Drelasa scrambles to shut the door behind her, a gust of a wind and a few stray snowflakes threatening to follow her in.

“Oh, thank Celestine, to be out of that biting wind,” she shivers, unwrapping her scarf and slipping off her claw-friendly gloves.

“I suppose it will not surprise you to hear, Dr. Watson, that a volcano-dwelling womer such as I does not have the friendliest relationship with the cold.”