The man stumbled over, his army-issue boots heavy with mud. He pulled his long woollen overcoat tighter, and breathed onto his hands, the snow now falling in lumps around where he crouched.

Then, an odd shrieking, perhaps from behind him. The man twitched, his eyes darting around the landscape. Again, that sound, getting closer, followed by a dull thud. The man was thrown flat onto the ground.

He grunted in pain. Damn them at the armoury, he thought. They're using live rounds instead. Slowly, a sense of warmth came to him, just within the right shoulder. He reached and gingerly felt for the wound. It had only grazed him, but there was blood.

'Ach, you are hit', the mocking voice echoed from the tannoy.

Spotting a rough hedge to his left, the man rolled across and wriggled within the branches. 'Tis but a scratch, he muttered.

From his hide, he peered out across the ice-white forest. Nothing obvious in this weather, he noticed. Except… something very odd, apparently appearing from thin air. He could make out, seemingly, a large blue doorway with the words "Police Box" lit up above it. Impossible, surely?

A crazy sense of recklessness suddenly overcame the man. He dived out of the hedge, and was soon running toward the apparition. Hearing the barrage of gunfire erupt to pursue him, he began to dart left and right, trying to distract the snipers.

'Yes! Another super goal from Pond of Scotland!'

Amy reached across, and added one to her tally. She looked up and smiled, almost infuriatingly.

'What's the score now, Doctor?'

The Doctor stood back, then leant on the edge of the table and frowned,

'Empirically, the score is 17-1 to you. But morally, it should be much closer.'

'Nonsense,' retorted Amy. 'I'm not letting you play like you did. Spinning the players is cheating.'

'Well, if we were using Time Lord rules…'

'Pah, that has no skill at all. That's the only reason you've even got a goal, from cheating.'

'This is my table, so it should be my rules.'

'Oh, guest's privilege, surely?' Amy pouted. 'Anyway, since when have aliens liked table football?'

The Doctor shrugged his tweed-clad shoulders,

'It shouldn't be that surprising, Pond. Table football is actually my second-favourite sport.'

'And the first?'

The Doctor smiled and clapped his hands.

'It would be cricket, of course. Haven't played for some time though. A good few centuries, I guess. I miss the clothes for it too: nice white wool jumper, pinstriped flannels, comfy cricket shoes, maybe a good blazer as well…'

Amy clicked her fingers to distract him,

'Hey, Doctor, bit late for a change of costume, isn't it?'

'Sorry, you're right.'

The Doctor turned and walked out of the room, back toward the main console area.

'Come on then, enough playtime for now.'

Amy followed him, nudging him playfully as they walked,

'Maybe later for another game? Then I can give you another…'

The sentence remained unfinished, because the Doctor had suddenly hurtled down the stairs toward the door.

'Quickly, Amy, come here!' he shouted.

Amy dashed to the Doctor's side, and gasped at what she saw. Sprawled at the doorway, his back riddled with bullet holes, was a man. He was dressed in a green wool overcoat and black boots, and had cropped brown hair. Amy watched as the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and waved it over the wounds. The Doctor studied the readings, then closed it, tucking it away inside his jacket.

'So, what the hell happened, Doctor?'

The Doctor didn't answer, but glanced up at the open door, and examined the snowy scene outside. His eyes widened and he mouthed something silently. Then he jumped back and raced to the controls, frantically pressing buttons and flicking switches. He pulled the monitor down, read the data displayed, then looked across at Amy.

'We need to get out of here really very quickly. Shut the door, come here, sit down, then hold tight.'

'Hey! What about this guy? He's seriously injured. We need to help him - you must help him!'

'No, Amy, no, not at the moment! In fact, there are far more pressing matters to deal with.'

'More pressing than a dying man?'

The Doctor ran back to Amy, grabbed her by the arm, and said quietly,

'Yes, most definitely. Unless you want to end up like him.'

'What…' Amy began.

The Doctor began to lead her back to the console. Then, she looked outside, and gasped,

'What?'

Amy dived back, slammed the door, then rolled aside as a flurry of bullets began peppering the Tardis.

'What?' she screamed, scrabbling for cover behind a metal box.

The Doctor also found himself diving for cover. He leapt over the railings and ducked underneath the time rotor.

'Stop blowing holes in my ship!' he yelled.

Without warning, there was a heavy bang, and the Tardis began to shake violently. The Doctor realised what was going to happen.

'Grab on to something, Amy!' he called, lying flat and bracing himself against a tangle of wires.

'Why? What's happening?' Amy shouted back, her eyes wide in terror.

'We're going to be tipped over,' the Doctor answered.

The Tardis gave a huge lurch, then a groan, before starting to steadily pitch sideways.

'Here we go!' yelled the Doctor.

Amy screamed, as the doors exploded inwards. Then, silence.