Read A Year with Aslan: Daily Reflections from The Chronicles of Narnia for Free Online

favorable impression on Shasta? What do they represent to him? What might people notice about you if they saw you walking by?

 
    J ANUARY 26
    Aslan Roars
    T HE LIGHT WAS CHANGING. Low down in the east, Aravir, the morning star of Narnia, gleamed like a little moon. Aslan, who seemed larger than before, lifted his head, shook his mane, and roared.
    The sound, deep and throbbing at first like an organ beginning on a low note, rose and became louder, and then far louder again, till the earth and air were shaking with it. It rose up from that hill and floated across all Narnia. Down in Miraz’s camp men woke, stared palely in one another’s faces, and grasped their weapons. Down below that in the Great River, now at its coldest hour, the heads and shoulders of the nymphs, and the great weedy-bearded head of the river-god, rose from the water. Beyond it, in every field and wood, the alert ears of rabbits rose from their holes, the sleepy heads of birds came out from under wings, owls hooted, vixens barked, hedgehogs grunted, the trees stirred. In towns and villages mothers pressed babies close to their breasts, staring with wild eyes, dogs whimpered, and men leaped up groping for lights. Far away on the northern frontier the mountain giants peered from the dark gateways of their castles.
    —Prince Caspian
    What kind of emotions would you say Aslan’s roar stirs in those who hear it? How can one sound represent different things to different people? Where do you see that in our world today?

 
    J ANUARY 27
    Real Magic
    Y OU ?” SAID THE QUEEN in a still more terrible voice. Then, in one stride, she crossed the room, seized a great handful of Uncle Andrew’s grey hair and pulled his head back so that his face looked up into hers. Then she studied his face just as she had studied Digory’s face in the palace of Charn. He blinked and licked his lips nervously all the time. At last she let him go: so suddenly that he reeled back against the wall.
    “I see,” she said scornfully, “you are a Magician—of a sort. Stand up, dog, and don’t sprawl there as if you were speaking to your equals. How do you come to know Magic? You are not of royal blood, I’ll swear.”
    “Well—ah—not perhaps in the strict sense,” stammered Uncle Andrew. “Not exactly royal, Ma’am. The Ketterleys are, however, a very old family. An old Dorsetshire family, Ma’am.”
    “Peace,” said the Witch. “I see what you are. You are a little, peddling Magician who works by rules and books. There is no real Magic in your blood and heart. Your kind was made an end of in my world a thousand years ago. But here I shall allow you to be my servant.”
    —The Magician’s Nephew
    What might the Queen mean about having Magic in your blood and heart, as compared to Uncle Andrew’s type of Magic? What have you learned by closely studying someone’s face?

 
    J ANUARY 28
    Strawberry Speaks
    A LL THIS TIME THE CABBY had been trying to catch
Strawberry’s eye. Now he did. “Now, Strawberry, old boy,” he said. “You know me. You ain’t going to stand there and say as you don’t know me.”
    “What’s the Thing talking about, Horse?” said several voices.
    “Well,” said Strawberry very slowly, “I don’t exactly know, I think most of us don’t know much about anything yet. But I’ve a sort of idea I’ve seen a thing like this before. I’ve a feeling I lived somewhere else—or was something else—before Aslan woke us all up a few minutes ago. It’s all very muddled. Like a dream. But there were things like these three in the dream.”
    “What?” said the Cabby. “Not know me? Me what used to bring you a hot mash of an evening when you was out of sorts? Me what rubbed you down proper? Me what never forgot to put your cloth on you if you was standing in the cold? I wouldn’t ’ave thought it of you, Strawberry.”
    “It does begin to come back,” said the Horse thoughtfully. “Yes. Let me think now, let me think. Yes, you used