Chapter four
Lyra woke up feeling stiff and cold. She moved her arms slowly to get the feeling back. She'd spent the night sleeping sporadically behind a pile of old crates down by the canal, sheltered from the wind and any eyes that might be watching out for her.
Once the cold began to wear off and the golden morning sun invited her to leave her hiding place, she decided to get some breakfast. She picked up the tattered carpetbag that she'd thrown a few things in the night before and set off.
When she had left Richards's house not only had she seen his true character but also his words had been ringing in her head. "I'll stop at nothing." and now she knew he wouldn't. Oxford wasn't safe anymore if she wanted to stay single, or alive so she had decided to lay low until she had a plan. Maybe she could go to Svalbard or to Serafinas witch clan, but then the old problem remained, she was human and always would be.
So the night before she had gone home to get supplies. She'd cleaned and dressed her cheek, painful although not too deep. She'd grabbed some money for food and soap and things. Maybe she could buy zeppelin tickets to London or Bristol.
She had also grabbed some fresh clothes and, of course, the Alethiometer and her study books in which she had the harder of the meanings written down.
And one other thing was in that bag, nestling in one corner, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, a small red flower from the crown of Serafina Pekkala. She had promised Lyra that they would always be sisters and that using the flower, Lyra could call her whenever she needed help. The flower was as fresh as the day she'd been given it, all those years ago. Lyra had thought about calling Serafina the night before but after all what could the witch have done?
The gash on her cheek began to sting painfully again as the streets began to fill with people and market stalls. "Lyra, you better cover your cheek or people will stare." Pan whispered from her shoulder. He was right. She pulled a light, summery silk scarf from her bag and wrapped it round her neck, pulling it up to cover her cheek.
Soon she came across a small quiet looking café. She brought a cup of coffee and a stale looking cake, which was all they had. She sat in the back corner and tried to look as uninteresting as possible, after all that had worked in Bolvangar and it was what Will had done all his life.
"What are we going to do now?" whispered Pan.
" I don't know, I guess we'll have to find some where to stay. We can't go home, that's the first place he'll look"
"You should have listened to me, I knew he wasn't trust worthy."
" I know pan. I'm sorry. I messed up. Now we won't be able to go to Dame Hannah's collage anymore, we've got no home and what will we do when our money runs out? We can't go to the master for more; it's far too dangerous. We'll stave Pan." She rested her head in her hands and felt the hot prick of tears in her eyes. Stop crying, she told herself furiously, you'll be noticed for sure.
She felt the soft warmth off fur wipe her tears away as Pan pressed his head against hers.
"No we won't Lyra, we'll never let that happen." He whispered to her "we'll find somewhere safe to stay. Don't worry. Your not just anyone, your Lyra Silvertongue named by the great king Iorek himself."
The very thought that had made her fight off Richard the night before had no effect on her now.
"I'm not sure anymore pan" she sighed.
"Of course you are," he said affectingly licking her face.
Maybe, she thought, maybe.
Will stood outside a cramped looking shop. The sign outside said, "Antiques - Repaired and sold". Well what Will wanted fixed was definitely an antique so here was as good a place as any to start looking for someone who could fix the knife.
As he went in a little bell rang to announce his entrance. He looked around. Every wall of the shop was covered with old books, bedpans, copper kettles, Victorian dolls and puppets. Rusty buckets and boat ores hung from the ceiling. A winding path led through old dressers and cupboards stopping in front of a desk, behind the desk sat a middle-aged woman. Her grey hair was pulled back into a tight bun which stretched her face slightly, giving her a startled look. A pair of reading glasses hung round her neck on a chain. She looked up as Will approached.
"Can I help you, dear."
"Yes, I hope so" will said, taking the broken knife from his bag and arranging the pieces on the desk. The woman looked at them, then up at Will before carefully picking up a piece for closer inspection. "Well" she said, replacing the piece she had picked up. "I'm no expert on knives, I mostly restore furniture" Wills heart sank a little but the woman continued.
"It's been fixed before"
"Most likely" he replied, not wanting to give too much away "It's very old."
"Just how old exactly" she enquired
"Three hundred years, it's a family heir loom." He hoped this would satisfy her.
"Well then, your in luck, I might be able to help you after all" Will felt a little jolt in his chest as his hope rose again, like a lift moving inside him.
"I have a friend" she continued " who specialises in restoring and reproducing metal work of the middle ages onwards, he may be able to help you."
