They called it a festival of the fall.
It was a time where the leaves in the forest went from a rich palette of greens to a rainbow of autumn just before they came tumbling to the ground. The Doctor had smiled when Clara dismissed it, likening it to the coming of winter back home on Earth, but he'd insisted – this would be different. She'd smirked, eyes narrowed as she pondered what difference there could be and of course, of course he hadn't told her. He wanted to see the look of wonder turn her cheeks rosy; he wanted to see the inflation of those eyes as they took it all in; he wanted to know if she'd dance.
The Doctor imagined she'd dance.
With necks adorned in welcoming lei's made from the fading pastel petals of dying alien flowers; with bodies marked by celebratory splashes of white dust over the furs of alien animals; with an exchange of drinks finally brewed out of barrels held underground all year... they emerged into the forest with the people of the village. Visitors, invited into the ceremony as harbingers of good fortune, for any visitor to the planet during festival of the fall were seen as promising omens of a safe winter.
Chants and whistles echoed out and the Doctor watched Clara as her smile widened and she laughed with the children who circled her. They called her a goddess of fertility; they called him a god of strength, and he chuckled with her as small hands fluttered along their midsections, around their bodies, and then scurried out into the forest. And then they went silent with one last stomp of their feet, with one last grunt from their lips, one last clap of their hands.
She didn't dare ask him what followed. Clara knew not to ask, but to observe, and she looked up as the people raised their gaze to skies barely visible through the leaves hanging limp to their trees. He counted the pulses at her neck and could see she'd held her breath in anticipation for what was to come and he sighed at her beauty when it began. The way her eyes sparkled with the hint of tears and the way her cheeks lifted as her lips parted into a magnificent smile.
Above them, all at once, the leaves crackled as they split from their trunks. It was as if the forest cheered the oncoming winter and the people around them took that as a good sign as well, clasping their hands and nodding their heads – for they did not make a sound. The only whispers in the forest were the winds, and the gentle wisps of those leaves beginning their gradual descent towards the ground. He could see them fluttering on his peripheral – their weight so little and the gravity through which they carved their path just light enough to make it seem as if someone had slowed time – but his companion before him was far more fascinating.
Mouth opening to gasp, she remained silent, arms lifting slightly as she offered the sight a soundless laugh. As though she were standing within a rainstorm, her eyes closed just as the leaves began to pepper her with their kisses and he could see the deep breath she took, inhaling the scent of leaves and that faint aroma of dirt they often carried. The people around her huddled together to worship the sight, their eyes slowly finding the Doctor as he stood in adoration of his companion.
Their actions, he knew, taken as signs.
He smiled as he finally shifted from his spot, working his way towards the woman who still stood in the fall of the leaves, enjoying the tickle of their edges against her face and hands. The Doctor reached for her, trailing his fingertips along hers, watching them curl into his on instinct, before he stood before her, hand coming up to brush his knuckles to her cheek as she opened her eyes. Her arms came down and she took his free hand, holding it warmly, thumb moving slowly against his skin.
"They're welcoming winter, Clara – a dangerous time for them. If the crops harvested weren't enough; if the animals they've hunted aren't enough, some might not survive the harshness of the cold bitter days that come now. It's a time for burrowing in their caves, for nurturing the elderly and the young, and for celebrating, or creating, new life that will join them in the spring and summer when they emerge. They believe we bless them – a man and a woman; one young and one old – and they bless us in return with the opportunity to participate."
"And now it's time for us to go," she said softly, calm smile resting on her lips.
The Doctor looked her over, seeing the peace in her eyes and knowing the world she returned to had its harshness, but it seldom offered her serenity, and he explained, "You would be invited to stay."
Brow crumpling, she shook her head, "And you?"
"No." He chuckled, "You would stay, if nothing held you to Earth?"
"No, Doctor," she scoffed, "But, why would I be invited to stay and you wouldn't."
"The youth is welcome to stay; the old is expected to depart – it's their way of life."
Clara leaned into his palm, reaching up to hold it firmly to her. He could feel the warmth radiating through him just before she inched forward, hands slipping away from him to hold him tightly. Enveloping her, he could sense the small sway of their bodies and he closed his eyes to lay his head atop hers wondering if she truly had the choice, could she take it. Companions had left Earth before; found new life before. He knew it was a future she deserved – a place where she could be cherished. He knew only one place she'd be cherished more, though he imagined she'd reject it. He held her tighter for that knowledge, breathing with her and knowing she was listening to the beats of his hearts and could sense his tranquility in that moment.
Only in her arms, he sighed with a smile.
"I could never leave you, Doctor," she uttered.
"One day, Clara," he began.
Her grip tightened, stopping his words. The Doctor looked to the matriarch of this tribe as she approached and he offered her a smile she returned with a small nod of her head. She seemed ancient, even to him, and he could see the village slowly gathering behind her, the children meandering in the piles of leaves now covering the forest floor. Turning towards her, he nudged Clara to look to the people who waiting for her to acknowledge them and when she did, it was with a small shake of her head to the old woman who looked to Clara with a knowing gleam in her eyes.
Quietly, she told her, "I would not ask you to stay, it has been obvious since you arrived that your heart had chosen your place long ago, and you are exactly where you belong."
The Doctor looked to the woman at his side who nodded slowly before asking, "Will you be alright for the winter?"
The matriarch offered a winning smile and a hearty giggle, then leaned forward to tell her, "Our bellies will be full of food, babies, and laughter; our hearts with love, promise, and determination." She tapped Clara on the hip playfully with her walking cane and looked her over approvingly. "Your future will hold many good fortunes, Clara, as will ours, don't you worry." She gestured, "It is time for you to return to your blue box with your Time Lord," she reached down to pluck up a red leaf, handing it to Clara, "For all your days, Clara, for they will be plenty."
Watching the matriarch pat Clara's hands, the Doctor smiled and when the older woman turned back to her people to begin the gathering of leaves, he shifted his companion back in the direction of the Tardis. The leaves would be bundled and taken into their caves to help start fires and build beds. Leaves, he sighed as he looked to Clara, still half wrapped around him, leaves would always bring him back to her. His Clara, he thought as he bent to peck an unexpected kiss into her hair; one she accepted with a smile as she continued to twirl the leaf she held as she turned her attention to the space ahead.
They walked in tandem, silently, through a forest as the sun set behind them. Listening to the insects of this planet chirp their song into the night, they stepped into the Tardis and made their way to the console. Looking at her on the other side, mind lost to some unspoken thought, the Doctor realized there'd been no one to save on this trip. There'd been no villainous plot, no dangerous trial, not so much as an angry word; there'd been merely a quiet they rarely found on their adventures.
The furs she wore had been discarded on a chair atop his, but Clara held her leaf at the edge of the console, the time rotor of which had gone red to match it. Toggling a switch before him, the Doctor watched her lips lift slightly every so often and he wished he could see the thoughts inspiring those tiny smiles. He waited until she finally raised her eyes to meet his gaze and he looked away when he realized she'd made him smile automatically.
Sliding a hand along the cool surface, Clara made her way to his side and she leaned into him and he wanted to tease her about their state of undress – the odd tan nighties fashioned from a cotton they grew in their fields – but she leaned into him and settled her leaf atop the console between them. Clara sighed and he knew she was thinking of her mum. Perhaps she'd been thinking of her this whole time. He looked to her as she licked her lips and wrapped her arms around him comfortably.
"What's on your mind?" He questioned curiously.
Clara sighed, "All of our days."