"Try and keep up, Rory." Amy said, walking along the dark street and brushing a strand of red hair out of her face. A few people pushed past Rory as he struggled to keep up with his wife.
"You know, there's a reason why everyone is running for cover." He said, finally arriving at her side. Sirens began to wail around them, and searchlights flickered on. Amy grinned.
"Yes, but how many people can say they've been in London during an air raid in World War Two?"
"Um, pretty much, everyone in this city."
Amy's grin dimmed. "Fair point. But it's still cool."
"You mean, dangerous?"
Amy sighed, "One day we will die, Rory, but it isn't today." She ducked down an alley; Rory paused then sighed and jogged after her.
"We really should-"
"Shh!" Amy said, cutting off Rory. "Did you hear that?"
"Ah, no. Hard to hear anything over the Germans bombing London!"
"Oh, stop it. Listen."
They were both quiet, but between the far away blasts and the sirens Rory heard nothing.
"It's over this way." Amy said, walking briskly away.
"Amy." Rory ran after her. She walked down several more seemingly random streets.
"It sounds like…" she paused to listen again, "Like a child."
Rory frowned and tried to listen harder, and caught a faint sound. They walked down a final alleyway into a neighborhood. A child was there, with a gas mask on.
"That's…frightening." Rory commented quietly. Amy frowned at him and walked towards the small boy.
"Are you alright?" she called. The boy didn't move, but replied,
"Are you my Mummy?"