And what was worse, it had begun to bleed again.
When Serafina looked at it, she put more herbs on the wound, and tied the silk tighter than ever, but this time her face was troubled. He didnt want to question her, for what would be the point?
It lain to him that the spell hadnt worked, and he could see she k too.
As darkness fell, he heard Lyra e to lie down close by, and presently he heard a soft purring.
Her daemon, cat-formed, was dozing with folded paws only a foot or two away from him, and Will whispered, "Pantalaimon?"
The daemons eyes opened. Lyra didnt stir. Pantalaimon whispered, "Yes?"
"Pan, am I going to die?"
"The witches wo you die. Nor will Lyra."
"But the spell didnt work. I keep losing blood. I t have much left to lose. And its bleeding again, and it wont stop. Im frightened...."
"Lyra doesnt think you are."
"Doesnt she?"
"She thinks youre the bravest fighter she ever saw, as brave as lorek Byrnison."
"I suppose I better try not to seem frightehen," Will said. He was quiet for a minute or so, and then he said, "I think Lyras braver than me. I think shes the best friend I ever had."
"She thinks that about you as well," whispered the daemon.
Presently Will closed his eyes.
Lyra lay unmoving, but her eyes were wide open in the dark, and her heart was beating hard.
When Will became aware of things, it was pletely dark, and his hand was hurting more than ever. He sat up carefully and saw a fire burning not far away, where Lyra was trying to toast some bread on a forked stick. There were a couple of birds roasting on a spit as well, and as Will came to sit nearby, Serafina Pekkala flew down.
"Will," she said, "eat these leaves before you have any other food."
She gave him a handful of soft bitter-tasting leaves somewhat like sage, and he chewed them silently and forced them down. They were astri, but he felt more awake and less cold, and the better for it.
They ate the roasted birds, seasoning them with lemon juice, and then another witch brought some blueberries shed found below the scree, and theches gathered around the fire.
They talked quietly; some of them had flown high up to spy, and one had seen a balloohe sea. Lyra sat up at once.
"Mr. Scoresbys balloon?" she said.
"There were two men in it, but it was too far away to see who they were. A storm was gathering behind them."
Lyra clapped her hands. "If Mr. Scoresbys ing," she said, "well be able to fly, Will! Oh, I hope its him! I never said good-bye to him, and he was so kind. I wish I could see him again, I really do...."
The witch Juta Kamainen was listening, with her red-breasted robin daemht-eyed on her shoulder, because the mention of Lee Scoresby had reminded her of the quest hed set out on. She was the witch who had loved Stanislaus Grumman and whose love hed turned down, the witch Serafina Pekkala had brought into this world to prevent her from killing him in their own.
Serafina might have noticed, but something else happened: she held up her hand and lifted her head, as did all the other witches. Will and Lyra could hear very faintly to the north the cry of some night bird. But it wasnt a bird; the witches k at once for a daemon. Serafina Pekkala stood up, gazing ily into the sky.
"I think its Ruta Skadi," she said.
They kept still, tilting their heads to the wide sileraining to hear.
And t