She scribbled an address down and handed it to Will.
"Thank you, thank you so much!" He said ecstatically as he gathered up the shards of the knife.
He left the shop clutching the piece of paper.
Lyra walked through the crowded streets of oxford, keeping her head down. Pan was siting on her shoulder keeping watch. She was heading for the zeppelin ticket office.
It was a fairly small and discreet looking building. As she stepped indoors Lyra got the distinct feeling someone was watching her from the street but when she turned around she saw nothing but the busy street, no faces turned to her.
She walked up to the desk and asked the price of tickets to London. What the man told her was shockingly expensive, she had nowhere near enough money.
"All the prices have gone up Miss." the man told her " you won't find a ticket to anywhere with that money"
Oh no, thought Lyra, this cannot be happening. She had to get out of oxford, she just had to. She began to search her bag frantically for more money, she was sure she had enough this morning. But she found none.
She felt a lump of despair rising in her chest she knelt on the floor still desperately searching her bag as the tears began to roll down her face. I might as well give up now, she thought. Pan was running around the room, jumping to Lyras shoulder and then to the floor, as desperate as she was. So intent on her search, Lyra didn't feel the scarf fall, exposing her injured cheek.
Suddenly there were hands on her shoulders. She looked up to see the ticket man kneeling in front of her.
"Are you alright miss?" he asked, looking into her eyes.
"Yes, of course I am" she said mustering a smile. He could see it was a blatant lie, the trail of her tears still shone on her face.
"I think you better come into the office miss, I'll make you a nice cup of tea."
"No really I'm fine" she insisted "I better be going" in truth she didn't know were to go next. She half stood up when she realised his hand were still on her shoulders.
"You don't look fine" was all he said. She looked at his face full of concern.
"Will you promise not to tell anyone I was here, you promise not to call the police?"
He looked at her tear stained face, her eyes full of desperation.
"Not if you don't want me to" he replied. She nodded and he helped her up ushering her into the office.
Ten minutes later she was siting in the cosy office with a cup of tea in front of her. The man had gone off somewhere, leaving Pan and Lyra alone.
"Do you think I should have said yes, Pan, and married him?"
"No, we'd be better of for a while if you had, but we'd have only run away later on."
"But we might have learned to love him and like he said we could love the travelling and the other things if not him."
" We could never learn to love not after.." Lyra knew instinctively what he meant, not after Will. She sighed, Pan was right; she'd done the only thing she could do. She might have been able to live with Richard but she wouldn't have been able to live with herself for marrying him.
"Besides look what he's done to you, he wasn't exactly a perfect gentleman last night"
"Your right as always" she laughed "you know, for a moment there I thought I'd done the wrong thing but then you reminded me about."
"Hush!" Pan whispered harshly. Lyra could hear voices outside the door.
".And she's got a terrible cut on her cheek, she was a distraught out front, desperate to get away" for a moment Lyra thought her judgement had failed her again and that the ticket man had called the police.
"And the police?" a second, deeper, voice said.
"Didn't want me to call. She'd only go into the office if I promised not to". Lyra started to breathe again; he'd kept his word.
"Do'ya know what?" said the ticket man "I reckon she one of those Gyptians, I've heard their just down the river." Lyras heart nearly stopped when she heard this. She listened more intently. "She's well dressed for a Gyptian but I'll bet they could easily steal clothes."
"Perhaps" said the second, more superior sounding voice.
"I've heard all sort of story's about 'em, if I was her I'd want to run away!"
The door opened startling Lyra. An older man entered the room followed by the ticket man. The older man sat in the chair opposite her.
"That's a nasty cut you've got there young lady" he said smiling at her as if she was crazy, well she had acted strangely before.
"Yeah" she said, dismissive. "Where are the Gyptians." The question seemed to shock the men. "Sorry, It's just I heard you talking about them a second ago and I think they might be able to help me."
"Well their just down the river, at Abingdon." Said the ticket man, sounding puzzled. Lyra looked at pan the same thought passing through their minds. She leapt up, grabbed her bag and ran out of the room.
"Where are you going?" the older man called.
"Home" she replied as she left the building. At last something was going right.
Chapter five.
It was getting dark now and Lyra had been walking all day. Pan was wrapped around her neck to keep her warm and because he shared her sheer exhaustion. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and her feet were covered with blisters, her shoes weren't the practical kind. It couldn't be far to Abingdon now. She just carried on walking; the only thing that kept her going was the thought of safety, food and the warmth of Ma Costa's arms.
