But suppose your dæmon settles in a shape you don't like? Well, then, you're discontented, en't you? There's plenty of folk as'd like to have a lion… - Philip Pullman

Lyra, I'm going to give you something, and you must promise to keep it private. Will you swear to that?" "Yes," Lyra said. He crossed to the desk and took from a drawer a small package wrapped in black velvet. When he unfolded the cloth, Lyra saw something like a large watch or a small clock: a thick disk of gold and crystal. It might have been a compass or something of the sort. "What is it?" she said. "It's an alethiometer. It's one of only six that were ever made. Lyra, I urge you again: keep it private. It would be better if Mrs. Coulter didn't know about it. Your uncle — " "But what does it do?" "It tells you the truth. As for how to read it, you'll have to learn by yourself. Now go — it's getting lighter — hurry back to your room before anyone sees you.

Wir spüren die Kälte, aber sie macht uns nichts aus, denn sie schadet uns nicht. Wenn wir uns gegen die Kälte warm anziehen würden, könnten wir andere Dinge nicht mehr spüren, das Kribbeln der Sterne oder die Musik des Mondlichtes auf der Haut. Dafür lohnt es sich, die Kälte zu ertragen.

In Lyra’s heart, revulsion struggled with compassion, and compassion won.