Lyra doesn't know how long she sits there, knees drawn up to her chest, side of her cheek pressed against the grainy wood, eyes taking on the sort of glazed-over look of someone lost in thought. Pan is stretched flat on his back, little paws splayed out in all directions, beady eyes half-closed, nose twitching. The sun is beginning to sink below the horizon, a warm, orange-red glow beginning to fill the sky, turning the clouds a hazy pink, but Lyra doesn't seem to notice. She contemplates staying here all night, in a sort of silent vigil, an apology to Will and herself for not beginning her search sooner.
She feared no danger, even out in the open.
But Pan comes to his senses, rolling over onto his belly and climbing up her bare leg, little claws gently scratching at her skin as he gazes up at her imploringly. "We should head back, Lyra." He tells her, nudging her knee with his nose. Lyra blinks, tucking a strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear, seeming to have been drawn out of some deep spell. "Yeah. Yeah we should." She agrees, and Pan scurries up her body to sit on her shoulder, wrapping himself around her neck and peeking out from the curtain of her hair, as he had so often done when he'd been able to turn into a mouse.
With stiff movements from sitting so long, Lyra gets off the bench, stretching and yawning, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle the sound. "I think, Pan, that we should contact Serafina. She might be able to help us, maybe point us in the right direction. She's got to know something about travelling between worlds, being a witch and all. And maybe, right, she didn't tell us everything she knew because it wasn't time for us to travel, to find Will and Kirjava. But she's got to tell us now, or at least help us. Yeah." She seems to reassure herself as she walks along, not seeming to realize or care that her feet were not bringing her home, but instead into the town itself.
She walks aimlessly through the familiar cobblestone streets, largely quiet except for the occasional street urchin darting past, dirty and barefoot and looking like they were having the time of their young life. Oh how she missed for those simple days of running amok with her band of ragamuffins, Roger at her side, Pan changing from shape to shape more rapidly than the eye could follow. "Pan, what d'you think would've happened if Roger never got snatched? D'you think we still woulda done everything we did? Would Roger have maybe died another way?" She muses, stopping beside one of the shop stands, remembering how she used to steal pies and contemplated stealing a horse- but only for a bit, of course, just enough time to do a few laps around the town before returning it, never wanting the label of horse thief.
Pan doesn't answer her, suddenly going stiff on her shoulder, little claws digging into the fabric of her shirt. She's confused for a moment, but then she sees it, or maybe feels it, because her eyes don't seem to register an image exactly, only a sense that something should be there, and that strange sense draws her eyes to a shadowy corner, where nothing looks out of the ordinary.
"Pan, what is, what is…" She searches for the right words, but nothing comes to her, and she ends up waving a hand vaguely in that direction. "I don't know." He answers tersely, nose twitching as though he were trying to smell something out of the ordinary. Just then, a dirty street boy comes darting by, and Lyra reaches out, quick as a flash, to grab him by the arm. He protests, squirming and practically growling, until Lyra loosens her grip enough for him to snatch his arm back, glaring at her accusingly.
"Listen, d'you see anything strange over there? Anything?" She points to the corner, bending down to look the kid right in the eyes, biting her lip a little. Reflexively the boy turns to look in the direction she points, cocking his head slightly to the side. He shrugs his bony shoulders and meets her gaze almost defiantly. "No. I dunno. Maybe." He looks her up and down, taking note of her nice clothes, squinting at her. "Here." Lyra knows these types too well- it wasn't that long ago that she was one of them" and fishes around in the pouch of the belt she wore, pulling out a coin and pressing it into his dirty palm. The boy peers at it carefully before curling a fist around in and rocking back on his heels, seeming to think hard. "I don't don't know how to 'splain it right, but my daemon, Flit, says she feels like she's seein' somethin'. Like there's somethin' there, or not there, I dunno, she can describe it better. You tell 'em Flit." A little mouse crawls out of his shirt then, turning into a large wolfhound nearly as tall as the boy himself, as if to intimidate these strangers. "It feels like my eyes are drawn there, all the time. Like there's something I should see, but I dunno, I don't. It makes me tremble, and the animals here avoid it. Though I dunno if the adults notice it, you're the only one I've heard mention it." And then with that, the pair dart off, Flit turning into a bird to guide her boy down a maze of alleyways, the near-darkness swallowing them up.
"Lyra, let's go back." Pan says quickly, tugging on her hair as Lyra takes a step towards the space, then another. "Please, Lyra, let's go back. We need the alethiometer! We can ask it what this is." And it is these words that stop Lyra in her tracks. "You're right. But Pan, why can I sense it like the kids and daemons do? And why only just now? It en't the first time we've been here." A hitch of nervousness enters her voice, but there is a hardness in her gaze that says she's already begun to steel herself for another adventure, and a shiver of excitement courses through her.