It was a windy Saturday morning, and the clouds were having arguments up in the sky. Lyra always wondered what was going on up there. "Pan, what do you think the clouds are arguing about?" she asked her daemon. Pantalaimon, who was in the form of a Siamese, shrugged his small shoulders. Lyra's long, dirty blonde hair blew in the wind and her pale blue eyes widened. She spent all her thirteen years in this collage and she was desperate to get out. She climbed out of her bedroom window onto the roof and Pan followed. He slipped, falling onto the long, metal pipe. "Ouch!" screeched Lyra as she grasped her arm. You may think this strange but your daemon is a part of you. When they get hurt, you do. They also can read your mind. Pan came back in the form of a ferret, scratched terribly. " Sorry!" he mumbled under his breath. Lyra climbed higher, singing her favourite song. "Frere Jaques, frere Jaques, Dormez vous? Dormez vous?" she eventually got to the top, and she smiled as Roger, the kitchen boy stumbled over. His big brown eyes were twinkling and his mud brown hair was untidy and thick. " Roger Parslow! You are so messy!" Lyra laughed. "I know. Me and Salcilia," he said, pointing to his daemon, who was in the form of a beagle " have been playing with de poor un's." Salcilia looked up and grinned. "Anyway, what do ya think yours will settle into?" Lyra scratched her head and thought. When you're an adult, your daemon will settle into one creature and stay like that for the rest of your life. " I hope it's nothing like a dung beetle or a rat. I would maybe like a cat?" she considered. "Well," Roger began, " I hope my young un will stay as she is. I don't think I want her to change!" Lyra sat down on one of the pipes and looked at the view. "Wow, this is beautiful! Who knew the sunset could be so fascinating!" she exclaimed.

She climbed back into her room and said goodbye to Roger before sitting before her desk and writing her to do list. In the corner she wrote in her scruffy handwriting: ' Mayk  kakes for Rojer and giv ve por peepel sum muneey. Doo not forget too giv miss Sara her muneey for daylee nuspayper.'  

" Lyra! This is all spelt wrong!" Pan grumbled. Lyra ignored him and when her head hit her pillow she drifted off to sleep...