for Lyra

[knifebearer]

Will was making sure he kept a low profile. It wasn't that hard; he'd done it all his life, and it was as natural to him as breathing. He tried to stay out of the compound as much as possible, because there were a lot of adults there (especially in the room marked Island Police Department) and in his experience adults usually asked a lot of

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[alethioliar]

As a rule, Lyra wasn't very fond of the compound either, but it did have its uses. The Island Police Department, for instance, was exceptionally easy to break into. She hadn't even needed her trusty wrench the night before, and she'd come away with such hope, such encouragement when for weeks she'd had nothing but sheer force of will and determination.

Mark Ransom.

It was a name she'd longed to see on the IPD's list of island inhabitants, a name she'd prayed for in that haphazard, clumsily selfish way that suggested her prayers were often few and far between. Mark Ransom; a common name, no doubt, but one she meant to investigate anyway because it didn't matter if the name meant false hope. It was still hopeWearing her summer uniform from St. Sophia's, Lyra idled towards the kitchen and with each step, peculiarly enough, Pan became even more restless in her arms. Eventually, and much to her surprise, he leapt from her breast and scampered ahead through the doorway, leaving her to adjust the strap of her canvas bag in fairly

[knifebearer]

Kirjava, who had been nibbling at a bit of Will's omelette, pricked up her ears, sniffed at the air, and bounded off the countertop in a sleek black flash. "What's got into you?" muttered Will, sliding down off the stool with his cup of coffee to follow the cat out into the corridor.

He found her curled up with a pine marten in the middle of the corridor, purring loudly and petting his fur, licking his bright-eyed little face and making contented sounds. There was only one explanation for that, and it made Will's heart leap in his chest so suddenly he thought it might stop. "Pan?" he croaked, his voice cracking in that annoying way it so often did lately. "Pan?" And then a heartbeat later, the idea of it almost too big to speak of - "Lyra?"

He almost didn't dare to look and see if she was there.

[alethioliar]

But she was there, wide-eyed and struck speechless, the strap of her canvas bag fairly slipping off her sagging shoulder, and she honestly did not know, could not know, if all the love and warm flaring up in her heart was Pan's or her own.

"Will -" she uttered, the single name little more than a toneless gasp, a disbelieving whisper as Lyra stared for one long, dizzy moment and then reached up to rub her eyes with the heels of her palms. "Oh, it is you," she hiccuped, tongue suddenly thick and obtrusive in her mouth so that the words that followed tripped and tumbled out in a single, intelligible rush.

"Will!" Lyra cried, flying at him in a flurry of hair and limbs, nearly tripping over their entwined daemons and abandoning her bag to the floor without thought, "Oh, Will, I knew you were here!" She didn't hesitate to throw her arms around him as soon as she could, everything else muffled into his shirt. "You just had to be 'cause I seen you listed, I just knew it was you I just knew it!"

[knifebearer]

"Oh - Lyra," stammered Will, hugging her so tight he thought his arms might crack. He could feel the small bones of her back against his hands and the rapid beat of her heart against his chest and the smell of her tangled hair, painfully familiar and yet different too, the difference that two years apart would make, and it filled him with so much happiness he could hardly breathe. I didn't make it, I was late, I'm sorry, he thought stupidly. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry or do a stupid little dance, but ended up doing nothing but holding her, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.