Whatever happened to Meliantha in the time between where she came from and now, one thing it did was make her already strong will even more indominable. She sets herself and walks through the snow as if she doesn't feel it. (And perhaps she doesn't.)

And she pushes through the fog, grimacing at the stench, but still, pushing on.

When she steps through into the autumn, she starts to talk, a bit more audible now.

"...Sure, you'll yell at me, especially for what I said to Pidonus, but then you'll also take a bunch of us to, what was it, Halloween in Manhattan, and no one stares at us. And you'll be the one to slap some sense into me when I lose my eye and point out what it could have been. So you're going to get through this. If you can hear me, you are going to get through this. Because, Doctor, you never stop fighting against the dark. You picked a few of us up from after this, because you needed help, and you did the one thing almost no one ever did when they needed my help."

She reaches over her shoulder, drawing her sword, and the gem on the eyepatch glows, redly.

"You said please. You showed me respect. And when it was over you said thank you."

The sword crackles with lightning, and with fire, and there is rime on it, and it hums.

"But that hasn't happened yet. From what you told me, it might not ever, because of how time travel works."

She draws herself up into one of her battle stances, and moves forwards, prepared.

"And if I have anything to say about it, it's going to have the chance." Then she clears her throat.

"I am Meliantha of Helm, and the Doctor is under my protection."

And then her voice thunders:

"LET. HIM. GO.