Serafina Pekkala, queen of the Lake Enara clan, listened to her sister witch's story while standing in the ruins of the stronghold as other members of her clan busily set about quenching the last of the flames. Anna Koskinen, the one who had first observed the smoke and reported it back to the clan, retold all she had observed, her eyes alight with interest and curiosity.
"An armored bear, and a man and his little girl, have you ever known such a thing?"
"A rare friendship," Serafina Pekkala agreed. It was not that there had not been good relations between armored bears and humans before, though perhaps Anna Koskinen would not know of any as she was young (for a witch) and tensions in recent years between bears and humans had grown; humans were responsible for the shrinking ice and bears, in turn, more inclined to encroach into human settlements. True friendship, and not simple alliance or trading partnerships, was rarer still; but not unheard of. Serafina Pekkala personally knew a bear and a man who had one of the strongest bonds she had seen.
"I knew a man and a bear who travelled together for a time," she said, her expression thoughtful as she surveyed the would-be bear trap, the shackles, and the blood on the stone. Under her bare feet the stones remembered violence, clung to vivid emotions left for those who could read them like splashes of blood. There was fear, anger, pain, horror…love. An unlikely emotion in a battle but also not unheard of. Comrade in arms was a strong bond, but this was different, more like…family.
Still tasting the traces of what came before (and there was something ugly amidst the other emotions, not hatred, something else, glee maybe, but glee for another's suffering), she thoughtfully added, "but the man I knew had no daughter, nor any interest in women as might create one. Still…I will follow them and find what there is to know."
"I am willing to join you," Anna Koskinen said, and Serafina Pekkala had no reason to curb the other witch's curiosity, so the two went together. They had little trouble following the tracks despite the pains Iorek had taken, even through the water, for it was not the prints or their scent that they tracked but their very essence, and that was not a thing easily masked.
When they drew close, both women paused.
"An armored bear is nothing to laugh at," the witch queen whispered, even as she directed the air around them to carry the sound away from the camp, along with their own scent. "If he proves not to be a friend and desires to attack us, he could do us great harm."
Anna Koskinen drew an arrow at those words, holding it at ready, but Serafina Pekkala shook her head.
"We have no reason to think he would see us as his enemy, but they did just survive an attack. Caution is best. I will hide my presence as completely as I can, and enter their camp to find out what I can. You must stay back in case of the unexpected and come to my aid if I call for you."
A different sort of people might have objected to their queen placing herself in a dangerous position. Witches did not see this action as a danger, however; Anna Koskinen trusted the other witch to know her own abilities, and even if it were dangerous, she trusted her queen to handle it. If she protested at all, it was the delaying in answering her own curiosity, and that protest was only through a look of disappointment as she nodded her agreement.
Serafina Pekkala took the time to turn herself invisible, or as invisible as it is possible for anyone to be. A better word would be unnoticeable, which was even more useful than invisible when approaching a camp that included a bear, who had a wonderful sense of smell, and whose ears were rather keen as well.
The witch approached slowly and as silently as possible anyway, perhaps even with a bit of reluctance. Not because she might be approaching foes…but because she might be approaching friends and perhaps feared what she would find.
Then she was in the camp, a clever camp that she never would have noticed or found out if she weren't a witch and in tune with the forest and tracking their essence besides.
She was not surprised when she found she did know both the man and the bear. She was not surprised, but nor was she glad to encounter old friends.
Serafina Pekkala was three hundred years old, or thereabouts, and she had known many whose lifetime spanned only a fraction of hers; all witches had learned to accept the gift of time spent with those much shorter lived, to rejoice in what time they had, short or long, and accept those moments as moments, and that they would always end. That did not mean that Serafina Pekkala wanted to bear witness to the death of one such friend, particularly if that death came long before old age could claim him.
If Iorek smelled Lee Scoresby as a wounded animal, then Serafina Pekkala saw him as a fading essence.
Then the man turned his fevered eyes and looked directly at her. It should not have been possible; she had made herself utterly unnoticeable and she could feel her power working still. The girl at his side turned to look and it was clear she noticed nothing, her eyes briefly focusing on the witch before unfocusing again and sliding away. The girl was a surprise, even knowing all along there was a girl, when did Lee Scoresby acquire her? She did not have the man's features, but her care for him was unmistakable, and his for her.