Eventually after another hour of stumbling along in the increasing dark Lyra caught her first glimpse of the Gyptians narrow boats. They were nestled in a group just down the canal and she could see the lanterns twinkling in the gloom. She could almost see the warmth inside glowing like the hottest embers of a fire and her heart welled up with so much joy, she really did feel like she was going home.
With all the remaining strength she had Lyra began to run towards the boats. What I sight I must be she thought as she reached the first boat. She climbed aboard, not seeing any other way to knock on the door, and could hear laughter and talking from inside. She knocked and heard a voice cry above the others.
"I'll get it!"
A moment later the door opened and a tall, strong looking figure appeared, a shadow fell across his face obscuring it to Lyras view.
All he could see of this stranger was that it was slight and feminine, not like any of the Gyptian women. His shadow shrouded her face but he could see her pale eyes glinting in the moonlight.
They both felt there was something strangely familiar about the other.
"What do you want?" asked the Gyptian. His voice was not unkind but Lyra felt there was an edge to it.
"I'm looking for Ma Costa" Lyra replied "could you show me to her?"
"She's inside" he said, inclining his head towards the warm room "what do you want from her?"
" Food, a bed, any help she can give"
"What makes you think she'll help you?" the faceless voice asked.
"She always has" was all Lyra could think of to say.
"Who are you?" curiosity had finally overcome the Gyptian. This girl was so familiar yet so strange at the same time. He stepped aside and the light from inside spread over both their faces, as did the same expression of recognition.
The man stood in front of Lyra was so very different from when she had last seen him, he was taller for a start but she could tell it was him.
"Billy?" she whispered " is that really Billy Costa?"
"It can't be" he replied in disbelief and then tentatively added "Lyra?"
"Yes It's me!" she laughed "oh, Billy it been so long since I last saw you. Where were you all these years? I came down to the canal for the horse fair but it wasn't there."
"No they banned it and now their trying to take our fens" he said, Lyra gasped.
"You were lucky to catch us" he added "we were going to leave to a roping about it tomorrow. But that's not important right now, come in and warm up and have something to eat. You must be starving."
He led her into the cramped room. Around a long table sat about ten Gyptians. Most of them Lyra didn't recognise but there was an older looking Tony Costa with grey streaks in his hair. At the head of the table sat Ma Costa. To Lyra she looked no different than she had thirteen years ago.
Ma Costa looked up as the strange woman entered the room and found that she wasn't strange at all. She saw the slight woman with fierce and determined blue eyes. Her golden blond hair was dishevelled from her day's walk and an exhausted pine marten stared at Ma Costa from round the woman's neck.
Without saying a word Ma Costa stood up and walked over. Not for the first time and as if nothing had happened since Lyra last saw her, Ma Costa hugged her with her immense, strong arms. Lyra felt safe again.
In the café where Lyra had eaten breakfast that morning the owner was getting ready to close up. He was wiping the tabletops when he heard the door open behind him. He turned round to face the intruders.
"Can't you read? The café is shu.." He was cut off by a growl from a huge wolf daemon stood just a meter from him.
A young man stood in front of him flanked by the wolf daemons and their equally fierce looking humans. The young mans snake daemon was curled round her humans wrist. His head was heavily bandaged.
"I'm looking for a woman, exceptionally pretty equally stubborn" he laughed warmly, though his face showed signs of other, more volatile emotions. "I thought perhaps you might have seen her?" he continued.
"Well, er, I don't like to pry into other peoples business, so maybe you should try somewhere else" the owner said in a shaken voice.
The wolf daemons growled and showed their yellow drool covered fangs, prowling round the café owner. He quickly changed his mind.
"Let me think" he said, nervously scratching his head. "There was one young lady, sat in the corner. Very quiet, she was, had a stoat daemon or something like that and blue eyes, I remember her eyes" he nodded repeatedly as if to add truth to his story.
"Which way did she go?" asked the young man.
The café owner thought for a moment then pointed to the left. The young man nodded to him and left followed by the soldiers and their wolf daemons, leaving the café owner shaking and bewildered.
____________________________ :p______________________________________
So what did you think? Should I write more or just give up now? (Hehehe, not really I'm gonna keep writing what ever you say!!!!! Mwahhahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!)
