m Lyra woke up from a dream in which Pantalaimon had e back to her and revealed his final shape; and she had loved it, but now she had no idea what it was.
The sun hadnt long risen, and the air had a fresh bloom. She could see the sunlight through the open door of the little thatched hut she slept in, Marys house. She lay for a while listening. There were birds outside, and some kind of cricket, and Mary was breathing quietly in her sleep nearby.
Lyra sat up and found herself naked. She was indignant for a moment, and then she saw some clothes folded beside her on the floor: a shirt of Marys, a length of soft, light patterned cloth that she could tie into a skirt. She put them on, feeling sed in the shirt, but at least det.
She left the hut. Pantalaimon was nearby; she was sure of it. She could almost hear him talking and laughing. It must mean that he was safe, and they were still ected somehow. And when he fave her and came back, the hours theyd spend just talking, just telling each other everything...
Will was still asleep uhe shelter tree, the lazy thing. Lyra thought of waking him up, but if she was on her own, she could swim in the river. She happily used to swim naked in the river Cherwell with all the other Oxford children, but it would be quite different with Will, and she blushed even to think of it.
So she went down to the water alone in the pearl-colored m. Among the reeds at the edge there was a tall, slender bird like a heron, standing perfectly still on one leg.
She walked quietly and slowly so as not to disturb it, but the bird took no more notice of her than if shed been a twig oer.
"Well," she said.
She left the clothes on the bank and slipped into the river. It was seawater ing in oide, and it was strao Lyra, who had never swum in salt water before. She swam hard to keep warm, and then came out and huddled on the bank, shivering. Pan would help dry her, normally. Was he a fish, laughing at her from uhe water? Or a beetle, creeping into the clothes to tickle her, or a bird? Or was he somewhere else entirely with the other daemon, and with Lyra not on his mind at all? ""
The sun was warm now, and she was soon dry. She dressed in ,c Marys loose shirt again and, seeing some flat stones by the bank, went to fetch her own clothes to wash them. But she found that someone had already dohat: hers and Wills, too, were laid over the springy twigs of a fragrant bush, nearly dry.
Will was stirring. She sat nearby and called him softly.
"Will! Wake up!"
"Where are we?" he said at once, and sat up, reag for the knife.
"Safe," she said, looking away. "And they washed our clothes, too, or Dr. Malone did. Ill get yours. Theyre nearly dry..."
She passed them in through the curtain of leaves and sat with her ba till he was dressed.
"I swam in the river," she said. "I went to look for Pan, but I think hes hiding."
"Thats a good idea. I mean a swim. I feel as if Ive got years and years of dirt on me... Ill go down and wash."
While he was gone, Lyra wandered around the village, not looking too closely at anything in case she broke some code of politeness, but curious about everything she saw. Some of the houses were very old and some quite new, hut they were all built in much the same way out of wood and clay and thatch. There was nothing crude about them; each door and window frame and lintel was covered in subtle patterns, but patter