Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials series.

A/N: Hi, everyone! Here is the next part of our story. I hope you all like it, and I hope to update soon :) Thanks for all of the reviews so far, and thank you so much for reading!

18.

Emerging Emotions

"Where exactly are we going?" Squinting slightly, Lyra started to see lights in the distance. They'd been riding for about an hour, and the foliage was starting to thin out around them. Snow-flecked branches and white-encrusted pines filled her range of vision, but it all seemed so familiar. It couldn't be anywhere far, and indeed, Lyra gathered that it was probably in the same territory or region.

Is it far enough to throw off Uncle Asriel, though? Pan was an ermine now, and as he pressed his back paws down on Lyra's thigh and looked around, Lyra could only shrug. She didn't know what to expect from anyone, and it really wasn't her place to say. Everything in her life happened so fast, and as much as a part of her relished the adventure and the uncertainty of it all, she had learned to simply go with the flow and wait it out.

In a lot of ways, Lyra felt that she learning to be cunning, like the serpent on the aleithimoeter. She calculated what happened and waited to see how everyone responded, and that in turn helped her measure her own reactions and positions. She'd always done this to a certain extent, like when she discovered that the scholars at Jordan didn't really care if you listened to their lectures or not, but it was never as important as it was right now. It seemed to be the best thing to do at all times, and it was actually something that really helped her out, which couldn't be said about when she lived at Jordan or with the Gyptians.

With a slight chill, Lyra realized that she had also never been as close to Mrs. Coulter before. Her mother was the pivot of one who was cunning and sly, and whether she realized it or not, Lyra was starting to think like her.

Mrs. Coulter turned to look over at Lyra, shifting to put an arm around her. Lyra felt the woman press her hand down on her shoulder, and she then squeezed it slightly. "We're going home, darling. Everything is going to be alright from now on."

At the word "home," Lyra instantly thought of Jordan College back in Oxford. She thought of her little bedroom right by the rooftops, she thought of her bulletin board with all of the pictures of the North that Lord Asriel had given to her, she thought of her creaky wardrobe with her ugly, uncomfortable dinner clothes tucked behind her patched, loose-fitting play clothes, and she thought of all the servants and the people that really made her feel like she belonged.

But looking up at Mrs. Coulter, who was gazing down at her with a fierce sort of compassion, Lyra realized that Jordan College wasn't the home she was referring to. Indeed, she was most likely referring to London, and as Pan changed into a tabby and moved around in her lap, his whiskers brushing her arm, Lyra didn't know exactly how she should feel.

After dreaming about it for so long, Lyra found herself in love and alive in the regions of the North. After traveling with the Gyptians and Mrs. Coulter for all that time, she's grown used to learning how to survive on nothing more than salty seal meat and sour-tasting water, and she's grown to feel a rush of excitement every time a sledge takes off into the unknown on the tundra.

If she was being completely honest with herself, Lyra didn't want it to end. Looking down at her feet, Lyra felt the rush of her adventure whirl down to a close, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

As Mrs. Coulter pulled on the reigns and slowed down the sledge, taking in her surroundings, she spotted a man waiting for them. He was standing near the edge of the little clearing, and he wore a simply hideous coat made of deer fur along with large, stuffed boots. As the dogs skidded to a halt and the sledge buried its blades into the snow, he approached them, walking with a gait.

A pure barbarian. The golden monkey wrinkled his nose. They're all so savage and disgusting.

"Dawson?" Mrs. Coulter called, standing up and smoothing down her furs and her dress. She motioned for Lyra to stay put as she carefully climbed out of the sled, and as the golden monkey jumped to her shoulder and buried his muzzle into her hair, Mrs. Coulter couldn't help but feel uneasy.

In all sincerity, she had no idea what she was doing. Not the slightest clue. The only thing she was certain of was that she needed to get away from Asriel, and even that wasn't something she could completely guarantee. Mrs. Coulter's eyes flickered to the knife held in the ugly man's strapped pouch, and as she met him in the middle of the clearing, smiling softly, she hoped that she wouldn't have to do anything rash.

"Yes," said the man, ignoring her smile and narrowing his eyes. "You have my sled. You must have met Gilson back in North Gorvsy?"

"I did," said Mrs. Coulter, wondering why he still seemed so suspicious. These people really were idiotic. She cleared her face to be pleasant and shy, and she allowed herself to play with her hands slightly, her smile lingering. "My daughter and I came across some trouble and needed a ride. I appreciate your sled, and I hope we weren't too much of a burden. You saved us quite a deal of time."

Dawson snorted and then turned to attend to the dogs, who barked happily at his arrival. "You okay on your own from here? Town is just a short walk west."

"Yes. Thank you very much."

"You gave Gilson two hundred dollars?"

