The chime of the bells fills him with dread, and terror.
"Lyra!" he calls, uncaring of who hears him, and Kirjava leaps crying back to his breast.
"Oh, Lyra, if you can hear me at all--I'll find a way! I love you, now and forever. Always. Always."
He clutches Kirjava fiercely to him, and she cries to Pantalaimon, far of in some distant universe, calling, calling, forlorn and lost.
The last bell shivers into silence, and he shakes there, on the bench, in fury and sorrow and longing. Because now she is gone again, and this--this is as close as he will ever be able to get.
Kirjava cries against his breast, and he stands, shakily, and looks down at the other half of the bench.
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"Lyra!" he calls, uncaring of who hears him, and Kirjava leaps crying back to his breast.
"Oh, Lyra, if you can hear me at all--I'll find a way! I love you, now and forever. Always. Always."
He clutches Kirjava fiercely to him, and she cries to Pantalaimon, far of in some distant universe, calling, calling, forlorn and lost.
The last bell shivers into silence, and he shakes there, on the bench, in fury and sorrow and longing. Because now she is gone again, and this--this is as close as he will ever be able to get.
Kirjava cries against his breast, and he stands, shakily, and looks down at the other half of the bench.
"I love you," he says again, a whisper.
"Don't forget me."