“Her world was lonely and silent. Now that there was open water, there was no longer the crash of the ice pack, the long, low grind of the floes churning against one another, the deep and sudden splash of water as masses of the pack broke off and plunged into the sea, or the staccato burst like rifle shots that echoed across the island as the ice expanded. There was only the sound of her own voice as she spoke to Vic. She fussed over the cat like a mother and picked up and held her in her arms and talked to her like she had talked to Crawford and the others. Vic was a warm, breathing creature, who responded in purrs and rubs and an occasional meow. Ada thought she would go insane without her.”