Lyra's nightmare was just getting interesting when the world jerked her out of it. She was running through a corridor with no ceiling, chased by a shadow that howled her name. The floor sloped upward, and with every lunge forward, the shadow behind her grew claws and fangs and called her by a name she did not remember until she fell.
She awoke with a gasp, but the real world was no comfort. The bell at her throat sang its humiliating song as she sat up too quickly. Dawn had barely touched the narrow window of her chamber, but Maggie stood over her cot, with a basin in one hand and a cloth in the other. Her face was grimmer than usual, the lines around her mouth pressed into rigid angles.
"Up," Maggie said. "You are wanted."
