The small boy halted suddenly, out of breath, sweat breaking out of his brow. His arms fell to his knees and his eyes closed briefly, panting, listening- always listening. The world's rotation had stopped momentarily and as he attended to the slow, steady drumming coming from behind. But not just from behind. The drumming had coaxed his heart, just one, and seized him. It took a hold of him from within, beating endlessly behind his ears, talking to him; singing. His overcoat had been ripped and shredded and the cuffs of his trousers stained with dried blood.

Around him the world was melting. The orange skies seeped blood onto the silver trees as an army of metal and noise blocked the sun. For months the humble planet of Galifray had been haunted with death and guns, always shooting, always shouting. For a time the hills were the safest place to be, both from the Time Lords and the…others. The young boy looked to the sky and saw birds of metal that marched in lines and scorched the ground with their lasers. Four or five times a day they would march, and the Lords and Ladies would die defending the old, failing city. Four or five times a day he would count the soldiers fly up in their machines only to fall back down again, four or five minutes later. Sometimes the square birds fell with them, crashing and fighting the whole way down. And sometimes the birds fell all on their own, but not often.

The youth had just made it to the tree line of the Honiran forest where he could rest in the grooves of the Mali trees that framed the city. From his dwellings it was a good 20 minute run to the safety of the forest. As a younger lad he used to race his big brother there and back, every day. He knew all the secret tunnels and hidden paths like the back of hand, gleaming and laughing every time he passed his brother along Allonsy Way. The greatest times in his life were along that street. How sad it was that the last time he'd ever run here would be his last.

His mother and father were still in the city though. They were still soldiers. He watched them from the corner of his room as they panicked and packed the boys things into a small brief case, arguing over the importance of socks and underwear over food. The boy opened his mouth and suggested "lollies" instead. The two adults merely stopped and gave him a stern look. Poor thing doesn't know, thought his mother, about what's about to happen to him.

The boy sat in the silver shadows and opened his brief case and watched three pieces of toffee fall out onto his lap. He took an end of a wrapper in his mouth and unravelled it with his free hand. Hazelnut. He loved hazelnut.

Back at the house all his things were packed, boots strapped on tight, and the young boy waited at the door. His father emerged from one of the rooms and kneeled down in front of him. He stared directly into his fathers eyes, mesmerized by the colourful vortex he could see within them. The time vortex. The father grabbed to boys head and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. He stood perfectly still as he felt a cold rod being placed into his small hands. It didn't feel heavy or significant but by look the in his father's eyes he could tell it was of great importance. He dismissed it for the time being and shoved it into his back pocket where he felt it would be secure. His brother, Namien, soon came around the corner carrying a suitcase similar to his own, with his spare hand holding their mother's. Her eyes were red and black and he knew she had been crying. Namien quickly took his place beside the boys side as their mother looked at them both, summing them up. She nodded, took them both in her arms, and kissed them. Then she was gone… they both were. Chasing the shadows.

The two brothers had made it half way, after winding through all the nooks and crannies or the city, until the clearing before the forest was in sight. Their father had told them to stick to the walls, never go out into the open unless absolutely necessary, but the boys didn't know why. Namien was a few years older, stronger and faster. He had taken the lead now, swinging his suit case around behind him, looking back every now and then to see if his younger brother was keeping up.

A few steps into the grassy clearing was all it took for the metal birds to see them. They were only children, but from up there everyone looks the same. Everyone looks like a Time Lord. The birds marched and thought in harmony, but it only took one to see them and act. The young boy was the first to see it, the point in the sky that skewed slightly to the left and made aim with his weapon. He ground his feet into the hard earth to stop himself from running, to get back to the walls of the city, just like they had been told. Namien hadn't seen it and kept on running, swinging his bag and laughing. The boy opened his mouth to call to him, but nothing more than a whimper escape as the flash of blue light stuck his brother like fierce lightening. A whirlwind and dirt and sonic debris filled the air and sucked the noise out of the day.

And that was it.

The boy was pinned to the ground with his hands over his head. His eyes were wide open but he saw nothing. His ears were uncovered but he could hear nothing. The stench of blood and chemicals was the only thing he knew, and it chilled him. His breathing awoke and he could feel the beating of his heart again as the dust settled. The pulse at the back of his neck returned but he remained still. If he moved then things would happen. If he gathered himself and got up, his brother would be gone, and the world would end.

But the sense of danger became too prominent. The pulse increased and the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. If the bird had seen him that meant they all saw him, which would result in a search for further extermination.

The boy's head became clearer as he pealed himself of the long grass. He kept his head down and stayed in a crouch- he wouldn't risk the temptation of looking for his brother. Once he was safe then he'd do something. But not now. He kept his chest as close to the ground as he could manage and scurried his way through the grass.

