On, said the alethiometer. Farther, higher.
So on they climbed. The witches flew above to spy out the best routes, because the hilly land soon gave way to steeper slopes and rocky footing, and as the sun rose toward noon, the travelers found themselves in a tangled land ullies, cliffs, and boulder-strewn valleys where not a single green leaf grew, and where the stridulation of is was the only sound.
They moved on, stopping only for sips of water from their goatskin flasks, and talking little.
Pantalaimon flew above Lyras head for a while until he tired of that, and then he became a little sure-footed mountain sheep, vain of his horns, leaping among rocks while Lyra scrambled laboriously alongside. Will moved on grimly, screwing up his eyes against the glare, ign the worsening pain from his hand, and finally reag a state in whient alone was good and stillness bad, so that he suffered more from resting than from toiling on. And sihe failure of the witch……（内容加载失败！）
(ò﹏ò)
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