Magic perfuses te whole damn landscape. Lyra scoffed back, Yer queer prophesying would be more 'elpful tellin' me where I can go t'avoid the damn ting. It was a terrible curse to lay on a man, and she couldn't entirely find it in her to be sad if he'd freed himself from the spiral of rebirth. Involvement in fae to such degree guaranteed a tragedy. But some were more painful ends than others, to be sure.

Snark aside, still something in the way the Wisp had said her warning prickled Lyra's spine. In people. Like breath and bone. Her narrowed brow kept pointed at the Wisp for a few heartbeats longer. Your man best not be comin' thru te inn roof. Tell 'im t'aim fer te sea or sommat.

A jest. Wisp didn't seem to have the power. But a warning, as well. Lyra hoped this was fae banter and not some sinister omen of a worse revelation to come. And she was trying to be nice, right now, so she couldn't exactly screech and throttle the Wisp demanding she stop being vague in the midst of a snow storm.

Even if the thought appealed to Lyra.