A/N: Merry Christmas, my dears. I hope everyone watched the Christmas special. Pure wonder, but, as a good DW episode should, it left teasing hints of what's to come. Bring on the new season!

In the meantime, here's a dose of the story. I wrapped it pretty and everything. I hope it's what you wanted...

There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.

~George Carlin, Brain Droppings, 1997

There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery.

~Joseph Conrad

I.

Because they were not in really in the wreck of her bedding in the TARDIS, because their bodies were not really lying tumbled and intertwined, because they were not really touching in any way other than the deep connection of her mind and his clinging to one another through their bond, it took only the flickering of desire to remove them from that place to the ruddy twilight of the Gallifreyan hillside.

Still in his arms, she opened her eyes and noticed the change as a breeze rustled the silver leaves softly. He was looking down at her intently and she had the feeling that he'd been doing so for awhile, something hungry and yearning in his eyes that barely managed to hide itself when hers met them, and he reached out to stroke an errant strand of hair from her forehead with just the tip of his finger. For a moment, she simply stared back at him, tuning in to the flow of emotions coming to her through the bond. There was a peacefulness like the waters of a broad river on a summer day, smooth and calm. That was his being with her here in this place again. There was, as his finger brushed her temple, incredibly considering everything they'd done to and had of each other, the static charge/tiger purr of lust. And then, there it was again as his gaze slipped away from hers, followed the path of his hand down to her neck, something acrid, something bitter and discordant, the scent of something scorching, burning...worry.

No. Don't go there, wherever that is. We have so little time before...before...

With effort, she pushed Irial, the Raven House, Dragons and High Lords, all of it from her mind. She smiled a little, just the faintest upturning of the corners of her lips. "Okay. So. You could get us from point A to point B. You could even manage to bring the blanket. But not one wee scrap of clothing for either of us? That part was too much trouble?"

He came back to her from wherever it was that his thoughts had been walking, and he sighed, something like his own little grin appearing. "Just never satisfied, are you, Pond? No matter what I do, you always want more... Take you to the TARDIS, magically transport you to another world, and do I get any thanks? Not a word. Right spoiled you've gotten..."

"Oi, I think you've just had ample proof that I can be satisfied, thank you very much. You just have to put a little effort into it, mister." She poked him lightly in the chest with her index finger to punctuate her statement.

She felt/heard the purr deepen, and he caught her wrist, speculatively eyed her mouth. "A little effort, you say, madam... Is that all you need?" He brought her captured hand up to his lips, giving her a courtly kiss to the back of her hand, then turned it over to nuzzle softly against the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, sliding his fingers around to lace through her own as his lips grazed her. "Are you so sure a ...little effort...will do, then?" His tone was musing, and as he spoke, he leaned down, close enough for her to feel the wash of his breath across her lips.

And he gently brushed his mouth against hers. Once. And he paused. Then he did it again, that same soft, undemanding press. Again. Then he sucked her bottom lip softly and a shiver shot through her. He released her fingers, and she slid her hands up his chest, looped her arms around his neck. Want. Want him. Want this. Again. So help me, again... She made a helpless little noise when he released her lip, opening her mouth, but he did not plunder, did not take. Instead, he pressed another of those gentle kisses to the corner of her mouth, another to her jaw, one to the pulse that suddenly raced just behind her ear. He smoothed the palm of one hand up her side slowly, softly, touch light, gentle, from hip to just below her breast. The thumb of that hand made delicate, maddening circles against the skin of there, and she could feel goosebumps rise, could feel her body tighten, could feel tension spiral even though he had not touched her breasts at all. She shifted, trying to find his mouth with her own, but she felt him smile as he avoided her efforts and worked his way unhurriedly down her neck, felt those unbearably delicate touches of his lips whisper over the place he usually marked with boldness.

He brought his mouth back to hers again, and now he gave her kisses, kisses designed to destroy, slow, purposeful, feeding her craving without ever satisfying it, every touch merely fuel for a fire that was already running dangerously hot. Her urgency did not seem to translate to him at all as she felt his tongue slip out to touch hers teasingly, disappear. He did not devour. He sipped, he tasted, he tantalized.

The tip of his index finger now trailed up her side to her collarbone and began a spiral inward to circle her peaked nipple without ever actually touching it, slow feather-light touches. She murmured and shifted against him, the fingers of one hand slipping into his hair. His husky voice rumbled at her ear. "Just a little effort, then, Pond? How is that working out for you? Alright? This really all you need from me?" She could feel humor mixed with pure wanting coming from him. He wasn't bothering to hide either response from her.

