Lyra's POV
Strong arms seized both my arms from behind, tight as bands. Then the men began dragging me along the street, my robe sweeping the stones, raking up dirt and dust.
It's her. The men had simply said, as if it was a crime being me. I had no idea what I had done—why I was being taken. My mind snapped back to the very moment I and Zarek landed on the hill, searching for the crime I might have committed. Was it the bread?
It couldn't be the bread. One of the men had asked me to take it. Besides, that doesn't explain why I was being treated like a criminal.
I looked up ahead, throwing my eyes desperately in search of Zarek. But he was gone—vanished from the street.
What did I expect from the bastard anyway? Future past. He was still the same evil bastard. The evil bastard had always wanted me dead.