"Serafina Pekkala," Lee Scoresby managed to say, or some approximation, his voice was rough and slurred, his lip swollen and split. The fact that he noticed her there, saw her, was not a good sign for his health. It was likely he was already slipping towards death, an in between stage, allowing him to draw his eyes to what his brain should have been telling him to ignore.
Serafina Pekkala loved him. Not as a lover (they never had been lovers), nor as a sister, nor even as a friend. She loved him in the way she loved the elk that ran in the forest, or the hawk as it flew in the air, or the star as it danced its light over her skin. She loved in the way of a witch, which is fiercely and completely, even knowing her heart would all too soon be broken, because love was worth the break.
She expected to find Lee Scoresby and Iorek Byrinson from the very first moment she heard there was a man and a bear together, and she knew coming in that Lee Scoresby had been injured, but it was still horrible to find all her expectations confirmed.
And when Lee Scoresby looked directly at her, his gaze pierced, and when he spoke her name, she felt the words as if he had dropped them like pebbles into her hand.
Then the girl turned her head again and startled, and on the other side Iorek Byrinson whipped his head towards her as well, making a noise that under most any other circumstance might have made her laugh, because it was a growl, but higher pitched than she had ever heard a bear make, and it was clear she had startled him.
It was also clear that, in her own startlement, she had lost her concentration and allowed her invisibility to slip away. She saw no point in calling it back now. It had done its task, allowing her to find out if the members of the camp were strangers or friends, and she already understood it to be the latter.
The girl was, quite naturally, afraid, first shrinking away and clutching her daemon to her heart in the form of a mouse, then abruptly girl and daemon shifted forward. They were putting themselves between the witch and Lee Scoresby. The bear, on the other hand, had recovered even more quickly and it was clear he did not see her as a foe, despite her sudden appearance. There would be no fight here.
"Serafina Pekkala," said the bear, his tone part annoyed (she had intruded in his camp and bears could be territorial) but also part relieved. "Will you help Lee Scoresby?" He clearly had no questions about her ability to help but nor did he presume she must. There was a reason Serafina Pekkala liked him.
"And Hester," Lee Scoresby added.
"I'll heal fine, Lee," came Hester's voice from beneath the blanket. "You're the one who just upchucked his broth."
Lee Scoresby wrinkled his nose at that.
"Who is she? Where's her daemon?" the girl asked, towards Iorek. Then, towards the witch, "I'll shoot you if you try to hurt us."
She had the pistol to do it too, not aimed, yet, (Lee Scoresby had taught her well, never aim at something you don't mean to shoot for sure) but at the ready to swing up. Different people than those present would likely have reacted with horror or condensation or some mixture of the two; a child holding a gun on an adult. Iorek looked on her with approval and Lee Scoresby actually laughed out loud, albeit weakly, saying something so hoarse and soft it was near impossible to make out, but might have been, 'that's my girl'. It was up to the bear to actually calm the child.
"This is Serafina Pekkala, queen of the witches," Iorek said. "She is no friend of those men in the stronghold. You may lay down the pistol. Serafina Pekkala, this is Lyra Silvertongue. It is her who made it possible for me to fight Iofur and win back my place among my people."
Still looking confused, perhaps not expecting the reactions she had gotten, the child did slowly lower the pistol to the ground.
"Queen of the witches?" she asked, her eyes wide with awe and interest.
Serafina Pekkala smiled, and said, "At least over one clan. It is nice to meet you, Lyra Silvertongue. I see you are a formidable defender of your family. There is much of your father in you."
The girl hesitated, then said, "You know Lord Asriel?"
"Lord Asriel? No. I have a sister who is acquainted, but I do not know him."
"Then how do you know I'm like him?" asked Lyra.
"I speak of Lee Scoresby," answered Serafina Pekkala.
"Now, Serafina…" Lee said, clearly ready to be argumentative, never mind that he was as weak as a newborn kitten and Serafina Pekkala had eyes to see with. At any rate, he did not get much further, because the child, with true happiness in her voice, spoke again.
"You think I'm like Mr. Scoresby?"
"I do," answered Serafina Pekkala, then, "Allow me to look at Lee Scoresby, and I will see what I can do for him."
The child looked surprised at that too, perhaps not expecting to be taken so seriously as Lee Scoresby's guardian, but the child did step aside at last.