Winding me up, and so proud of it...I've had about enough of this...she thought, and she skimmed her hand down his body in one sudden, impatient motion, watched the humor evaporate from his eyes as she traced him, wrapped her hand around him. She enjoyed tremendously the little sound he made and the way his hips jerked.

"I stand corrected, Doctor," she whispered as her fingers began to move. "It appears I'm going to need you to put quite a lot more of yourself into this. Think you can...handle that?"

His eyes swept closed and fluttered back open on a wicked smile as he savored the sensation of her touch for a moment. "Oh, certainly, Ms. Pond. I assure you, it will be absolutely my pleasure."

And mine, too... she thought. And then she didn't think anything else for a long time.

II.

"It will be morning soon," he said, stroking his hand lightly up and down her back. The comforter was wrapped securely around them, and his eyes traced the stars in the one sky he could no longer see.

She made a little noise of frustration and denial and burrowed her face further into the curve of his neck. The corners of his lips turned up.

"No, Pond. It's no good. Time passes outside this place we make together. We can't stay here forever...tempting though it may be..." She felt his arms tighten slightly, wondered if he was aware of it.

And he wasn't the only one who wanted that safety, who was suddenly craving the affirmation of touch. Even though there was no sign of the passage of time here, she knew as well as he did that outside this place waiting for them was a very different reality. They'd gone the whole night long without talking about it. Now they would have to part soon, he back to the Dragon King's mountains, and she back to... She sat up, pushed her hair out of her face. "Right. Okay. What are we going to do about this, then? I suppose you have one of those brilliant schemes of yours up your sleeve?"

"While I take exception to the sarcasm I hear lurking about the dark corners of your voice there, I actually do have a plan. And it is absolutely imperative that you follow it to the letter, Amy, or Irial's going to know that you know, and you know that's not going to be good..."

"Why do I have the sudden sharp stabbing feeling that I'm not going to like this plan so very much?"

"Ah, well, about that. Probably. That is to say, yes. Neither of us, actually. Lots. Exponentially. But. Anyway. What you're going to have to do is sort of...play along with him a bit..."

Seeing her expression go from mistrustful to openly mutinous, he spread his fingers, fought down the beast howling inside him that wanted so badly to agree with her, and began to explain.

III.

As agreed with the Doctor, Amy resolved to put the strategy to work the next day, but Irial was nowhere to be found. He was not there when she went down to breakfast, nor could she find Aelfric. The other High Lords at the table simply told her that the two had urgent business that had taken for the day but that they should return the following evening.

Then they'd proceeded to watch her like sheepdogs with an especially dim or danger-prone flock of one.

If she'd so much as stirred toward a door toward the gardens, there'd been a High Lord clinging to her sleeve dancing attendance on her and proposing some form of entertainment. She wound up watching one of them play a musical instrument much like a harp, learned a variation on what she thought was basically a card game like one she knew back home when she was a child from another, and talked seriously with another about Earth poetry, something she was a bit embarrassed to say she didn't really know that much about. The final time she headed toward the great glass doors...

"If you need aught to amuse you, milady, Aelfric told me that you have not yet seen all of the grounds and gardens. It would be my great honor to serve as your guide, although I do not pretend to be as knowledgeable of the Raven House as Aelfric or the Raven Lord himself, of course."

The young blonde High Lord stood watching her with expectant eyes. She couldn't even remember his name.

No. I don't want to start up with another one. Maybe this is a chance to get a nap. She stifled a yawn. Apparently, doing what she'd been doing in her dreams lately didn't qualify as "rest," especially last night's efforts. Irial and Aelfric were gone. Where could they possibly be? Yes, she'd get a little rest and see if she could slip away from her watchdogs and explore inside a bit. Maybe she could find something to tell the Doctor when they met tonight. It was a sound plan. She declined the High Lord as politely as she knew how and went back upstairs to steal what sleep she could. She had a feeling it was going to be in short supply in the near future...

IV.

"So, then, Doctor, what will you do? Will you go or stay?"

The Doctor was slumped somewhat wearily on a great red cushion that had been provided for him drinking the ubiquitous and never-ending tea that seemed to be required for every meeting with the Dragon King. He was grateful for it today and had both hands wrapped tightly around the handleless porcelain cup to absorb the heat. After leaving the world of dreams, he'd gone back into the Ways in another attempt to see if he could track the High Lords, but to no avail. Now, the chill of the Ways seemed to have crept into his bones, a certain lingering coldness that would not dissipate no matter how near to the huge fireplace he sat.

Y'know, it's funny. Cold usually does not affect me much at all. There's something more than just temperature in that place. I think it's maybe more than the absolute mind-boggling wrongness of it all, more than the distortion of time and space. I think it's because those tunnels are laced with...with...what one might almost call an atmosphere of despair... How fanciful I'm becoming in my old age...

