She had been frozen in time. And in reality.
Now slowly, steadily, she dripped, dripped, dripped. A thawing.
Flash frozen when she fell into the crevice between sections of the massive glacier which had covered what would someday be upstate New York.
The weather was more temperate this millennium. Ice had receded to its polar home.
Found. Discovered by a wanderers. Who were astonished to see this woman … or whatever it was … apparently made of ice.
They propped her up by the fire. Thus she dripped, consciousness leaking into her brain in tiny flashes.
She was hardly aware of her surroundings when she felt the flames. Licking at her. Fire. Warm, hot, searing. Barely time to register being alive, she was dead all over again.
It was the fire, this time.