Her first impulse was to turn and run, or to be sick. A human being with no daemon was like someohout a face, or with their ribs laid open and their heart torn out: something unnatural and uny that beloo the world of night-ghasts, not the waking world of sense.
So Lyra g to Pantalaimon and her head swam and her ge rose, and cold as the night was, a sickly sweat moistened her flesh with something colder still.
“Ratter,” said the boy. “You got my Ratter?”
Lyra was in no doubt what he meant.
“No,” she said in a voice as frail and frightened as she felt. Then, “Whats your name?”
“Tony Makarios,” he said. “Wheres Ratter?”
“I dont know...” she began, and swallowed hard to govern her nausea. “The Gobblers...” But she couldnt finish. She had to go out of the shed and sit down by herself in the snow, except that of course she wasnt by herself, she was never by herself, because Pantalaimon was always there. Oh, to be cut from him as this little bo……（内容加载失败！）
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