"Doctor?" The Dragon King's gentle question drew him from his reverie, and he looked up from the swirl of hot liquid in his cup.

"I...don't know. There are advantages to both positions. If I stay here, I can continue to explore the Ways, try to catch them as they pass. It will be helpful to know for sure how many there are and perhaps better in many ways to deal with them there. Also, even though I'm almost positive it's Irial, I need better proof. And to know if he's the master or merely a puppet. If I show my hand too soon..."

The Dragon King nodded but said nothing for a moment. He simply gazed at the Doctor and waited.

The Doctor sighed. "But..."

"But you fear for her."

The Doctor raised his head and looked at the Dragon King, one eyebrow raised. "I'm that obvious, am I? And here I thought my theater skills were fairly polished after all these years..."

Again that smile with too many teeth in it. "We are not so different in this aspect, Time Lord. If someone threatened my Mate..." His voice trailed off, and that elegant hand made a fist. It was immediately wreathed in a pale glow, the same glow that suddenly shining in his eyes, and there was the sense of something much, much larger in the room, of something almost too large for even this great cavernous space, of a form huge and serpentine, sinuous, graceful but infinitely powerful and dangerous, with great wings unfurled, almost like a vision seen in a desert mirage, shimmering for seconds only and then...gone. There was only the platinum-scaled King, mostly human-sized, perhaps somewhat taller, perhaps somehow slightly differently proportioned, perhaps with a great deal more dentition, considering his pattern of the dregs in the bottom of his teacup. He raised his eyes to the Doctor.

"We all have this in us when the one we have chosen, when the one who has chosen us, is in danger, Doctor. It is no mystery or surprise. I suppose we show what we really are at those times, perhaps..."

The Doctor nodded slowly, digesting both the philosophy and the biology lesson. "So the legends weren't legends at all, then."

The Dragon King laughed softly, flashing those many, many razor teeth. "Oh no. Not a bit of them. We choose to stay in this form for the most part because it's so much easier on the furniture." He picked up the delicate pot, poured another cup, settled back in seeming ease. "So what will you do?"

The Doctor thought about it. He thought about Amy, alone without him, only able to talk with him in the world of their shared dreams, at risk, if nothing else, of being chased by Irial for his own purposes even if they did not involve the Ways. He thought about the fact that she was going to try to discover the truth on her end, possibly putting herself in danger, and that she was never careful, that she could end up in trouble and he might not know in time to help her. He thought then of all that was at stake, the potential rise of the High Lord's Empire, the danger to his own bonded Mate from the shadowy threat of Irial and her possible use as a pawn in the machinery of the Ways, the independence of untold numbers of planets, possibly including Earth, that would disappear if the High Lords regained control of the Master Hubs and Ways. He sighed. He could continue to save the many by staying here and by allowing Amelia to help, or he could race to her side, protect and preserve just her, tuck her up in his pocket and keep just her safe...

"Of course I'm staying. What else can I do?" And if anything should happen to her, if even the slightest distress should come to her... The wolf inside him bared sharp fangs in frustration.

The Dragon King lifted his cup in mute salute, and for a time, the only sounds either of them heard were the roaring fire and the voices of memory and obligation.

V.

Amy crept back toward the stairs praying that nobody would see her. Darkness engulfed the Raven House. There would be a full moon tonight, but it had only just begun to rise.

She'd risen after a long nap feeling refreshed, and had done some reconnoitering. Then had come dinner, that grand ordeal with her babysitters dancing around her. She'd escaped them with rather more ease than usual, and she'd noticed then that they'd all been a little distracted as though something important was about to happen. There were more High Lords than usual at the table that night, visitors she didn't know, and as she was shown back up to her room afterward, she continued to hear horses and carriages coming and going. Finally, a large group of them assembled outside and, after much laughing and merriment, they'd ridden away.

Amy decided that this was a perfect chance to get back to her exploration, and she quietly opened her bedroom door, peered down the empty hallway, and slipped out. Downstairs, she spent a brief interval looking into rooms, poking around in chambers with open doors, rummaging around in desks for clues to no avail. The rooms she most needed entry to had either been locked or occupied, and she quickly began to realize that not all the High Lords were gone after all.

She could hear several of them coming down the stairs, and she darted into a small day salon whose glass doors looked out onto the gardens. Trying to calm her racing breath, the pressed herself back into the darkness, praying she couldn't be seen. As far as she knew, nobody knew she was out of her room.

'Course, I don't know why it would be such a huge deal for me to be out of my room, but I just have a feeling that it would be. Especially since I sort of eluded blond ElfBoy Number 2 to do it...