Lyra woke up feeling stiff and cold. She moved her arms slowly to get the feeling back. She'd spent the night sleeping sporadically behind a pile of old crates down by the canal, sheltered from the wind and any eyes that might be watching out for her.
Once the cold began to wear off and the golden morning sun invited her to leave her hiding place, she decided to get some breakfast. She picked up the tattered carpetbag that she'd thrown a few things in the night before and set off.
When she had left Richards's house not only had she seen his true character but also his words had been ringing in her head. "I'll stop at nothing." and now she knew he wouldn't. Oxford wasn't safe anymore if she wanted to stay single, or alive so she had decided to lay low until she had a plan. Maybe she could go to Svalbard or to Serafinas witch clan, but then the old problem remained, she was human and always would be.
So the night before she had gone home to get supplies. She'd cleaned and dressed her cheek, painful although not too deep. She'd grabbed some money for food and soap and things. Maybe she could buy zeppelin tickets to London or Bristol.
She had also grabbed some fresh clothes and, of course, the Alethiometer and her study books in which she had the harder of the meanings written down.
And one other thing was in that bag, nestling in one corner, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, a small red flower from the crown of Serafina Pekkala. She had promised Lyra that they would always be sisters and that using the flower, Lyra could call her whenever she needed help. The flower was as fresh as the day she'd been given it, all those years ago. Lyra had thought about calling Serafina the night before but after all what could the witch have done?
The gash on her cheek began to sting painfully again as the streets began to fill with people and market stalls. "Lyra, you better cover your cheek or people will stare." Pan whispered from her shoulder. He was right. She pulled a light, summery silk scarf from her bag and wrapped it round her neck, pulling it up to cover her cheek.
Soon she came across a small quiet looking café. She brought a cup of coffee and a stale looking cake, which was all they had. She sat in the back corner and tried to look as uninteresting as possible, after all that had worked in Bolvangar and it was what Will had done all his life.
"What are we going to do now?" whispered Pan.
" I don't know, I guess we'll have to find some where to stay. We can't go home, that's the first place he'll look"
"You should have listened to me, I knew he wasn't trust worthy."
" I know pan. I'm sorry. I messed up. Now we won't be able to go to Dame Hannah's collage anymore, we've got no home and what will we do when our money runs out? We can't go to the master for more; it's far too dangerous. We'll stave Pan." She rested her head in her hands and felt the hot prick of tears in her eyes. Stop crying, she told herself furiously, you'll be noticed for sure.
She felt the soft warmth off fur wipe her tears away as Pan pressed his head against hers.
"No we won't Lyra, we'll never let that happen." He whispered to her "we'll find somewhere safe to stay. Don't worry. Your not just anyone, your Lyra Silvertongue named by the great king Iorek himself."
The very thought that had made her fight off Richard the night before had no effect on her now.
"I'm not sure anymore pan" she sighed.
"Of course you are," he said affectingly licking her face.
Maybe, she thought, maybe.
Will stood outside a cramped looking shop. The sign outside said, "Antiques - Repaired and sold". Well what Will wanted fixed was definitely an antique so here was as good a place as any to start looking for someone who could fix the knife.
As he went in a little bell rang to announce his entrance. He looked around. Every wall of the shop was covered with old books, bedpans, copper kettles, Victorian dolls and puppets. Rusty buckets and boat ores hung from the ceiling. A winding path led through old dressers and cupboards stopping in front of a desk, behind the desk sat a middle-aged woman. Her grey hair was pulled back into a tight bun which stretched her face slightly, giving her a startled look. A pair of reading glasses hung round her neck on a chain. She looked up as Will approached.
"Can I help you, dear."
"Yes, I hope so" will said, taking the broken knife from his bag and arranging the pieces on the desk. The woman looked at them, then up at Will before carefully picking up a piece for closer inspection. "Well" she said, replacing the piece she had picked up. "I'm no expert on knives, I mostly restore furniture" Wills heart sank a little but the woman continued.
"It's been fixed before"
"Most likely" he replied, not wanting to give too much away "It's very old."
"Just how old exactly" she enquired
"Three hundred years, it's a family heir loom." He hoped this would satisfy her.
"Well then, your in luck, I might be able to help you after all" Will felt a little jolt in his chest as his hope rose again, like a lift moving inside him.
"I have a friend" she continued " who specialises in restoring and reproducing metal work of the middle ages onwards, he may be able to help you."
