beasts Come from the deep valley looking at the sleeping girl —William Blake Close to the snow line was a valley shaded by rhododendrons, and in the valley ran a milky stream of melted snow, where pigeons and cardinals flew among the giant pines, and swarmed over the rocks and beneath them. A hole was half hidden in the straight, stiff leaves. The woods are full of sounds: the singing of the brook among the rocks, the howling of the wind among the needles of the pine branches, the chatter of insects, the cry of mammals in the small trees, and the singing of birds, and every now and then a gust of more A strong wind makes the branches of a cedar or fir collide with each other and groan like a cello.

It is a sunny place, and the sun is always so dappled.Lemon-like golden beams of light shot through the brown-green shade to the forest floor.That light is never static nor everlasting, for often the erratic fog will float among the treetops, filtering all the sunlight into a pearly sheen, wiping every pine cone wet, as soon as the fog rises Just sparkle.Sometimes the moisture in the clouds condenses into tiny particles of mist and rain that float downward instead of falling, softly rustling and rattling among the millions of pine needles. There is a narrow path beside the creek, which leads from a small village at the bottom of the valley-that is, a few shepherd's houses-to a half-destroyed shrine near the glacier at the top of the valley. There are oatmeal cakes and dry tea offered by devout villagers on the shrines, and the strange effects of light, ice and steam cover the valley top in rainbows all year round.

The cave is located above the path and the place is worshiped in memory of a saint who lived in it many years ago to meditate, fast and pray.The cave is about thirty feet deep and the ground is dry: an ideal den for bears and wolves, but the only animals that have inhabited it for many years are birds and bats. However, the thing crouching inside the cave at this moment is neither a bird nor a bat.He pricked up two pointed ears, and a pair of black eyes looked here and there.The sun shone thickly and heavily on his shiny golden hair. Two monkey paws fiddled with a pine cone left and right, sharp fingers broke off the scales, and grabbed the sweet flesh.Behind him, at a point out of the sun, Mrs. Coulter was boiling water in a small saucepan on a naphtha stove.Her daemon murmured an alarm, and Mrs. Coulter looked up out of the cave.

Along the forest path came a little country girl, and Mrs. Coulter knew who she was: Amma had been bringing her food for days.Mrs. Coulter had made it clear to her when she first arrived that she was a saint engaged in meditation and prayer, sworn never to speak to a man, and that Amma was the only visitor she accepted. However, she was not alone this time, her father came with her.When Ama climbed up towards the entrance of the cave, he waited not far away. Ama came to the entrance of the cave, bowed and said, "My father sent me here, hoping to have a friendly relationship with you."

"You're welcome, children," said Mrs. Coulter. The girl was holding a package wrapped in old cotton cloth. She put the package at Mrs. Coulter's feet, held out a small bunch of flowers, about a dozen anemones tied with cotton thread, and said anxiously and nervously: speak up.Mrs. Coulter knew some of the language of these mountain people, but they couldn't let them know how much she knew. So she smiled, motioned the girls to shut up, and looked at their two elves.The golden monkey stretched out his little black hand, and Ama's butterfly spirit flew closer and closer, and finally landed on a thick, callused index finger.

The golden monkey slowly brought him to his ear, and Mrs. Coulter felt a thin stream of understanding flow into her mind, and the girl's words became clear all of a sudden.The villagers were glad to have a saint like her take refuge in the cave, but it was rumored that she had a somewhat dangerous and powerful companion, and it was this that frightened the villagers.Is this man Mrs. Coulter's master or servant?Is she malicious?Why was she there in the first place?Are they going to stay long? Ama expressed these questions with trepidation. As the elf's understanding penetrated into her heart, Mrs. Coulter suddenly thought of a novel answer. She could tell the truth, not the whole truth, of course, but only part of the truth.She couldn't help laughing at the idea, but she tried to keep the trembling smile out of her voice as she explained: "Yes, there's someone with me, but there's nothing to be afraid of, she It's my daughter, put to sleep by a spell. We're here to escape the sorcerer who put a spell on her while I try to heal her and keep her safe. Come and see her if you want .”

Mrs. Coulter's soft voice made Amma half relieved, but she was still a little scared.The talk of wizards and spells added to the horror she felt, but the golden monkey held her daemon so gently, and she was curious too, that she followed Mrs. Coulter into the cave. Down in the path my father took a step forward, and his raven sprite raised its wings, but he stayed where he was. Because the light was fading rapidly, Mrs. Coulter lit a candle and led Amma to the bottom of the cave.The little girl's big round eyes gleamed in the dim light, and her hands kept repeating the movement of pressing her thumbs, so as to confuse the evil spirits and avoid danger.

"Did you see that?" said Mrs. Coulter. "She won't hurt anybody. There's nothing to be afraid of." Ama looked at the people in the sleeping bag.It was a little girl, perhaps three or four years older than her, with a hair color Amma had never seen before—a pale yellow like a lion.Her lips were tightly shut and she was fast asleep, no doubt about that, for her daemon curled unconsciously at her throat.He looked a little like a mongoose, but smaller, and was golden-red, and the golden monkey stroked the hair between his ears gently.While watching, the mongoose-like animal moved uncomfortably and let out a hoarse meow.Ama's elf, like a mouse, clings tightly to Ama's neck, peeping timidly through her hair.

"You can tell your father what you see," went on Mrs. Coulter. "There are no evil spirits, it's just my daughter, who is asleep under a spell, and I'm taking care of her. But, A Ma, please tell your father that this is a well-kept secret and that no one but you two should know that Lyra is here. If the wizard finds out where she is, he will find her and destroy her, destroy me, destroy this Everything around. So don't say anything! Only tell your father." She knelt down beside Laila, brushed her daughter's wet hair back from her sleeping face, leaned down and kissed her daughter's cheek, then raised her eyes full of sadness and love and smiled at Ama laugh.There was such courage and compassion in that smile that the little girl felt tears fill her eyes.