The voices headed for the great front hall, and then faded altogether. She was just on the point of feeling safe when the sound of soft booted steps heading directly toward her location made her look frantically around for a new hiding place. The room offered no help. The furniture was all small and delicate, the draperies were all sheer and light. In a burst of inspiration, she headed quickly for leaded glass doors, fingers tracing down their diamond panes until they fumbled across the handles. She slipped outside, pushing the door almost closed again, and hastily scooted to one side of the door where she could peer in to see who was entering the room.

A moment later, she ducked back as light filled the chamber. One of the High Lords came in, opened a cabinet, and began to remove several large cases from within it. He laid the cases on a table and began to open them, obviously checking some sort of equipment contained inside and making small adjustments to whatever it was they held. Amy rolled her eyes.

Great. Can't you do that somewhere else? 'Cause I really need to get back inside now, please. Okay?

When it became obvious that whatever it was that he was doing was going to take some time, she sighed and turned to slide down the stone wall, sitting and staring out at the increasingly moon-silvered gardens.

Y'know, if this place wasn't owned by the King of Creepy, it would almost be pretty sometimes, she mused, looking at the play of light on the fountains, on the neatly-raked gravel paths, and on the leaves of the plants. Off to her left, something twinkled out of the corner of her eye, and she turned her head against the stone wall behind her to look at it.

What was that? Fireflies? Here? I would think that it's too cold for...

Her eyes fixed on the two great raven statues at the entrance to the hedge maze. They seemed to have tiny sparkling lights all around them winking on and off, a thousand, thousand fireflies, a cloud of them surrounding them somehow. It was beautiful, and Amy wanted to be closer to it. No. Need to be closer to it. Much closer to it...

Without conscious thought, she rose from her hiding place and walked across the pale gravel toward the glowing sentinels...

VI.

Irial sat in the saddle, but he did not spur the Charger to follow the others. Instead, he was content to stay behind, letting the animal choose its own pace. His eyes scanned the sky, and he felt the moon singing through him, raising as it always did something wild, something strong inside him. He listened to the cries of the warriors with him, and the slightest of bitter smiles turned up the corners of his lips. The hounds gave cry, and the Hunt lustily responded as they charged in pursuit of their prey beneath the light of the inciting orb above.

And I should be there with my brothers. I should be at the front of the pack, should be leading the kill, should crave the feel of the hot blood on my hands...but it no longer brings me joy. Has not for many moons now. Oh, wildness still fills my soul, but the Hunt is not the release I crave...

His mind was filled with a sound that was the sound of a thousand rushing black wings, and the vision of tumbling red locks sliding through his fingers, of skin enticingly pale and eyes of green... This. This is the madness the Moon calls me to now... Ever sensitive, his Charger felt his hands tighten on the reigns and it blew a little, anxiously. He felt the presence of another, heard the soft fall of hooves on old leaves and moss, knew without turning that Aelfric had turned back to join him.

"You do not have to stay with me, brother. I know the moon calls you. Go. There is no duty you owe tonight. Be free. Hunt."

Aelfric's mount pulled even with his own as they ambled through a grove of ancient trees. Wind moved the upper canopy, and the moonlight fell in shifting pools of silver across them.

"Does not even the moon call to you anymore, Irial? Does nothing now bring you happiness?"

Irial remained silent, but in his heart...

"You cannot keep her, brother. You will destroy yourself." Aelfric sounded sad, as though he was speaking of one already dead.

But you don't know that I already have held her, have danced with her, have tasted the sweetness of her lips! I will find a way. There must be a way. I have done what they said could not be done; I have reopened the Ways! I have reclaimed that which was lost in the Raven House! Surely...surely...

Irial shifted in his saddle as they cleared the trees, looked full at Aelfric. The full light on him felt like pure energy being poured into him, and at that moment with the most basic of elemental forces driving him, he suddenly found it hard to believe he could ever fail at anything.

"Aelfric..." The horn of the HuntMaster suddenly sounded in the distance, followed by the primal scream of the cornered prey. It was a sound of defiance, agony, and terror. It shattered the night and then was cut off abruptly. The two Rishellians sat for a moment as though somehow tasting the sound. Anything that Irial might have been going to say before it was gone. There was now no mood for confession in the moon-drenched air. Irial gathered his reins and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "It is a fine night. Come. I believe our brothers have run the first of tonight's prey to ground. Let us go and prepare the next for release."

Aelfric nodded, and they turned their horses toward the camp where the cages holding those to be hunted, unlucky servants and peasants who would soon be running from their life from the Great Hunt, who now quaked in fear beneath the impassive moon.

So what do YOU think happens next? Review, please...