It's like dying.

The worst death, drowning in cold, like the world is made of frigid motionless hate, like there is nothing else but chill animosity.

Chelsa screams.

And then the world comes back, every pinpoint of warmth a lifeline in exquisite detailed liveliness - there's her pretty Tima and her devoted Amdon and her gentle Anneia and her warm sun -

Her warm sun.

And another very like.

The sensitivity is gone almost as soon as the cold is, but now she knows.

There were only two like that.

Harley is on the planet.