It was carved from bone—or something that wished it was bone. It was the size of a large tomcat, curled as if asleep. Its fur was not hair, but thousands of tiny, painted eyelashes. Its teeth were seed pearls. And its eyes… its eyes were two drops of amber that seemed to hold a tiny, frozen flame.
“It needed a bed,” Mr. Pembroke said, his voice a perfect, hollow imitation of itself. “So I gave it my insides.” mark ryden wolf
Lyra returned the next morning. She found Mr. Pembroke sitting in his favorite chair. He was smiling. His eyes were two new amber drops. And curled across his lap, now the size of a pony, was the wolf. Its fur was made of soft, gray smoke. Its claws were polished bone. It was carved from bone—or something that wished
“I found it in the attic,” Lyra whispered. “Behind the dollhouse.” Its teeth were seed pearls