You awaken on a frozen beach. The icy hand of dread clutches your heart (or is it the icy cold hand of the fact that it's really friggin' cold?) Eventually a polar bear arrives and falls in love with you and makes you princess of the frozen north and gives you beautiful robes made of seal pelt and magnificent headdresses of penguin feathers and ice crystals cunningly fashioned into all sorts of jewelry (because it's so cold it never melts, you see) and dresses woven of strange secret arctic plants and silver and gold bracelets and necklaces captured in daring raids on human towns in southern climes like Saskatoon and Rekjavik and strings of pearls and beautiful magical shoes given to you by the queen of the faeries in exchange for a free trade agreement with the kingdom of the bears and, in short, it's great, just great.

THE END