Tegan and the Doctor had walked steadily for over an hour. She estimated that they had covered at least two kilometers. The trees had thinned out somewhat; the dense woods yielded to groves of maples and oaks, or something quite similar to them. The sparser trees permitted more sunlight in this area, and the leaves seemed quieter. She had not heard them rustling in some time.
Tegan's vague nausea had yielded to a gnawing hunger. As they walked along, she noticed some bushes with white berries growing in clusters among the deep green leaves. She paused to pluck a stem, admiring the sheen of the fruit before popping a berry into her mouth.
"Tegan!" the Doctor cried, turning around to witness her impromptu meal. "Spit that out!"
Tegan's brow wrinkled in confusion. She had just bitten into the berry, and succulent juice filled her mouth.
The Doctor was beside her in an instant, grabbing the berries from her hand. "Spit it out, now," he said firmly.
With a frown, Tegan leaned forward and expelled the contents of her mouth onto the grassy ground. She looked up at her companion with considerable perturbation. "Why did you make me do that?"
He held the berries up. "These may be poisonous."
"Oh come on, Doctor, they're delicious! The people here probably use them all the time—"
"We don't know that, do we? You can't go about sampling unknown flora on unfamiliar planets. It's not safe."
"But I'm starving!" Tegan blurted out. Her stomach growled loudly as if to confirm her statement.
The Doctor studied the berries for a few seconds. "Well, these appear to have toxic properties. They are likely in the magnoliophyta classification, which often contains glycoside, a rather nasty poison."
Tegan pressed a hand to her stomach. "Oh. I didn't know."
"Did you swallow any of the juice?" he asked, tossing the berries away.
She shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Good. The level of glycoside in a single berry would not be sufficient to harm you, but you would not enjoy the way it would make you feel—stomach cramps, vomiting, delirium—"
"I get the picture."
They continued walking quietly for a time. Tegan's stomach protested its emptiness again, and she said, "I don't suppose you have any jelly babies in your pocket?"
"Jelly babies?"
"Don't you remember? You always carried them before."
"Hmm. Yes, I do recall something of the sort. But no, I'm afraid that I left them in the coat I wore back then."
Tegan sighed.
"However," he continued, "I will try to find something for you to eat. At the very least, you should have some water. There must be a stream or a pond in the area."
They entered another grove, this once denser than the previous one. Tegan did not like the loss of sunlight that the heavier foliage caused. Suddenly she saw a brief movement to her left; something passed the edge of her line of vision. She stopped and whispered, "Doctor!"
"What is it?" he asked, pausing, too.
She turned slightly and pointed. "There's someone out there."
The Doctor peered into the trees. "Where?"
"Right there. Can't you see him?" The shadow had moved quite quickly. Now that she faced it, it flitted to the side. She blinked. "There!"
The Doctor focused his gaze, but he saw nothing. "Are you certain that you saw something?" he asked.
She nodded. The leaves had begun to move in the breeze again, and their murmuring grew louder. She had to concentrate to answer the Doctor's question. Finally, she said, "Yes."
He had turned to face her. His eyes were on her, not amid the trees where the intruder was. She shook her head and blinked again.
He leaned in toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she snapped, irked that his attention was directed at her, not at the danger so near by. "I'm fine, but what about that?" She pointed again toward the trees, but this time all appeared still. The movements had ceased, and the even the leaves had become quiet.
"Tegan," he said slowly, "there's nothing out there. I didn't see or hear anything."
"Well, I did!" She twisted away from his gaze. "There was someone out there. I saw something—I'm sure of it." She stalked away to stand with crossed arms near a large maple.
She heard the Doctor's feet brush against the tall grass as he approached her. "We should keep moving. Don't let your imagination get the best of you."
She whirled around. "It wasn't my imagination!"
With a small shake of his head, the Doctor said conciliatorialy, "We haven't time for this now. Come on."
Somewhat vexed, Tegan walked a few paces behind him. She had seen someone, or something, in the woods. She felt certain of it as the leaves began to stir overhead once again.
Turlough crouched among the tall grass and flowers in the meadow. Rundly was several feet to his right. He could hear the voices of the approaching Briars. Clearly they had no idea that a battle waited only minutes away. He wanted to stand, to shout out a warning, but Rundly watched him vigilantly, gripping his spear securely.
When the soldiers came into full view, Rundly stood with a sharp cry. The other men followed suit, dashing forward to attack the small group of Briars. As he passed Turlough, Rundly pressed a dagger into his hand. "Prove your loyalty to the king, or I'll use this on you," he growled, already lifting his spear.
