Once lorek Byrnison was out of sight, Lyra felt a great weakness coming over her, and she turned blindly and felt for Pantalaimon, “Oh, Pan, dear, I cant go on! Im so frightened—and so tired—all this way, and Im scared to death! I wish it was someone else instead of me, I do honestly!”

Her daemon nuzzled at her neck in his cat form, warm and comforting.

“I just dont know what we got to do,” Lyra sobbed. “Its too much for us, Pan, we cant...”

She clung to him blindly, rocking back and forth and letting the sobs cry out wildly over the bare snow.

“And even if—if Mrs. Coulter got to Roger first, thered be no saving him, because shed take him back to Bolvangar, or worse, and theyd kill me out of vengeance....Why do they do these things to children, Pan? Do they all hate children so much, that they want to tear them apart like this? Why do they do it?”

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