(2) Two Doctors, two destinies.....
Continued from here.
The Doctor crawled out of the rude tent, emitted a gaping yawn, and stretched his aching limbs. Some kind soul had left him a bucket of water; he dipped his finger in, snatching it out in shock at the burning cold. There was nothing for it, though. With a grimace at the impending discomfort, he slapped a bit at his unruly hair, pulled his jacket straight, plunged both hands into the water, and vigorously scrubbed his face.
Dawn had long since broken, but the sun was hidden by roiling clouds; ominous auroras flickered across the sky and the wind blew dry and cold. The camp was bustling; stern, angry warriors, amusingly colorful in their armor and paints, carried supplies or polished weapons or drilled on the distant slopes. Twenty rows of shelters, eight men to a unit, ranged in a ragged line along the side of a desolate hill.... thousands of warriors had dug in here, all waiting for an unspecified sign from some unspecified threat. Whatever it was, thought the Doctor, it looked as though they were ready to meet it without any help from him.
And if not for the thirty-foot chain firmly staked to the tent's main support, he could have been miles away by now.
Really, it eroded one's faith in human nature. Or whatever species these people were.
He'd be through the stake in another three hours, thanks to the sharp edge of the manacle on his left ankle. Ben and Polly must be frantic by now -- oh, and Jamie too; but the lad was a trooper, from what the Doctor had seen. He could only hope that they hadn't wandered off by the time he got back to the TARDIS.
Shouts and the thunderous sounds of a returning cavalcade attracted his attention. The giant bird-like mounts swarmed over the hill, their riders armored in silver and sky-blue.
A flash of red caught the Doctor's attention. Among the riders, just too far away for identification, a humanoid figure was draped like a sack across one creature's saddle. The troop had brought home a prisoner.
The Doctor frowned in disquiet. They'd probably bunk the prisoner with him, which was just as well, as it was probably one of his friends; but he'd have to hide the scraps of loose wood around the stake. And his senses had been tingling all morning, as though there was something on the edge of his mind that he really ought to know.
Several miles away, in the red-and-bronze camp of the blue riders' mortal foes, another Doctor scratched his unruly hair and hoped Jamie and Victoria had landed somewhere safe.
The Doctor crawled out of the rude tent, emitted a gaping yawn, and stretched his aching limbs. Some kind soul had left him a bucket of water; he dipped his finger in, snatching it out in shock at the burning cold. There was nothing for it, though. With a grimace at the impending discomfort, he slapped a bit at his unruly hair, pulled his jacket straight, plunged both hands into the water, and vigorously scrubbed his face.
Dawn had long since broken, but the sun was hidden by roiling clouds; ominous auroras flickered across the sky and the wind blew dry and cold. The camp was bustling; stern, angry warriors, amusingly colorful in their armor and paints, carried supplies or polished weapons or drilled on the distant slopes. Twenty rows of shelters, eight men to a unit, ranged in a ragged line along the side of a desolate hill.... thousands of warriors had dug in here, all waiting for an unspecified sign from some unspecified threat. Whatever it was, thought the Doctor, it looked as though they were ready to meet it without any help from him.
And if not for the thirty-foot chain firmly staked to the tent's main support, he could have been miles away by now.
Really, it eroded one's faith in human nature. Or whatever species these people were.
He'd be through the stake in another three hours, thanks to the sharp edge of the manacle on his left ankle. Ben and Polly must be frantic by now -- oh, and Jamie too; but the lad was a trooper, from what the Doctor had seen. He could only hope that they hadn't wandered off by the time he got back to the TARDIS.
Shouts and the thunderous sounds of a returning cavalcade attracted his attention. The giant bird-like mounts swarmed over the hill, their riders armored in silver and sky-blue.
A flash of red caught the Doctor's attention. Among the riders, just too far away for identification, a humanoid figure was draped like a sack across one creature's saddle. The troop had brought home a prisoner.
The Doctor frowned in disquiet. They'd probably bunk the prisoner with him, which was just as well, as it was probably one of his friends; but he'd have to hide the scraps of loose wood around the stake. And his senses had been tingling all morning, as though there was something on the edge of his mind that he really ought to know.
Several miles away, in the red-and-bronze camp of the blue riders' mortal foes, another Doctor scratched his unruly hair and hoped Jamie and Victoria had landed somewhere safe.