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sound would escape.
But Pantalaimon, in answer, had twisted free of those hateful hands-he was a lion, an eagle; he tore at them with vicious talons, great wings beat wildly, and then he was a wolf, a bear, a polecat-darting, snarling, slashing, a succession of transformations too quick to register, and all the time leaping, flying, dodging from one spot to than ever, until the man holding her gasped and let go for a moment-and she was free, and Pantalaimon sprang toward her like a spark of lightning, and she clutched him to her fierce breast, and he dug his wildcat claws into her flesh, and every stab of pain was dear to her.another as their clumsy hands flailed and snatched at the empty air.But they had daemons too, of course. It wasn't two against three, it was two against six. A badger, an owl, and a baboon were all just as intent to pin Pantalaimon down, and Lyra was crying to them: "Why? Why are you doing this? Help us! You shouldn't be helping them!"And she kicked and bit more passionately