Lupa's Letter: February 21st, 1884

Dearest Jessica

I must apologise, I realise it’s been quite some time since I last wrote to you. I’m afraid the situation at home has only deteriorated further in your absence. The invading forces continue to march north, and we’ve received an influx of injured survivors from neighbouring towns. There are whispers, growing in number and intensity. Our people are afraid. The markets no longer trade, the church has closed its doors to the parish, and the vicar has not been seen in many moons. I’ve witnessed people abandon their homes with such unnatural haste, carrying only the lightest of their possessions, telling not a soul of their destination or whether they would be returning. I overheard Mother trying to convince Father that we should do the same, but he refuses. “This is our home”, he tells her sternly. “I shall defend it with my last breath, and I expect no less of you”. I fear his stubbornness may cast a shadow over his judgement, but I’ve neither the strength nor the patience to question it. For the moment it seems, we will be staying as we are.
I do miss you dearly, Jessica. I pray you are safe and content, that Yharnham is treating you well, and that you return to us quickly. I must end this correspondence here; my lantern has almost exhausted its fuel. I trust this letter will find you in good health, and I eagerly anticipate your response.

Yours truly
Lupa