Turlough stood immobile for several seconds, staring at the dagger in his hand. A scream brought him back to full awareness, and he looked up to see Rundly pinning a Briar to the ground, his spear driving through the man's chest. Each of Rundly's men was engaged with a Briar soldier, punching and kicking, wielding swords and daggers. Turlough saw blood on several men's faces; for a moment the scene was simply a reddish blur.
Then a Briar was moving toward him, slashing his sword from side to side. Turlough turned to run, but Rundly shouted, "Take him, boy! Take him, or I take you."
Turlough saw several of Rundly's men watching him. With some horror, he realized that most of the Briar soldiers lay injured or dead on the ground. Two or three still struggled with the king's men. One Briar managed to slash one of the king's soldiers across the chest; the man staggered and fell. Rundly shouted several invectives and lunged for the man who had hurt his comrade.
Turlough jumped back as the Briar soldier's sword swung at his midsection. He ducked to avoid a second attempt aimed at his neck. This time, however, he stumbled and landed on the ground. In an instant the man had pinned Turlough's chest with his heavily-booted foot. With both hands the Briar soldier lifted the sword.
Turlough was gasping for breath, and his heart raced furiously. He looked all around; surely Rundly or one of his men would intervene. But they did not. He still gripped the dagger in his hand. As the sword plunged downward, Turlough's arm shot up, and he cut the man deeply across the ankle.
His assailant cried out and looked down at the wound. Turlough managed to roll to the side, pushing the man's leg away with both hands. Immediately the soldier tackled him, falling across his shoulders and forcing him to the ground. As he fell, though, Turlough twisted to land on his back. The other man sprawled across his chest, and his sword landed on the ground with a soft thud. The soldier reached for his weapon with one hand and clawed at the Turlough's throat with the other.
Turlough lifted the dagger as his opponent managed to retrieve his sword. His grip on Turlough's neck tightened. The Trion could barely breathe, and his vision dimmed. He lifted the dagger, knowing that he could plunge it into the man's ribs with a single thrust. But he faltered. Hesitation and doubt caused his arm to flail ineffectually. He was choking, then. He saw through the growing darkness a glint of metal in the sunlight; the sword was descending on him. He ceased his struggles, determined at the final moment to find an instant of peace.
An agonized scream pierced the air, and the hand fell away from Turlough's throat. He gasped and drew several breaths as his vision cleared. The soldier lay across his chest with a sword jutting from his back. Rundly towered above, glowering as he pulled the sword from the Briar's back.
Turlough pushed the body away and rolled onto his knees, gulping air as he crawled away from the dead soldier. His hands were splayed on the ground; blood covered them. Frantically he swept them through the grass. His stomach lurched, and he retched. He heard the men guffaw.
After a minute, Rundly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him upright. "Come on," he said roughly, "that's enough. Next time you kill the damn Briar; I won't save you again."
Turlough wiped a hand across his mouth. "Please," he said weakly, "don't make me fight again."
Rundly reached out to clamp his fingers around Turlough's face. "Oh, you'll fight again, boy. There's no turning back now. You'll stay with us until we reach the Briars' main camp, and on the way you'll fight them or we'll fight you—and I think you know what the outcome of that would be." He released Turlough with a shove.
The Trion native stumbled back, fighting to keep his balance. Near his feet lay Rundly's injured colleague, who Turlough recognized as Gramond. Blood saturated his tunic, and his eyes showed intense pain and fear. He reached for Turlough, grabbing his ankle.
Turlough knelt beside the wounded man then looked up at Rundly. "We have to help him," he said.
"He's been cut deeply. There's nothing we can do," Rundly replied emotionlessly.
"We can bandage the wound and get him to a surgeon—" Turlough began.
"A surgeon? Where are we going to find one out here?"
"Isn't there a hospital unit?"
"Hospital? You mean a place for the injured?"
"Yes. Surely you've set up a facility to care for the wounded."
"There's an apothecary at our base camp, but it's nearly a day's walk from here."
"Is that where we're heading?" Turlough looked back down at the fallen soldier. The man had pressed his hand against Turlough's arm.
"No. I already told you, we're heading for the Briars' main camp."
"They'll have some facilities for the wounded—"
"And just how to you suggest we get him there?"
Gramond made a noise much like a whimper. Turlough gently clasped his shoulder. "I'll take him."
