Anna scowled and muttered curses at his back while pulling her own feet clear of the sucking mud. The cold, the wet, and gathering weariness were doing nothing for either his temper or hers. At least he seemed to know where he was going. It was so dark that she could barely make out the line of the hillside and the trees ahead. Looking about once more to try and get her bearings, she was first relieved, then immediately scared, to see a point of red light up in the sky ahead.
"Doctor."
Though still not convinced, she was calling him that for lack of any other name.
"Don't go all wobbly now, we'll be there soon."
"No," she said, swallowing her irritation. "Look."
He followed her pointing finger, and frowned.
"Hmm. An artificial flying object, on a planet where such things aren't invented for nearly a thousand years. And the natives have warned us to beware of Skypigs. The likely conclusion being...?"
"Don't patronise me."
They stood in silence and watched the flaring red light draw steadily closer. It was a flame, a flickering, gusting red flame that illuminated the strange objects above and below. Above was visible the slow curve of a great cigar-shaped grey mass, below, much smaller, a bulbous, crouched black figure, clearly metal, glinting in the firelight, but looking for all the world like some fat, hideous, malevolent creature, its spite focussed upon them as it glided forward through the wind and rain. At its front, something that could have been a mouth gaped open to reveal a hellish interior of livid fire. It spat, and the Doctor and Anna crouched instinctively away from the searing ball of hot gas that hurtled over their heads and incinerated a twenty foot circle of sodden grass in a storm of heat, smoke and sparks. The Doctor straightened and stared at the Skypig as it hurtled over them and on, towards the fort. The flame Anna had first sighted illuminated the hole in the underside of the cigar shape directly above, and the steel cables which held the pig in place below.
"An airship?" the Doctor exclaimed. "And fuelled by hot air? Ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous or not, it was a few yards away from burning the both of us to charcoal."
"True. And now it's heading for the fort."
"Er..." Anna felt a sting of alarm in her belly. "Actually, it's turning round."
It was true. The Skypig was leaning over to one side and starting a wide turning circle that would take it straight back to them.
"Ohhh... yes," said the Doctor slowly. "Looks like our friend was right, and they prefer to find their prey out in the open. Anna, you remember that idea you had earlier?"
Transfixed by the sight of the demonic machine of black metal and fire rounding on them, Anna wrinkled her brow and tried to remember.
"All I said was we should run a... oh."
She turned and sprinted off after the Doctor, who was already disappearing at high speed towards the trees.
--------------------
Jeff had succeeded in removing one of the panels from the base of the Tardis console and was lying on his back poking about fascinatedly in the inconceivable complexities of the machine's innards when two soaked, muddy people came crashing in through the doors, and closed them hastily against the rainstorm outside.
"Jeff, what have I told you about messing with the Tardis' circuits?" came an authoritative voice.
"Sorry, Doctor." He slid guiltily clear of the console. "I was just... who are you?"
The face looming disapprovingly over him was that of a total stranger. Perplexed, Jeff threw a questioning look at Anna, who spread her arms irritably and squelched off in the direction of her quarters.
"Some years ago," the newcomer said, "You used to know me as 'Doctor'. As I recall, I used to be indulgent towards your aggravating habits such as attempting to dismantle machinery a million years in advance of your understanding. I can assure you that I am now an altogether unkinder, ungentler individual."
Jeff rolled over and climbed to his feet. He was a young, shortish man whose rounded, boyish face seemed scarcely capable of supporting his soft, neatly trimmed moustache. Behind steel-rimmed spectacles his dark, lively eyes inspected this strange person with fresh interest.
"Is it really you? Have you regenerated?"
"No, no," said the Doctor, turning and heading for one of the storage lockers. "Well, yes, but... Oh, let's just stick to yes, we've got work to do."
"This is fascinating!" Jeff exclaimed excitedly, following him like a shadow. "I always hoped I'd get to see this. What's it like?"
He experimentally poked the flesh of the Doctor's cheek with his fingertip. The Doctor slapped his hand away.
"Stop that."
He yanked the closet open and plunged in, dragging boxes and clutter aside and half disappearing from view behind a chaotic medley of fishing rods, garden ornaments, wineracks, oil paintings, giant china vases, umbrellas, a canoe, and countless other pieces of mismatched bricabrac. Jeff leaned to one side to evade the flying Mr Punch puppet hurled over the Doctor's shoulder.
"Er, can I help?"
This time he wasn't quick enough to dodge, but managed to catch the two foot long model train before it smacked him in the face.
"No," came the Doctor's voice, "But you can get your coat. While you're there, bang on Anna's door and tell her to hurry up with whatever she's doing and join us back here... aha!"
Triumphantly he pulled back and dragged free from the other junk a savagely barbed six-foot long nineteenth century whaling harpoon, its heavy rope looped over his shoulder.
"Good God!" exclaimed Jeff. "Where are we going?"
The Doctor tested the implement's rusted, razor-sharp spike with his fingertip.
"Pig hunting."