Lyra's POV
We landed in a secluded alley in the city. The stones were scalding hot against my bare feet, and the sun was beating down on us with a million years supply of sunniness. But that was the least of my problems.
Inside me, my stomach still refused to stop protesting. Though its grumblings had been reduced to a low growl—the churning part, not so much. I felt like I was being ripped apart in two, my intestines curling and twisting inside of me.
The bread didn't solve my hunger then; rather, it made my stomach desperate for more.
Draziel's gaze dropped fast to my feet as I lifted them one after another to cool from the hot stones, while I was crunched almost like a half ball from the ache in my stomach.
"You should have told me, Lyra. I'd have gotten you a boot in the castle," he cried, his eyes wide on my feet.
