They were at war. The last great war, the last war they would ever fight in. The Time Lords fighting the Daleks, for their lives, and, according to the Lord President, the lives of everything else in the universe.
She could feel it tugging in her, the desire, the need to go back to Gallifrey however she could, as quickly as possible, right
now
But she can't, she promised Grandfather she would keep herself safe. Fighting in wars wasn't safe.
She could feel them dying, going off with little plings and screams of pain, and slowly, they stopped screaming in her mind, and the little plings ended, and there was nothing left. Grandfather was the last one left, and all of the other ones were dead.
They were all dead.
Plinged off into another world.
No more regenerating.
Only she and Grandfather and maybe Grandfather's friend Koschei.
But there was only Grandfather and her left.
Arkytior lay the flowers down at her late husband's grave before she walked away.