Vincent van Gogh Farmhouse in Provence

Vincent van Gogh Farmhouse in ProvenceVincent van Gogh Wheat Field with CypressesVincent van Gogh Roses
Lena Feldt turned and saw her snow bunting daemon fluttering and shrieking as if he were in a glass chamber that was being emptied of air; fluttering and falling, slumping, failing, his beak opening wide, gasping in panic. The Specter had "Twenty! Let him go, let him go!"
"All in the air? Or do some of you stay on the ground with the children?"
"Most in the air, three or four on the ground always—this is anguish—let him go or kill me now!"
"How far up the mountain are they? Are they moving on, or have they stopped to rest?"
Lena Feldt told her everything. She could have resisted any torture but what was turned back in anguish to the woman."Let him go! Please let him go!" she cried."We'll see. Is the child with you? The girl Lyra?""Yes!""And a boy, too? A boy with a knife?""Yes—I beg you—""And how many witches enveloped him."No!" she cried, and tried to move toward it, but was driven back by a spasm of nausea. Even in her sickened distress, Lena Feldt could see that Mrs. Coulter had more force in her soul than anyone she had ever seen. It didn't surprise her to see that the Specter was under Mrs. Coulter's power; no one could resist that authority. Lena Feldt have you?"