Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [26]
‘What is that thing?’ hissed Martha, terrified.
Saul, as stoic and controlled as ever, shook his head in disbelief.
Martha and Saul edged backwards, still watching the beast intently. One of its wings powered into the soil and leaves at their feet, but they jumped out the way easily. A warning shot.
‘I’ve never encountered one this close to the village,’ said Saul under his breath. He was clearly shocked by what he saw.
The beast rocked its head backwards, its circle of eyes now looking upwards, and let forth another reverberating cry.
‘Come on,’ said Saul, grabbing Martha by the arm. ‘The forest is thicker over here. It won’t be able to follow us.’
They plunged headlong into a grove of overlapping trees. Even the space between trunks and criss-crossing branches, it seemed, was filled with vines, creepers, brambles. It all became a blur as they ran, forcing their way through the dense vegetation. Martha was painfully aware of the knotted undergrowth that tugged at her feet and the sinuous woody stems that slapped into her face and arms. At one point she glanced down at her hands, exposed and unprotected, and saw that they were already red and raw.
But none of this mattered if it meant they were escaping from the creature. She could hear it thundering behind them, pressing its bulk against the wall of trees and brambles, crying out in frustration and defiance. Then, mercifully, after a time, the noises began to dwindle, and Martha and Saul slowed, moving the larger branches and trailing vines out of their way instead of just blundering into them. Eventually the trees began to thin, becoming, once more, larger and more majestic, until eventually they were back in a more familiar expanse of forest. Sunlight filtered through the canopy like great golden planks, seeming almost as solid as the trees that surrounded them.
Saul looked around, getting his bearings and sniffing the air, and then headed off. ‘We should speak with the Doctor,’ he said.
Martha nodded, folding her arms so that she didn’t have to look at her throbbing and tender hands. Just at the moment she couldn’t think of a single thing she wanted more than to see the Doctor again.
Word had gone around the school that morning that some travellers had been seen in the village. It was said they were staying at leader Petr’s house, and their purpose in the village had soon become the subject of playground gossip. One boy had suggested that they were professional monster-killers, and another speculated that they were here to investigate the children who had gone missing. Soon, however, even Jude’s friends had tired of this interruption to normal life in the village. The boys had wanted to playa rough sport of their own invention that seemed to involve ball-throwing and copious amounts of mud, but the girls were only interested in their own forfeit game of truth and kisses. Jude thought them equally pathetic and had been attracted to neither game – not when there were much more interesting things to occupy her mind.
After school, having unsuccessfully tried to accompany the female stranger and her father on a trip into the woods, Jude’s thoughts had turned to tracking down the other newcomer. On discovering that he wasn’t at the great hall or at uncle Petr’s house, she guessed – rightly – that the wise woman would be his next port of call. She hid outside the Dazai’s house, listening to their discussion and trying to follow as much of it as she could. Then, when the man – the Doctor, he called himself – had finished, Jude slipped out of the shadows and followed him.
The Doctor wandered through the village for some minutes, walking idly and taking a most circuitous route towards the lake. It was almost dark by the time he came to the water’s edge. He sighed, as if disappointed – perhaps he had arranged