Rundly shrugged. "Suit yourself. But if he slows you down, you're leaving him."
Turlough returned his attention to the injured man. "Do you have any bandages?" he asked after a moment.
Rundly gestured to another soldier who produced some torn strips of linen from his bag. He handed these to Turlough, and the Trion eased Gramond soldier upward and wrapped the bandages securely around his chest and back.
"Come on. We've wasted enough time here already." Rundly helped Turlough heave the soldier up to his feet.
Supporting his charge, Turlough stumbled out of the meadow with the king's loyal men.
Tegan was nearly unbearably thirsty, hungry, and tired, and for the last few minutes the leaves had been rustling noisily overhead. The noise was grating on her nerves considerably. As the Doctor easily forged ahead, she began to slow, falling several paces then several yards behind him.
After a time he glanced back and noticed her slow stride. He turned to walk back to her. "Come on, Tegan," he urged, "we have to keep moving."
She had kept her gaze focused on the ground for several minutes, but now she looked up. "Can we rest for a little while?" she asked softly.
He studied her for a moment, then said, "I haven't found anything for you to eat yet, have I?"
She shook her head. Her stomach had ceased its audible protestations. Now it simply seemed to squeeze in upon itself in a very uncomfortable way. She pressed her hand against her belly.
"All right. You stay here , and I'll see what I can find." He looked around then took her arm and led her to a clump of tall, flowering bushes. "Stay behind these until I return."
Tegan slipped through the soft branches and fragrant blossoms and stationed herself among the brush as the Time Lord hurried away. She touched one of the flowers to find its lavender petals velvety and soft. In the lighter growth of this area the sun shone in large patches between the trees, illuminating and warming Tegan. She felt so weary; she allowed herself to sink to her knees. For a few minutes she felt almost tranquil in the sunshine with the floral perfume gently surrounding her.
Her tranquility was short-lived, however. Soon the sound of the leaves returned, growing louder and more insistent. Tegan lifted her hands to cover her ears, but some small characteristic of the noise made her stop. The rustling had turned into whispers, and as she listened she could almost discern words. The sounds were not random; there was a rhythm within them much like speech. She focused her attention on the whispers.
Suddenly she understood a word clearly: "Help." The word was repeated, and the voice was high and shrill. With a start she realized that it was a child's voice. Tegan stepped from the bushes and moved in the direction of the cry. She continued to listen, and now she heard a distinct phrase: "Help! I'm in the water. Help me! Mama, help me!"
The plea was drifting through the trees to her left. Tegan ran toward the cry that the child seemed to repeat over and over again. In a few minutes she saw a small lake. The child's voice had grown louder; she felt certain that the youngster had fallen into the pool.
She hurried to the edge of the water and looked over the surface. The water appeared calm. "Where are you?" she called.
There was no reply. Indeed, the child's cries had ceased. She squinted at the bright water. In the middle of the lake a dark shadow hovered just beneath the surface. Tegan's heart leapt; the child was drowning. She waded into the water. Its depth increased quickly, immersing her to the shoulders nearly immediately. The water was cold, and Tegan tried to keep from shivering as she continued to move toward the child.
She allowed her feet to float up and began to swim. She moved easily for a few moments, but then she felt her shoulder brush against something. Her sleeve caught on an object in the water. She twisted her head to see a large branch next to her. She guessed that it was stuck somehow on the lake bottom. Her sweater was hooked over one of the branch's smaller protrusions. She moved her arm to pull it away, but the sleeve caught on a second rough, thick twig. This time she felt the wood scrape her skin, and after a few seconds blood drifted to the surface of the water.
"Cripes," she muttered, still working to free herself. She kicked her feet to keep herself afloat, but they were growing numb in the chill of the water. Her hands were losing sensation, too. She twisted around to tug at her sleeve. She felt the branch against her legs, snagging her stockings, seeming to affix her clothing to it more securely with every motion she made. Frantically she pulled and rotated her body, but somehow she only became more entangled in the numerous sharp twigs.
She looked out toward the middle of the lake. The shadow flickered as she watched. "Hang on!" she cried as her shoulders began to slip downward. She gasped, and water sloshed into her mouth. She coughed and tried to expel it, but the lake seemed to suck her further down. Tegan's head disappeared beneath the surface.
After a moment her right hand shot out of the water, grasping at the top of the branch, but it had drifted slightly to the side. Her senseless fingers splashed in the water, then her hand sank into the depths of the lake.