"Iorek knows you, and Mr. Scoresby knows you, so I suppose you must be good. And you are a witch," this was said with some awe and curiosity, "So I guess you can help."
The witch smiled at the child, then moved forward to do as promised.
"Serafina Pekkala," said Lee Scoresby when she knelt at his side. "A strange way to meet again."
"You left a fire burning in my forest," the witch answered, tone scolding but expression kind. "Of course I came."
Lee laughed again, which turned into a sort of weak cough, and the witch could almost see what little strength he had draining away. She held her smile, because to do otherwise in the presence of the dying was unthinkable, and she started her true assessment. She pulled away the blanket to see, ran her hands above his body, concentrating on what she could feel. Her hand brushed near Hester, who was huddled at the man's side, not on him (because there was not a place she could lie that would not have hurt the man), but close. The hare shied away when the witch's hand neared and Serafina Pekkala paused, because she had no intention on touching the man's daemon and it was telling that the hare thought she might, and sought to evade the touch. She remembered those ugly emotions splashed back over the stones at the stronghold and she wondered but did not ask. Instead, she continued her assessment, more slowly, careful she came nowhere close to Hester.
The girl knelt at Lee Scoresby's head, whispering reassurances, watching the witch's movements closely, her daemon a bird that flitted with anxious energy. She could feel Iorek watching as well, and beyond them her sister witch, still waiting. A less self-possessed person might have felt self-conscious with all that attention, but witches are used to receiving attention, good and bad, when among non-witches and she did not mind. What she did mind was the one set of eyes that were not watching her. Lee Scoresby had closed his eyes and was fast losing awareness.
Then Serafina Pekkala was finished in assessing but she did not like the answer she must share.
"Lee Scoresby is fading," she said. "Without help, he will die."
"No!" cried the child's voice.
"And what help does Lee Scoresby need?" asked Iorek, his voice calm but his spirit clearly agitated to those who could see.
"I will gather my sisters and prepare a spell that will help him heal," said Serafina Pekkala, "But such spells take time, and time Lee Scoresby does not have. He is weakened by infection and fever; that is bad. He also has a wound inside that could not be reached by the bloodmoss; it bleeds and weakens him further. That is worse. He might survive the fever with help, but he will not survive the bleed past another hour."
"I feared this," said Iorek.
"But, but, there must be something you can do to help!" the child cried, tears running down her face, her daemon swiftly changing to something soft and furry that she held in her hands against her heart. "You can't just let Mr. Scoresby die!"
"And we will not," Serafina Pekkala answered. "I know where the bleed is exactly." And she looked at the bear when she said that. He nodded in understanding.
"I will need to create a fire to heat the knife on," he said. "And I will need a forges flame to aid in stopping the bleed. But I do not believe we have the time to build such a fire."
"The fire at the stronghold still burns, despite my sisters' efforts," answered the witch. She feared Iorek would say that was too far, because she did not think Lee Scoresby would survive being moved closer, but the bear only nodded again, then turned to face the child.
"Lyra Silvertongue," he said, "I will go now and I will return and I will do what I can for Lee Scoresby. You must be brave and you must stay by his side, so if he does slip away from us, he will not die alone."
"I won't let him slip away from us," Lyra said, voice firm through her tears, as if she had the power to command such things.
"Hold," said Serafina Pekkala when Iorek turned to run at once, having taken a small metal box from within the camp and secured it to his own armor. "My sisters won't know you yet."
And she went out of the camp and called, "Anna Koskinen!" because it would be rude to call her into another's camp, particularly now that she was sure they were friends.
The witch flew down at once, arrow still held notched but not drawn.
"These people are friends to us," Serafina Pekkala declared, almost like stating the word of a ritual, which, in a way, it was; the witch knew that Anna Koskinen had likely been listening in on everything that had come to pass with great curiosity and so already knew all, but now it was her queen declaring people her friend, and so officially marking them as a Friend to all in her clan.
"I hear, sister, and I will guide the bear to the fire and gather our sisters to prepare the spell," Anna Koskinen answered, with perhaps a bit too much haste (she hadn't waited to hear those instructions be given formally, after all) but she was young and this was a situation that called for haste so Serafina Pekkala did not rebuke her, but embraced her and said, "Then go!"
Then the witch queen returned into the hidden camp, alone with the two humans and their daemons.
