In the depths of her sleep she heard it. A sound so misplaced that no doubt it was fruit of her imagination; it was not possible that something in the universe could produce such a loud, sickly, cracking noise.
There were three of the noises in a row, some louder than others, and a pause. By now, her eyes were still just as heavy as before, but her mind conscious enough to understand that this was not a dream, but an external impulse.
One more of those dreadful sounds. She snapped her eyes open, just as a tender hand started to delicately caress her hair. What was happening? Was Serafina back already? Was Mr. Scoresby with her?
"Lyra" a soft voice called to her, a voice that didn't seem to belong here, too sweet and too grown for this haunted middle of nowhere.
She looked up, but it wasn't the Queen of Witches that she saw. Following the hand now on her cheek, up its arm, there came the face of none other than Mrs. Coulter.
Lyra felt as she paled with the shock. Her mother was here.
Where was Serafina? And Will? She looked quickly around; there were bodies all everywhere. Was this the noise that she'd heard? The soldiers were arriving now, however, the few witches standing did nothing to stop them. They only looked emptily straight ahead and let them come.
It was with a sudden realisation that Lyra understood what had happened: they had fallen victims of the spectres. Her eyes widened looking for their dear Queen, and, with relief, found nothing. She wasn't back yet.
"Shh," Her mothers' voice called from above her "don't look at them darling." and then, she did something quite unexpected: she hugged Lyra; her arms held her tighter than ever before.
She stood up, still holding her daughter, and gently led the girl away from the scene.
Lyra looked back, where was Will? Had he left her? No, he wouldn't do that.
He had escaped. Perhaps he was watching the whole scene unfold, hidden somewhere nearby. It was a smart thing to do, after all, he couldn't help her if he was caught too, could he?
No, she supposed not.
