The two daemons moved through the silent village, in and out of the shadows, padding cat-formed across the moonlit gathering-floor, pausing outside the open door of Marys house.
Cautiously they looked inside and saw only the sleeping woman; so they withdrew and moved through the moonlight again, toward the shelter tree.
Its long brarailed their fragrant corkscrew leaves almost down to the ground. Very slowly, very careful not to rustle a leaf or snap a fallen twig, the two shapes slipped in through the leaf curtain and saw what they were seeking: the boy and the girl, fast asleep in each others arms.
They moved closer over the grass and touched the sleepers softly with nose, paw, whiskers, bathing in the life-giving warmth they gave off, but being infinitely careful not to wake them.
As they checked their people (gently ing Wills fast-healing wound, lifting the lock of hair off Lyras face), there was a soft sound behind them.
Instantly, in total silence, both daemons sprang around, being wolves: mad light eyes, bare white teeth, mena every line.
A woman stood there, outlined by the moon. It was not Mary, and when she spoke, they heard her clearly, though her voice made no sound.
"e with me," she said.
Pantalaimons daemo leapt within him, but he said nothing until he could greet her away from the sleepers uhe tree.
"Serafina Pekkala!" he said joyfully. "Where have you been? Do you know whats happened?"
"Hush. Lets fly to a place where we talk," she said, mindful of the sleeping villagers.
Her branch of cloud-pine lay by the door of Marys house, and as she took it up, the two daemons ged into birds, a nightingale, an owl, and flew with her over the thatched roofs, over the grasslands, over the ridge, and toward the wheel tree grove, as huge as a castle, its looking like curds of silver in the moonlight.
There Serafina Pekkala settled on the highest fortable branch, among the open flowers drinking in the Dust, and the two birds perched nearby.
"You wont be birds for long," she said. "Very soon now your shapes will settle. Look around and take this sight into your memory."
"What will we be?" said Pantalaimon.
"Youll find out soohan you think. Listen," said Serafina Pekkala, "and Ill tell you some witch-lore that witches know. The reason I do that is that you are here with me, and your humans are down there, sleeping. Who are the only people for whom that is possible?"
"Witches," said Pantalaimon, "and shamans. So..."
"In leaving you both on the shores of the world of the dead, Lyra and Will did something, without knowing it, that witches have done sihe first time there were witches. Theres a region of our north land, a desolate, abominable place, where a great catastrophe happened in the childhood of the world, and where nothing has lived sino daemons e. To bee a witch, a girl must cross it alone and leave her daemon behind. You know the suffering they must undergo.
But having do, they find that their daemons were not severed, as in Bolvangar; they are still one whole being; but now they roam free, and go to far places arahings and bring baowledge.
"And you are not severed, are you?"
"No," said Pantalaimon. "We are still one. But it was so painful, and we were shtened..."
"Well," said Serafina, "the two of them will not fly like witches, and they will not live as long as we do; but thanks to what they did,