32 Lyra
“Paulo, when can we stop?” she groans from her spot laying across her horse’s neck.
He glances at her, haggard from lack of sleep. “Soon Lyra. We’re almost out.” He pulls out another apple and starts to slice it, passing her chunks. “Come on, we are almost there; you can hold on a bit longer.”
“Don’t cut yourself again,” she says weakly, reaching out to get the wedge. “I am feeling a little better.”
“Are you?” Paulo turns, his eyebrow reaching into his hair.
“I feel stronger; it’s just my head is pounding. I can feel every move.” She rotates her neck slowly, trying to work out the kinks.
“I think we are almost out of here. I keep getting glimpses of something in the distance that just looks wide open. We should be able to rest for a bit then.”
Lyra turns her head away from
