"Oh, she was the best of us," says Susan, immediately. The kettle is boiling again, so she adds hot water to her half-drunk tea and takes a fortifying swallow. "The epithet the Narnians gave her was 'the Valiant,' and she was bright and faithful and ebullient and good through-and-through. Lucy was everybody's favorite. Peter's, Aslan's... eventually Edmund's. Mine. Magical things always happened around her, perhaps because she saw magic in everything. It could be the dregs of winter, with everything gray and brown all over, and she'd still look at a slant of light through a broken tree-branch and say, 'Look, Su, doesn't that look just like a dryad's arm?' She had even less of a stomach for war than I did, but she was always first on a battlefield after the fighting stop with medicine and soothing words. She wanted to be a doctor or a nurse, if she couldn't have Narnia."