Dawn saw Lyra wake early in the darkness, slipping out of bed and hastily pulling on Sterlyn’s clothes, her boots and scarf, and racing to the stables. The vardo was ready to leave, but that didn’t stop her from checking it over several times, making sure the wheels were oiled, her belongings were stowed away where they couldn’t be thrown about, that the internal fixtures were secured down.

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Lyra repeated herself. “I want to go to the stables and see Coco,” she said.

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Lyra was twenty when it happened.

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Once upon a time, there was a story.

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