Dale scribbled her words—and her symbol—in his notebook, while Lyra shifted uncomfortably on the cooler. She shouldn’t have had that coffee. It had helped her focus, but now it was causing other problems. The sky was still overcast—although the rain had tapered off to a misty drizzle—so she didn’t know what time it was. Still, there was no way she was going to make it to the end of the day, and she didn’t know how to ask a somewhat vital question.