Lyra jumped up and down. "West Ham 1, Chelsea 0!" she yelled, receiving some funny looks- and a glare from the Saucepan man. It looked very out of place on him. What am I talking about? she wondered to herself, but nevertheless it felt right.
"I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air-" she began to sing, as glasses around the room smashed in their owners' hands.
Suddenly she saw a familiar face from across the room.
"Earwen!" she called, waving madly.
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“Sylphs of the forest,” I whispered. “Spirits of oak, beech and ash. Dryads of Rowan and hazel, hear us. You who have guided and guarded our every footstep, you who have sheltered our growth, we honour you."
the Forbidden Link
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