Mrs. Coulter took Ama's hand and walked back to the entrance of the cave, and saw the girl's father looking anxiously below.The woman clasped her hands together and bowed to him.The girl was seen bowing to Mrs. Coulter and the bewitched dreamer, turning and bouncing down the slope in the twilight.With a sigh of relief, he returned Mrs. Coulter's salute.The father and daughter bowed to the entrance of the cave again, and then set off to disappear in the faint shadow of the thick rhododendrons. Mrs. Coulter turned to look at the water on the stove, which was almost boiling.She squatted down, crushed some dried leaves and put them in the water, squeezed two pinches from this pocket, pinched two pinches from that pocket, and added three drops of a kind of pale yellow oil.She stirred briskly, counting five minutes in her head, then took the little saucepan off the heat and sat down to let the liquid in it cool.

Beside her were some gear from the camp at Blue Lake, where Charles Latrome had died: a sleeping bag, a rucksack with a change of clothes and laundry utensils, and so on.There was also a canvas case with a rough wooden frame trimmed with kapok, containing various instruments, and a pistol in a holster. The boil cooled quickly in the thin air, and as soon as it had cooled to the point where it was as hot as blood, she carefully poured it into a metal goblet and sent it down to the bottom of the cave.The monkey spirit dropped the pine cone and followed her. Mrs. Coulter carefully placed the goblet on a low rock and knelt down beside the sleeping Lyra.The golden monkey crouched on her other side, ready to grab Pantalaimon if he woke up. Lyra's hair was wet, her eyes rolled behind closed lids, and she was about to move: Mrs. Coulter had felt her eyelashes flutter just now when she had kissed her, and knew she would soon be fully awake. She put one hand under the girl's head, and with the other lifted the wet strands of hair from her forehead.Lyra parted her lips and moaned softly, and Pantalaimon moved a little closer to her chest.The Golden Monkey never took his eyes off Lyra's daemon, his little black fingers twitching on the edge of his sleeping bag. Mrs. Coulter glanced at him, and he let go, stepping back a hand away.The woman gently lifted her daughter off the ground by lifting her shoulders off the ground. Laila's head drooped lazily, and then she suddenly held her breath, her eyes trembling slightly half-opened, heavy. "Roger," she murmured, "Roger... where are you... I can't see..." "Shh," her mother whispered, "Shh, honey, drink this." She put the goblet to Lyra's mouth, tilted it a little so that a drop of the concoction moistened her lips.Lyra's tongue felt it and turned to lick it.Mrs. Coulter let more juice flow into her mouth, and she was very careful not to feed her another mouthful until she had finished one. The medicine was fed for a few minutes, but the wine glass was finally emptied, and Mrs. Coulter put her daughter back on her back.As soon as Lyra's head hit the ground Pantalaimon was around her throat again, the reddish-gold fur as wet as her hair, and they fell asleep again. The golden monkey tiptoed to the entrance of the cave, sat down and looked at the path again.Mrs. Coulter soaked a flannel cloth in a basin of cold water and wiped Laila's face, then undid her sleeping bag and washed her arms and neck and shoulders because Laila was hot.Then she took another comb and gently brushed Laila's curls back, smoothing them back from her forehead and parting them neatly. She left the sleeping bag open so the girl could cool off.She opened the package Ama sent, which contained several flat breads, a piece of compressed tea, and several sticky rice balls wrapped in large leaves.It's time to start a fire, the night in the mountains is very cold.She went to work methodically, scraped off some dry tinder, struck a match and lit a fire.That was another thing to consider: the matches were almost out, and the naphtha for the stove was almost out, and from now on she had to keep the fire burning day and night. Her elf wasn't happy, he didn't like what she was doing in the cave, and every time he tried to express his concerns she ignored him.He turned his back and threw the scales from the pine cone out of the dark hole, every line of his body was full of disdain.She didn't pay any attention to it, but just worked in an orderly manner, skillfully turned up the fire, and sat in a small pan to boil water to make tea. Still, his misgivings had an effect on her.Crushing the dark gray tea bricks into the water, she wondered what the hell she was doing, if she had gone mad, and wondered again and again what the church would do if it found out.Golden Monkey was right, she wasn't just hiding Laila, she was hiding her own eyes. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ A little boy comes out of the darkness, full of hope, full of fear, Calling softly over and over again: "Lyla--Lyla--Lyla..." There are two figures behind him, more hazy and silent than him.They seemed to be together, of a kind, but they had no faces to see, and no voices to speak.His voice was always low, and his face was obscured and obscured like something that was almost forgotten. "Laila... Lyla..." where are they This is a vast and boundless plain, the iron-black sky has no light shining on it, and the thick fog covers the surrounding horizon tightly.The ground is bare earth, flattened by billions of feet, though those feet were lighter than a feather; so time must have flattened it, though time stood still here; so it must have been the way it was.This is the end of all places, the end of all worlds. "Cera..." why are they there They were imprisoned, someone had committed a crime, but no one knew what crime was committed, who committed it, and who condemned it. Why does the little boy keep calling Laila's name? hope. Who are they? ghost. Lyra couldn't touch them, no matter how hard she tried.She flicked her bewildered hands back and forth, and the little boy stood still pleading. "Roger," she said, but her voice broke into a low murmur, "Oh, Roger, where are you? What is this place?" He said: "This is the world of the dead, Laila - I don't know what to do - I don't know if I'll never be able to leave this place again - I don't know if I've done anything wrong or what Bad thing, because I want to be good, but I hate it here. I'm scared of it all, I hate-"