Lyra took a deep breath. She was in her bedroom, and Twilight’s book was on the floor in front of her, opened to that wonderfully detailed illustration of a hand. She’d gone over it a few times – the way each finger on the hand was formed, how long they were, the placement of the joints. She’d once come across a human expression about knowing the back of your hand – she was probably about as familiar with it as any human ever was by now.