The door was swung open and Dale stepped out. This was nothing like the picture Twilight had drawn. Am I being Shanghaied? That didn't seem like the kind of thing they'd do . . . but, he would have thought the same about whatever brought him here. Lyra hadn't known, and he didn't, either. All the time they'd spent the night before going over drawings, and explaining what had happened on the beach for the benefit of the fancy white stallion, and there still didn’t seem to be an answer—or if there was, they weren’t sharing it with him.