Not that it made any difference weather her eyes were open or not, the room was so full of dust that is was near impossible to see anything… but the fact that her eyes were now open at least proved to her that she wasn’t dead, something which she found grimly comforting.
From somewhere within the thick, waxy cloud of dust, a small voice made a small sound that sounded…
‘Oh,’ said the voice. It sounded very familiar.
‘Fyffe!?’ she chocked. There was no response of the child from within the powdery environment, so she fought for control over her breathing, and pulled herself up, feeling her way along to where she remembered the window to be.
It came as a bit of a shock to find that there was no window.
It came as even more of a shock to find that it had been replaced by a hole in the wall.
It came as an even larger and more horrifying shock to find that there was in fact no wall at all.
'Oh, wow,’ she said glumly.
Even as she stared, the layers of heavy dust pored out of the hole like an extremely dirty waterfall, and the room behind her began to clear. Almost fearful of what she would see,
Half the room was gone. If she had had a clear head at this point,
Then she realized what she had been staring at for the last three minutes, as standing in front of the rubble and gazing serenely at the disarray of bricks, was Fyffe.
‘The moth’s dead,’ Fyffe said despondently.
Fyffe turned around slowly. ‘The moth,’ she said carefully, ‘is dead.’
Fyffe turned and let out another small noise of surprise.
‘Oh!’ she said.
Fyffe straightened up and turned back to
‘But… it’s only a stick,’ she said gently.
‘He should have it with him,’ Fyffe murmured to herself.
Fyffe turned away and walked towards the still locked door. The giant hole in the wall had ensured that all of the smoke had cleared, but unfortunately, the only thing that it led to was a large drop to the far away street below. Despite their survival of the explosion, they were still trapped in the room. Under
Fyffe pushed gently against the door, almost as if she was testing it. ‘He will need it,’ she said, ‘he can do without I suppose,’ she twirled the twig between her fingers and looked thoughtfully at the door. ‘We probably need it more,’ she said after a while.
‘He didn’t vanish,’ said Fyffe. She twisted her head around and glanced at
Fyffe let her hand slowly slip off the woodwork.
‘I feel bad for the moth,’ said Fyffe, glancing back at the misshapen pile of rubble.
Fyffe turned around slowly and gave
‘I know there is, Fyffe!’
Fyffe cocked her head to one side. ‘He probably just used the spatio-temporal mass converter to firstly change the molecular structure of the components atoms, and then of his bodies own atomic configuration so that they could shift through impermeable matter,’ she said.
‘It doesn’t explain the explosion,’ said Fyffe, ‘but if he were dead, it would feel different… there’s no sorrow, no feeling of remorse of grief. I like to trust my impulses, which is why there must be a perfectly good explanation for everything… Maybe his distorted composition meant that the emission of the discharge passed through his permeable state, rather that rebounding off the usual impervious one.’
Without warning, Fyffe thrust the twig into the keyhole of the door and began to twist her arm sharply. She flashed
‘What what?’ said Fyffe, her attention focused on the twig.
Madison was about to open her mouth and say ‘what’ again, when something deep inside of her sent up a rapid volley of warning sparks and she took two sharp steps towards the girl. ‘Don’t, what ever you do, start that off again!’ she said.
Fyffe shrugged but didn’t turn around.
‘Do you honestly think that you’re going to open the door with– ?’
There was a sudden sharp click that filled the room with an irritatingly smug noise.
Then a silence followed.
Very slowly, Fyffe pulled the stick from the key hole and gave the door a tentative push.
Very slowly, the door swung open, accompanied by a faint creaking noise, which sounded to
Fyffe leaned casually out of the door and glanced around at the deserted hallway beyond. It was hauntingly empty, which made perfect sense considering the building had just been savagely bombed. Within the long stretch of the dim and hollow corridor, Fyffe’s small blond head shimmered as she twisted it left and right, then, coming to a final decision, she stepped out of the room and grinned.
The girl took no notice and bounced slightly on her feet as she considered what to do next.
‘This way,’ she said, before turning smartly to her right and disappearing from
There was a moment’s pause as
Within the room,
‘What are you doing?’
Fyffe raised her arm and pointed to the left, ‘going,’ she explained.
Fyffe looked in the direction she was pointing and lowered her arm. ‘Maybe,’ she said, and tucked the twig behind her ear.
‘Okay, well just don’t move for now, got it?’ said
Fyffe blinked. ‘Did I?’
A wide smile spread across the girls face. ‘That’s right, I did,’ she said triumphantly, ‘and now we go and do whatever we have to do to make things good again.’ It sounded so simple when she said it.
A small problem arose when, steeping into the hallway, she found it was completely devoid of anything that even remotely resembled a manically happy girl. In fact, it was completely devoid of anything at all.
‘Fyffe?’ she called cautiously.
There was no response, and
Within the empty city streets, a small cluster of blackened figures stalked along the winding roads. There was nothing tense or fearful about their movements, almost as if they didn’t understand the meaning of the word, instead they moved with a calm grace and perfectly calculated prowess.
There was nothing that they feared within the broken and ruined city walls… they were the hunters that were poised to strike. Whatever they were searching for, it would be found. But, for all their unflinching presence, they were unaware that they were being watched.
From a safe distance behind their footsteps, Fyffe crouched behind a blackened crate and watched as their forms steadily moved away. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ears, her mouth twisted in a calculating expression, and her crackling blue eyes held something deep and calculating.
Over half a mile below her, the sewers of the city sulked and crept in their sluggish movements. They were the first thing that had been built when Tendra has been founded and as a result, they were the most well built thing of the city, meaning that on one ever went down there.
On a small ledge that was squashed into the curve of the sewer wall, the Doctor lay unconscious. His left arm was thrust outwards and dangled off the edge of the ledge, and his face was contorted into a strained expression. The fingers of his right hand rested lightly on his stomach and were clenched together as they gripped onto a strange oval shaped lump.