Ok, here it goes, this is a second shot at this.
I started this story almost a year ago, and failed miserably. It was my first fanfic, I got flamed quite a bit, lost hope and deleted the story. Since then, I'd like to think I've improved, and I at least have the concept of what a mary-sue is now. I've always wanted to write for this fandom, but never quite plucked up the courage since the last disaster. But here I am, time to have a crack at it.
Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it's not mine.
Prologue
The mist that had covered the hill sides for days was refusing to shift, the tops of the mountains hidden beneath high banks of cloud. In the autumn and winter months, the highlands could be a bleak and cold place for the unwary traveller, or overambitious hiker. The weather could turn on the best of days, leaving hillwalkers hopelessly lost, often falling to their deaths over hidden cliffs. And when the snow arrived, roads could be closed, cutting of the roots to the larger towns and cities. With the freezing wind that was howling down the glen on that night, the snow couldn't be far off.
It was in this weather that Padruig Driscol fought his way back down the hillside, towards the light that was his house. The old crofter had lived there his whole life, as had his father and his father's father. His family had once owned land higher up the glen, but had been moved further down during the highland clearances. The land they had lived on since was only suitable for sheep, and so that was how Padruig made his living.
He'd been up the hill, checking his sheep that very night when the rain had started, thick sheets of it pummeling his face and torso. He staggered, trying to stay upright in the howling wind, using the old dry-stone dyke for support. His sheepdog, Mitch, ran before him, body lowered to the ground. He started barking suddenly, before launching into the mist, snarling. Padruig called for him, but his voice was lost on the wind. He heard a faint yelp, before the barking stopped, and there was nothing.
And something moved in the darkness, to large to be the crofter's sheepdog. It was there for a moment, before disappearing again as quickly as it had came. Padruig stopped in his tracks, heart pounding in his chest. He whipped around, catching sight of a figure behind him before it was lost in the mist. Panicked, cold and alone, he fled, stumbling over rocks. He could hear the snarling of the creature over the howl of the wind, the sound of heavy footsteps behind him.
The gate of the field loomed before him, and his frozen fingers struggled to open the latch. A great shadow loomed over him, and with a sickening scream, Padruig Driscol was dragged into the night.
The Doctor sat with his feet up on the console of the TARDIS, eyes shut. The the casual observer, the time-traveller looked to be asleep, but the Doctor hadn't slept in years. There was no need for it, and it was incredibly boring. Why sleep when there were places to see and trouble to be made?
The TARDIS gave a bleep, and he cracked open one eye, looking at the screen. He was floating somewhere in the 13th century, and a small light was flashing at him. He popped his glasses on the end of his nose, leaning in.
"What have we got here then?" he asked the TARDIS, reading the signs quickly, "someone's jumping through space and time at quite a rate. Not even stopping for some fish 'n chips!"
The TARDIS gave an answering bleep that the Doctor seemed to understand, and he cracked boyish grin.
"Settled have they?" he hurriedly began turning dials on the console, "Lets go have a nose!"
With a great rumble, the TARDIS spun into action.
The next chapter will be much longer, I promise. This is just a prologue, and I wanted to go for the same sort of length as the newWho novels.
Anyways, hope it intrigued you all, please review and tell me what you think!! :)
p.s This fic is set in Scotland, so I warn you now, it will contain Gaelic names, Scottish words and other general stuff from the country :)
Padruig is a Scottish Gaelic variation of Patrick