Henri Matisse Red Fish

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poet Keats said it first. Dr. Malone knows. It's how I read the alethiometer. It's how you use the knife, isn't it?"
"Yes, I should ever topple, but here it was.
The vast trunk, supported in the grove by its torn-up roots and out on the grass by the mass of branches, was high above their heads. Some of those branches, crushed and broken, were themselves as big around as the biggest trees Will had ever seen; the crown of the tree, tight-packed with boughs that still looked sturdy, leaves that were still green, towered like a ruined palace into the mild air.
Suddenly Lyra gripped Will's arm.
"Shh," she whispered. "Don't look. I'm sure they're up there. I sasuppose it is. But I was just thinking that they might be the daemons.""So was I, but..."She put her finger to her lips. He nodded."Look," he said, "there's one of those fallen trees."It was Mary's climbing tree. They went up to it carefully, keeping an eye on the grove in case another one should fall. In the calm morning, with only a faint breeze stirring the leaves, it seemed impossible that a mighty thing like this w something move and I swear it was Pan..."