Lyra forced herself to wash the dirt and the smell of Jarek away. She lay down on her ratty mattress and finally allowed herself to be vulnerable. She cried herself to sleep. This was the only time she allowed her defenses to drop after the cruelty of the day's events. Here, in the dark safety of her chamber, no one saw her tears, and no one could take pity on her.
That night, as Lyra slept, the door to her room creaked open slowly, and someone stepped into the darkness. The figure paused, scanning the chamber silently. Their eyes landed on the little stool in the corner, where Lyra's ripped clothes were folded. The person picked them up and brought them to their nose, inhaling deeply. Then they moved closer to her bed, watching her sleep peacefully for a long moment before turning silently and slipping out of the room.
