This mutiny happened in the South Pacific in about 1788 or so. I reasoned that, if this was so, then perhaps the Telmarines who returned to our world at the end of Prince Caspian in fact returned to the same time and place that their ancestor's left: an island in the South Pacific in 1788. Not knowing anything about the surrounding world and having no way to really get off the island, they decide to form a community. Then, too, the rest of the world is wholly unaware of their existence, so the "nation" of New Telmar is formed on earth, almost 200 years before the Pevensies' time. That's where it came from.-KM