He makes a small noise at the back of his throat and stops, his right hand partly raised. She wears the shadows like veils, but they do not mask her identity. He stares. It's even worse than he had thought. Trapped, she must have lived for some time after... .
He shakes his head.
No use. She must be cut loose and buried now—disposed of.
He crawls forward. The icy slope does not grow level until he is quite near her. His gaze never leaves her form as he advances. The shadows slide over her. He can almost hear her again.
He thinks of the shadows. She couldn't have moved just then. ... He stops and studies her face. It is not frozen. It is puckered and sagging as if waterlogged. A caricature of the face he had so often touched. He grimaces and looks away. The leg must be freed. He reaches for his axe.
Before he can take hold of the tool he sees movement of the hand, slow and shaking. It is accompanied by a throaty sigh.
"No ... ," he whispers, drawing back.
"Yes," comes the reply.
"Glenda."
"I am here." Her head turns slowly. Reddened, watery eyes focus upon his own. "I have been waiting."
"This is insane."
The movement of the face is horrible. It takes him some time to realize that it is a smile.
"I knew that one day you would return."
"How?" he says. "How have you lasted?"
"The body is nothing," she replies. "I had all but forgotten it. I live within the permafrost of this world. My buried foot was in contact with its filaments. It was alive, but it possessed no consciousness until we met. I live everywhere now."
"I am—happy—that you—survived."
She laughs slowly, dryly.
"Really, Paul? How could that be when you left me to die?"
"I had no choice, Glenda. I couldn't save you."
"There was an opportunity. You preferred the stones to my life."
"That's not true!"
"You didn't even try." The arms are moving again, less jerkily now. "You didn't even come back to recover my body."
"What would have been the use? You were dead—or I thought you were."
"Exactly. You didn't know, but you ran out anyway. I loved you, Paul. I would have done anything for you."
"I cared about you, too, Glenda. I would have helped you if I could have. If—"
"If? Don't if me ifs. I know what you are."
"I loved you," Paul says. "I'm sorry."
"You loved me? You never said it."
"It's not the sort of thing I talk about easily. Or think about, even."
"Show me," she says. "Come here."
He looks away. "I can't."
She laughs. "You said you loved me."
"You—you don't know how you look. I'm sorry."
"You fool!" Her voice grows hard, imperious. "Had you done it I would have spared your life. It would have shown me that some tiny drop of affection might truly have existed. But you lied. You only used me. You didn't care."
"You're being unfair!"
"Am I? Am I really?" she says. There comes a sound like running water from somewhere nearby. "You would speak to me of fairness? I have hated you, Paul, for nearly a century. Whenever I took a moment from regulating the life of this planet to think about it, I would curse you. In the spring as I shifted my consciousness toward the poles and allowed a part of myself to dream, my nightmares were of you. They actually upset the ecology somewhat, here and there. I have waited, and now you are here. I see nothing to redeem you. I shall use you as you used me—to your destruction. Come to me!"
He feels a force enter into his body. His muscles twitch. He is drawn up to his knees. Held in that position for long moments, then he beholds her as she also rises, drawing a soaking leg from out of the crevice where it had been held. He had heard the running water. She had somehow melted the ice... .
She smiles and raises her pasty hands. Multitudes of dark filaments extend from her freed leg down into the crevice.
"Come!" she repeats.
"Please ..." he says.
She shakes her head. "Once you were so ardent. I cannot understand you."
"If you're going to kill me then kill me, damn it! But don't—"
Her features begin to flow. Her hands darken and grow firm. In moments she stands before him looking as she did a century ago.
"Glenda!" He rises to his feet.
"Yes. Come now."
He takes a step forward. Another.
Shortly, he holds her in his arms, leans to kiss her smiling face.
"You forgive me ..." he says.
Her face collapses as he kisses her. Corpselike, flaccid, and pale once more, it is pressed against his own.