Lyra's POV
Sometime along the way, I must have fallen unconscious, because I opened my eyes not to the carriage and bed of fodder or to Liora's straight lean back, but to the three walls of a cell and the strong steel gate that barred me from the cell. The walls were rough and dirty, and the cell smelled of fermented urine and poop.
It was hard to take a single breath without inhaling the foul, gut-wrenching odor that was slowly beginning to pollute my insides.
I covered my mouth with my palm as I sat up, tossing away the pile of nonsense that littered the place as I struggled to rest my head against the wall.
I filtered the air I inhaled with my palm. And that meant I wasn't getting much air to breathe in. The restricted airflow caused a burning pain in my lungs, but I couldn't dare take my palm off my nose. I had a feeling the smell would be more fatal than the restrictive breathing I was practicing.