She scribbled an address down and handed it to Will.
"Thank you, thank you so much!" He said ecstatically as he gathered up the shards of the knife.
He left the shop clutching the piece of paper.
Lyra walked through the crowded streets of oxford, keeping her head down. Pan was siting on her shoulder keeping watch. She was heading for the zeppelin ticket office.
It was a fairly small and discreet looking building. As she stepped indoors Lyra got the distinct feeling someone was watching her from the street but when she turned around she saw nothing but the busy street, no faces turned to her.
She walked up to the desk and asked the price of tickets to London. What the man told her was shockingly expensive, she had nowhere near enough money.
"All the prices have gone up Miss." the man told her " you won't find a ticket to anywhere with that money"
Oh no, thought Lyra, this cannot be happening. She had to get out of oxford, she just had to. She began to search her bag frantically for more money, she was sure she had enough this morning. But she found none.
She felt a lump of despair rising in her chest she knelt on the floor still desperately searching her bag as the tears began to roll down her face. I might as well give up now, she thought. Pan was running around the room, jumping to Lyras shoulder and then to the floor, as desperate as she was. So intent on her search, Lyra didn't feel the scarf fall, exposing her injured cheek.
Suddenly there were hands on her shoulders. She looked up to see the ticket man kneeling in front of her.
"Are you alright miss?" he asked, looking into her eyes.
"Yes, of course I am" she said mustering a smile. He could see it was a blatant lie, the trail of her tears still shone on her face.
"I think you better come into the office miss, I'll make you a nice cup of tea."
"No really I'm fine" she insisted "I better be going" in truth she didn't know were to go next. She half stood up when she realised his hand were still on her shoulders.
"You don't look fine" was all he said. She looked at his face full of concern.
"Will you promise not to tell anyone I was here, you promise not to call the police?"
He looked at her tear stained face, her eyes full of desperation.
"Not if you don't want me to" he replied. She nodded and he helped her up ushering her into the office.
Ten minutes later she was siting in the cosy office with a cup of tea in front of her. The man had gone off somewhere, leaving Pan and Lyra alone.
"Do you think I should have said yes, Pan, and married him?"
"No, we'd be better of for a while if you had, but we'd have only run away later on."
"But we might have learned to love him and like he said we could love the travelling and the other things if not him."
" We could never learn to love not after.." Lyra knew instinctively what he meant, not after Will. She sighed, Pan was right; she'd done the only thing she could do. She might have been able to live with Richard but she wouldn't have been able to live with herself for marrying him.
"Besides look what he's done to you, he wasn't exactly a perfect gentleman last night"
"Your right as always" she laughed "you know, for a moment there I thought I'd done the wrong thing but then you reminded me about."
"Hush!" Pan whispered harshly. Lyra could hear voices outside the door.
".And she's got a terrible cut on her cheek, she was a distraught out front, desperate to get away" for a moment Lyra thought her judgement had failed her again and that the ticket man had called the police.
"And the police?" a second, deeper, voice said.
"Didn't want me to call. She'd only go into the office if I promised not to". Lyra started to breathe again; he'd kept his word.
"Do'ya know what?" said the ticket man "I reckon she one of those Gyptians, I've heard their just down the river." Lyras heart nearly stopped when she heard this. She listened more intently. "She's well dressed for a Gyptian but I'll bet they could easily steal clothes."
"Perhaps" said the second, more superior sounding voice.
"I've heard all sort of story's about 'em, if I was her I'd want to run away!"
The door opened startling Lyra. An older man entered the room followed by the ticket man. The older man sat in the chair opposite her.
"That's a nasty cut you've got there young lady" he said smiling at her as if she was crazy, well she had acted strangely before.
"Yeah" she said, dismissive. "Where are the Gyptians." The question seemed to shock the men. "Sorry, It's just I heard you talking about them a second ago and I think they might be able to help me."
"Well their just down the river, at Abingdon." Said the ticket man, sounding puzzled. Lyra looked at pan the same thought passing through their minds. She leapt up, grabbed her bag and ran out of the room.
"Where are you going?" the older man called.
"Home" she replied as she left the building. At last something was going right.
Chapter five.
It was getting dark now and Lyra had been walking all day. Pan was wrapped around her neck to keep her warm and because he shared her sheer exhaustion. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and her feet were covered with blisters, her shoes weren't the practical kind. It couldn't be far to Abingdon now. She just carried on walking; the only thing that kept her going was the thought of safety, food and the warmth of Ma Costa's arms.