"You can really help him, can't you?" asked the girl the moment she reappeared. The child had returned to bathing the man's brow with a damp cloth, still crying, but silently.
"Lyra," the witch heard the girl's daemon whisper, "Don't question her."
"I can't help it, Pan," the girl whispered back.
The witch kindly pretended not to hear their private conversation and answered the question that had been directed towards her. "It is as I said. He is fading. We will do all we can to help him, but there are some things beyond our power."
Witches do not lie to children, not even to comfort them. At any rate, the girl wiped away her tears instead of breaking down further, and said, "I'm glad you say so. Because if you promised he would be alright then I would know you were a liar and I'd never trust you near him."
Lyra had to keep wiping away the tears, because they wouldn't stop, but the child seemed determined to work around them in order to help Lee Scoresby as best she could. Serafina Pekkala allowed her her tears, understanding that comfort would not be welcome, that what she could do most to help was to do her best with the man the girl cried over.
"Lee Scoresby," said the witch, feeling his dwindling energy, and pushing, willing to share some of herself if it would hold the man to the world a while longer. "You are young yet, and you have a child; you need to stay."
Iorek returned swiftly, even more swiftly than Serafina Pekkala expected; armored bears can be fast when motivated, and it seemed he had found fire hot enough without needing to tend to long to the blaze. He returned almost as quickly as he left, but not quite, because in his paw he carried a knife. It was almost humorous how delicately he held what was a surprisingly tiny blade in his great paw, cautious that the blade touched nothing.
"It is ready," he said, "or as ready as it can be, considering the length from the fire I had to carry everything, but building one here would be slower still. Haste is needed. Show me where to cut."
"Where to cut?!" the girl asked in great alarm, staring at the knife. She had not understood before that moment what they needed to do in order to fix a bleed happening inside the man. There was no time for explaining, either; the bleed was the greatest current danger to the man and it needed fixing now.
"But," said Lyra, protesting, face white and aghast.
"It's fine, Lyra," said an unexpected voice. Hester crept up Lee's side until she was by his shoulder, close to the girl, close enough she could have touched her, but of course she would not.
"My sisters will keep him asleep and still," Serafina Pekkala said; "He must not move."
"Where do I cut?" Iorek repeated patiently, holding the knife at ready. It was not hot; whatever had been done with the fire had mostly cooled by then, but for all its delicateness it looked razor sharp and delicately curved. In fact, the blade was roughly the size and shape of one of Iorek's claws, but metal, and with a much finer edge. This was done very deliberately, for if there was a blade a bear understood the use of better than anything, it was his own claws. In fact, Lee Scoresby could not have asked for a better surgeon to attend him; the bear understood anatomy with the perfection of a true predator, even if humans were not his prey of choice, and despite his enormous size he had an incredibly delicate touch. This was what allowed for the fine intricacy in his armor and it was what would now save Lee Scoresby's life.
"Sisters, help me!" Serafina Pekkala called, and more witches appeared almost like magic (and they were witches, but in this case they simply moved with silence, swiftness, and grace), and they joined hands, and those closest put their hands over Lee Scoresby, but whatever they were doing was not evident because the man already lay still and pale.
"Sleep now, Hester," Serafina Pekkala ordered, and the hare did, which showed she did still trust the witch or she would have fought against it and she did not. "Now, child, do not interfere, but you may stay and watch if you will."
Lyra nodded, eyes wide, too shocked to even cry anymore, holding her daemon close.
Then Serafina Pekkala ran her hands around where she knew to be the wound, found it, slowly bleeding, an ugly bleed that drained strength over a long time while hiding its nature beneath the skin.
"Cut…here," said the witch.
And Iorek did.
Author's Note: The Lee Scoresby in my head is a weird hybrid of the TV series and the books; The Lee Scoresby of the book was old, perhaps not an old man but not a young one. Lin-Manuel Miranda is younger. Likely aided by being an actual visual, I tend to picture the actor when I picture the man, but with the more honorable characteristics of the book character. That said, those reading this story are free to picture Lee Scoresby at any age, with any look you wish. So when Serafina Pekkala calls him 'young yet'…that could be because she is a three hundred year old witch and sees everyone as 'young', it could be because Lee Scoresby is too young to die because he had yet to fall into the decline of old age despite having lived many years, or it could be that he is still a young(ish) man by anyone's standards. I leave it up to you to decide how you want to imagine him.