Chapter Twenty Two

Lyra reached up toward the little light that filtered down into the darkness. She was drowning. Barley was swimming too. His hand was outstretched, and the single light beam bounced off his red hair. Barley's eyes closed, and he drifted off into the dark water. Lyra tried to reach him, opening her mouth in a watery scream.

Lyra jolted awake, sitting in a pool of sweat. She gasped, rubbing her eyes. The grass surrounding her was covered in dew. Lyra's eyes drifted to Barley's grave, and she closed her eyes tightly. Just a dream. But was it?

Lyra saw that Fox's blanket was there, but she wasn't. Lyra slowly stood, stretching a bit. She heard some leaves crunching, and Lyra walked over to the sound.

Fox was angrily slicing her knife in the air, cutting down small branches. She stabbed it into a tree, angry tears streaming from her dark green eyes. Lyra stood hidden, watching silently.

Fox's shoulders shook a bit, and she sighed, leaning against a tree. Lyra showed herself, but didn't approach. "It's not your fault, you know." Lyra said quietly, staring at the ground. Fox ran her fingers through her hair. Then she turned around, her voice rough.

"Alright. Clearly, we are at a bit of a crossroads. You go back to Fenrir-" she made a slicing motion across her throat. "But we can't just stick around. I have a place you can go. But from there, we go our separate ways. And if I'm going to help you, here are a couple rules."

Fox held up one finger: "Rule number one. Don't mention Barley. We aren't going to talk about him, we aren't going to mention him, nothing. Rule number two. I'm going to take you somewhere. That's it. We're not best friends loving and being amazing with each other. We just happen to be traveling. That's all. Let's pack."

Lyra nodded, and they packed without a word. Fox brushed the dirt on Barley's grave on last time. Soon, the two were on their way, still silent.

"Where are we going, exactly?" Lyra asked, shifting her bag. She felt her violin shift inside. Fox was holding Barley's flute, brushing her finger along  the wood.

"It's a refuge, for people wanted by the king. There's hundreds of people there, and they could use a healer." Lyra bit her lip. She realized she could never really go back to Fenrir. It felt odd, to never return to her home. It painfully reminded her of Es.

Lyra looked at the rising sun. What was she going to do?

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