Eventually after another hour of stumbling along in the increasing dark Lyra caught her first glimpse of the Gyptians narrow boats. They were nestled in a group just down the canal and she could see the lanterns twinkling in the gloom. She could almost see the warmth inside glowing like the hottest embers of a fire and her heart welled up with so much joy, she really did feel like she was going home.
With all the remaining strength she had Lyra began to run towards the boats. What I sight I must be she thought as she reached the first boat. She climbed aboard, not seeing any other way to knock on the door, and could hear laughter and talking from inside. She knocked and heard a voice cry above the others.
"I'll get it!"
A moment later the door opened and a tall, strong looking figure appeared, a shadow fell across his face obscuring it to Lyras view.
All he could see of this stranger was that it was slight and feminine, not like any of the Gyptian women. His shadow shrouded her face but he could see her pale eyes glinting in the moonlight.
They both felt there was something strangely familiar about the other.
"What do you want?" asked the Gyptian. His voice was not unkind but Lyra felt there was an edge to it.
"I'm looking for Ma Costa" Lyra replied "could you show me to her?"
"She's inside" he said, inclining his head towards the warm room "what do you want from her?"
" Food, a bed, any help she can give"
"What makes you think she'll help you?" the faceless voice asked.
"She always has" was all Lyra could think of to say.
"Who are you?" curiosity had finally overcome the Gyptian. This girl was so familiar yet so strange at the same time. He stepped aside and the light from inside spread over both their faces, as did the same expression of recognition.
The man stood in front of Lyra was so very different from when she had last seen him, he was taller for a start but she could tell it was him.
"Billy?" she whispered " is that really Billy Costa?"
"It can't be" he replied in disbelief and then tentatively added "Lyra?"
"Yes It's me!" she laughed "oh, Billy it been so long since I last saw you. Where were you all these years? I came down to the canal for the horse fair but it wasn't there."
"No they banned it and now their trying to take our fens" he said, Lyra gasped.
"You were lucky to catch us" he added "we were going to leave to a roping about it tomorrow. But that's not important right now, come in and warm up and have something to eat. You must be starving."
He led her into the cramped room. Around a long table sat about ten Gyptians. Most of them Lyra didn't recognise but there was an older looking Tony Costa with grey streaks in his hair. At the head of the table sat Ma Costa. To Lyra she looked no different than she had thirteen years ago.
Ma Costa looked up as the strange woman entered the room and found that she wasn't strange at all. She saw the slight woman with fierce and determined blue eyes. Her golden blond hair was dishevelled from her day's walk and an exhausted pine marten stared at Ma Costa from round the woman's neck.
Without saying a word Ma Costa stood up and walked over. Not for the first time and as if nothing had happened since Lyra last saw her, Ma Costa hugged her with her immense, strong arms. Lyra felt safe again.
In the café where Lyra had eaten breakfast that morning the owner was getting ready to close up. He was wiping the tabletops when he heard the door open behind him. He turned round to face the intruders.
"Can't you read? The café is shu.." He was cut off by a growl from a huge wolf daemon stood just a meter from him.
A young man stood in front of him flanked by the wolf daemons and their equally fierce looking humans. The young mans snake daemon was curled round her humans wrist. His head was heavily bandaged.
"I'm looking for a woman, exceptionally pretty equally stubborn" he laughed warmly, though his face showed signs of other, more volatile emotions. "I thought perhaps you might have seen her?" he continued.
"Well, er, I don't like to pry into other peoples business, so maybe you should try somewhere else" the owner said in a shaken voice.
The wolf daemons growled and showed their yellow drool covered fangs, prowling round the café owner. He quickly changed his mind.
"Let me think" he said, nervously scratching his head. "There was one young lady, sat in the corner. Very quiet, she was, had a stoat daemon or something like that and blue eyes, I remember her eyes" he nodded repeatedly as if to add truth to his story.
"Which way did she go?" asked the young man.
The café owner thought for a moment then pointed to the left. The young man nodded to him and left followed by the soldiers and their wolf daemons, leaving the café owner shaking and bewildered.
____________________________ :p______________________________________
So what did you think? Should I write more or just give up now? (Hehehe, not really I'm gonna keep writing what ever you say!!!!! Mwahhahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!)