There is still a source of warmth nearby, an entity that—even in the midst of this horrific torture that blasts most cogent thoughts from her mind—she somehow knows is familiar and incomparably intimate. She wants desperately to cling to it, but some inexorable force is tearing her away from it. The pain somehow, inexplicably, intensifies as a wave of cold blasts her. It’s more than cold; it’s cryogenic.