The rain was pouring down outside Lyra's window as her carriage trundled through the mud and through the gates of St Sophia's. It was a large school, more like a Hamlet than a house, with old rambling buildings that invited secret passage ways and hidden paths among its shadows, begging to be explored.
The windows however burnt bright and welcoming through the rain, and Lyra pressed her face eagerly against the glass to see it better. Pantalaimon, her daemon, sat curled in her lap, complaing bitterly about the cold.
"I hope the weather's not always like this."
"Don't be so silly Pan, its England, of course its always like this." said Lyra sitting back, "Anyway, the arctic was a lot colder than this, and you survived that fine."
"Yes, but when I was in the arctic I could change in to something with a thicker coat. Pine Martens weren't made for these kind of temperatures"
"Sure they are, you get Pine Martins in England.'
"Hmf," said Pan sulkily, "I still preferred the Mulefa world."
"I wish we could have stayed there too Pan." she said as her eyes glazed over, she watched with out seeing, Pantalaimon in her arms, as the coach drew up among the others near the front door.
"Miss Belaque, we have arrived," said the coachman opening the door for her and holding out an umbrella.
A year ago this would have annoyed Lyra intensely, as she could never stand these tedious formalities and would have enjoyed the rain. But the past year's experiences had matured her and instead she stepped down graciously and followed her coachman, dutifully staying beneath the provided canopy.
However she could not resist taking the muddiest route possible, while Pan, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be cold, splashed through puddles at her heels.
"Lyra, Welcome to St Sophia's!" greeted the headmistress warmly from the doorstep, where she had been waiting to greet her and the other girls individually to the school.
Lyra had met her before, when she had come to the school in the summer, and they had got on extremely well. She had reminded Lyra of Mary Malone, kindly, enthusiastic and imaginative. Her daemon was a Green winged Macaw and greeted Pantalaimon amiably despite the thick coat of mud, and Lyra felt instant admiration.
"I am so delighted you decided to come," she said and shook her hand vigorously. "I hope you'll enjoy your time with us, I am sure we will. But I won't keep you out in the cold; go on in, everyone's meeting in the hall for refreshments and I believe cook has excelled herself this evening…Emily, nice to see you back again, how was France?"
Lyra continued into the hall, where the cook had indeed excelled herself in snacks and side dishes making the tables groan beneath their weight, and Lyra, starved after her long journey, fell upon the food without too much regard for manners.
Tearing the meat of a chicken wing, she was regarding the masses around her with a great deal of interest, but with out enough confidence to approach anyone when she heard a high pitched voice from behind her.
"Oh my Goodness, what an animal!'
A girl with a small pinched nose and goggling eyes, and neck far to long for her head was staring down at her, an expression of disgust on her face that did not improve her unfortunate features. Her daemon was a goldfish, swimming relentlessly in circles in the bowl in her hands.
Lyra regarded her for a minute, and turned her back. She had faced Death itself, this stupid snob with a fish, was not worth a retort, despite the several that came to mind.
Obviously thrown by her lack of reaction the girl tried another tactic and plastering what she suppose to be a friendly smile on her face she said.
"Excuse me, I should have introduced myself first." and she pulled what she sadly thought as her trump card. "I'm Lady Edwina Scott of Etchingham. And you are?"
After a short moments consideration she replied sarcastically, "Her Royal Highness Queen Lyra of Jordan." in her best cockney.
Pan, who had been following the hypnotic movements of the fish daemon with his head, looked up at her as if to say this was a bad idea, but Lyra ignored him.
"Oh, a street rat as well as an animal, I'm not sure which is worse!"
"Lyra, let's not make enemy's right away." Pan whispered in her ear.
"She started it Pan." she whispered back, out loud she said, "Better a street rat than stuck up, stupid ponce with a goldfish for a daemon."
"Oooh, someone's a bit touchy!"
But before the Lyra could reply, a small missile of the cook's finest mashed potato flew out from across the table and landed in the fish bowl. With a shriek Lady Edwina tried to scoop it out, but that only caused it to dissolve faster, and she ran, barging her way through the crowds, to the bathroom.
Lyra turned to see who had thrown it. Three girls were standing on the other side of the table, mischievous expressions on their faces. The one nearest her, still brandishing the offending spoon and grinning profusely held out her hand, her robin daemon fluttering to her wrist.
"Hello" hello she said, "I'm Matilda. Sorry about her, she's a dreadful snob, we're not all like that I promise." she turned to the other two and continued animatedly "This is Grace and Khalifa," indicating the girl to her left and her Gazelle daemon "And…"
"Morgan, hello! This is Bealzub." said Morgan, still watching Lady Edwina's retreating back with evident glee. Her enormous daemon panther raised its head at its name and purred at Pantalaimon.
"I'm Lyra and this is Pan, Pantalaimon Nice shot." she said grinning back and shaking their offered hands.
"I've had a lot of practise," replied Matilda with a shrug," We've discovered chocolate cake makes it go wild, but that's right the other end of the room."
"It! You don't know what sex it is?"
"You can't really tell with goldfish." replied Matilda honestly.
They made an odd three as they battered Lyra with questions about her life. Grace was tall and elegant, with perfect brown hair that never once fell out of place. Morgan, on the other hand, had dark hair and was considerably shorter, though just as neat, and Lyra noticed that not a single speck of mud could be seen anywhere on either person. Though Grace was definitely more serene than Morgan, neither was reserved in their greetings, and they both enthusiastically encouraged her to come and meet the rest of their gang.
But it was Matilda who took her arm and insistently led her across the room, talking excitedly about all the things that there were to do at St Sophia's. She herself was short and sturdy, with a pretty face and large, honest eyes, she was instinctively kind and though Lyra felt slightly lost in the vivacious and confident chatter of the gang of girls, Matilda made sure she was never left out.
Later that night, as Lyra lay with Pantalaimon in her dormitory bed, she said.
"You know what Pan?"
"What?" he asked sleepily.
"I think I'm going to like St Sophia's."