The boy was making ground until he came across some red, glossy grass, where he stopped instantly. His couldn't stop his hand from trembling as panic struck him, but he was engrossed by it- the stark contrast between the dull green and bright red. He couldn't help but follow the trail of blood into the small disturbed puncture in the hill.

Following. Following. Stop.

The boy cursed wildly at himself for going too far. He had come across a bloody pile of flesh and dirt with ripped nails and broken fingers. The boy's vision collapsed as his heart froze. But the trail continued. Just to the left was the rest of his brother. He could travel to the end of the universe and find nothing as sickening as this.

Nothing.

The boy's limbs had been severed on impact and scattered across the grass like bloody pieces of a puzzle. His hair was in knolls encircling his head and torso that had swelled and was encroached with blood and metal. The left side of his skull had caved in after taking the full impact of the shot, and was exposing the pink and red rot that was already the feast of many Galifreeian insects. He could see the bones so clearly, with the severed nerves dancing around in after shock. The boy hurled over at the sight and vomited into his lap. He looked over again. Namien, dissected and mutilated in a pool of blood and flesh, lay looking up with his desolate eyes, counting the coils.

The youth, now able to move again, managed to shift his weight to look at him. His eyes were filled with blue and green and orange dancing shapes much like his fathers. But it was different this time. It was inviting him, drawing him closer. He looked into the vortex with impossible ardent, transfixed as it spiralled left, right, left again. The boy could feel it beginning to twist its way inside him, coursing through him like a hot flame, igniting his blood. It hurt him, cut him, burnt him, but he didn't look away. He could feel every muscle cramp. Tight. Tighter. Tighter again. So tight until they ripped, all of them, tearing through the skin. The boy broke off the stare and screamed. He threw his hands to his head and crashed it to the ground. His began to see it as his head began to understand it.

The blood. So much blood.

He looked at his brother, in pieces resting on the grass, and screamed again. Tears filled his eyes and he screamed another howling cry. He crushed his head against the ground again, finding a small rock, crushing it there. Up and down, again and again, until it he felt his skull beginning to cave, until when it was no longer his brother's blood he could smell but his own.

Another scream and the world started trembling, shattering, and crashing down around him. More shots came from the air, devastating the hills he was hurting himself, coaxing the air with more dust and chemicals. He felt every crash as if it were him being hit. He felt the wind screaming, the skies crying and the world fading. He felt every single Lord and Lady praying as the lay dying. He felt the world spin… and it enraged him.

The boy finally began to feel the blood coming back to his hands and feet, giving him the mobility he needed to peel himself off the grassy clearing. He looked as his brother's indistinguishable corpse once more, and then made a sudden dash for the trees that he could see behind the water in his eyes.

It wasn't long until he had made it to the safety of the shadows and was able to rest. His head was throbbing and a clean ringing was sounding in his ear that screamed names into his head.

The boy ate two of his toffees, saving the last for later, and closed his eyes. When he did, however, he saw the orange and the blue of the vortex still dancing within his mind, burning into his eyes. He kept his eyes closed and studied it closely. He looked deep into the spiral, counting the colours, memorising the speed, keeping the rhythm. He searched deeper in his mind for a clue, a hint, about what it was. He passed the blues and the purples, making his way down. Brown, grey, black- all the way down until he was submerged into the white. The blissful, threatening, quiet white had filled his mind, keeping him paralysed. The boy searched the abyss hesitantly as he heard feet in the long grass shuffle towards him.

Then, just as the footsteps stopped in front of him, he saw a flash of something in his mind. A young girl with jet black hair and a white silk dress appeared in the foreground of his mind, skipping with her metal wings. The girl signalled to him, opened her mouth to speak, and whispered a word, one word, into the abyss. It made his world crumble.

A set of hands reached down, grabbed the boy by the collar and pinned him to the hard silver trunk, ending his mental games. The youth opened his eyes slowly and squinted as he looked at the large man. He was a solid man with big bright teeth that flashed as he talked. His weight channelled down into his feet which left a noticeable dent in the now soft earth as his makeshift army uniform gave away his identity. The dark grey cloak over the black uniform implied he was a general. General Jorok Haney, 12th regiment of the glorious Celestial Time Army. He told the boy with such pride.

Eventually he let him down, keeping one hand on his shoulder for balance. He slung the boys bag over his left shoulder and bent down to look him in the eyes.

"What's your name, son?"

The boy looked to the ground. The last toffee had fallen out of the suitcase and half unravelled as it hit the forest floor. He let his eye lids droop. He was so tired, so exhausted. The pain of his brother ate as his heart as the world kept its numbing rhythm. He moved his head up to the General, slowly, with little interest in his eyes and resentment in his voice.

"The Doctor.."

General Haney leaned back to study him for a moment, curious. He had only just realised the dry blood on his forehead. The boy looked at him directly for the first time, the Time Vortex burning in his eyes.

"And don't you fucking touch me."