"I actually gave him three." A look of disgust crossed Dawson's face, and he let out a string of profanity as he untied his dogs and undid the harness. It was just like scum to cheat each other of money, and the prospect made Mrs. Coulter fight back a laugh. She could never understand the world's obsession with money, and though it was probably because she had an abundance of it, Mrs. Coulter still found the motivation to be revolting. Societies crumbled over the plight of money, and individuals were even easier to succumb.

Going back to Lyra, Mrs. Coulter helped the girl down and then grabbed their bags. She turned away from the sledge and the wildman and took her daughter's hand, not bothering to look behind her.

As they started moving, Lyra looked up, and for a moment, Mrs. Coulter found herself lost in her daughter's eyes. Lyra had the most innocently strong expression that Mrs. Coulter had ever seen on a child. She'd dealt with a plethora of snide, ungrateful London children and poor, hopeless Gyptian refuges, but Lyra was so stunningly different. Her blue eyes were clear and sharp, and she had an air of confidence and comfort. Pan was currently in the form of a golden owl, his large feathers tucked away neatly, and even the golden monkey snorted at the other daemon's keen, soft dominance.

Walking toward Trollesund, Mrs. Coulter didn't know what to expect. They passed by a few tradesmen who were clustered near trees while they conferred over their business deals, and she simply pulled Lyra closer to her as they entered the outskirts of town. Mrs. Coulter hadn't been there in a few weeks, but it was the same as always: busy and bustling, though nothing particularly special. Sailors and traders alike moved through the streets, and as Mrs. Coulter quickened her pace, she took a sharp right and headed toward the center of town. The golden monkey flicked his tail against her neck, and Mrs. Coulter nodded, feeling her heart begin to race.

"Where are we going?" Mrs. Coulter and Lyra weren't holding hands anymore, and as they went deeper into the heart of the town, the face of a tall, grand building could be seen. It was crafted with sleek, shiny metal, and a pair of tall, armed guards stood outside. Lyra stopped straight in her tracks, and as Mrs. Coulter turned around, her daughter looked directly into her eyes. "The Magisterium?"

Mrs. Coulter's heart ached as she watched the look of complete, utter betrayal flick through Lyra's eyes. Pan changed into a polecat, hissing at Lyra's ankles, and the girl's face gaped at Mrs. Coulter as she continued to stare ahead of them at the Magisteral office, her eyes now growing round and panicked.

"Lyra, darling, there's nothing to worry about." As Mrs. Coulter took a step forward, holding open her arms, Lyra took a step backwards, a strange gleam in her eye. The golden monkey hissed, and Mrs. Coulter stopped, feeling the pressure in her temples start to rise.

"You tricked me," said Lyra, her voice low and her face pale as she looked up at Mrs. Coulter. "I thought you was trying to help me."

"I am, dear," Mrs. Coulter insisted, again taking a step forward. Lyra retaliated with another step away from her, and as the golden monkey began to fidget, Mrs. Coulter found herself growing more and more impatient.

Lyra just didn't understand. She really didn't. Mrs. Coulter had no choice. Where else was she supposed to go when she abandoned the fiasco at Bolvangar? They knew Asriel was at large, to be sure, but how was she supposed to weasel out of this without reporting back to them? How could she possibly get out of this mess?

Indeed Lyra didn't understand. Standing there, her face growing flushed and heated with every second that went by, Lyra started to walk backwards. In an instant Mrs. Coulter knew what she was about to do, and before she could do anything, Lyra turned tail and ran back the way they had come.

After everything she'd done to take care of Lyra and keep her away from danger, this was Mrs. Coulter's reward. After all those nights of rocking and singing to her, feeding and washing her, and loving and protecting her, Lyra fled at the first sign of danger without even giving Mrs. Coulter a chance. After everything they'd been through and everything they'd done, it was as if nothing had changed.

The golden monkey sprang from Mrs. Coulter's shoulders, and in a flash of gold, he raced after them. He leapt on Pan and pinned him to the ground, shoving his brown muzzle into the dirt, and Mrs. Coulter proceeded to move over to Lyra, who was frozen with shock and pain as Pan lay trapped on the floor.

Even though she truly did love Lyra, Mrs. Coulter couldn't help the sensation of wrath and frustration that surged through her body. As Lyra begged for Mrs. Coulter to let Pan go and to free them, to make it all stop, Mrs. Coulter threw back her hand and then swung it forward, slapping Lyra hard on the right cheek. A few people stopped nearby, their eyes glued to the scene, and as Lyra started to cry and as Mrs. Coulter took her by the shoulder and dragged her toward the Magisterium building, she honestly didn't care.

Mrs. Coulter knew what she had to do, and she was tired of playing games. She'd pampered Lyra and had given her everything she ever wanted, but at the end of the day, it apparently wasn't enough for the child.

Walking briskly toward the Magisterial building, where the guards suddenly ran forward and came to her aid, taking Lyra from her, a single tear fell from Mrs. Coulter's cheek. Maybe she just wasn't enough.