The soldiers marched the remaining archaeologist back to their camp in silence. River felt a tight tug from the soldier pulling her forward. From what she's gathered, his name is Manton and he's quite ruthless in his endeavors. Had it been solely left to his discretion, he made it clear that he would have long disposed of them back at the tribal grounds. She would have been more grateful to his commander had he not ordered the death of a tribe that lived innocently in the forest. Scum. He was nothing but a bottom dweller in her eyes and she'll be sure to make that clear to him when she's given the chance.

John watched her curiously as they marched on. He couldn't quite figure her out. She seemed just like any other archaeologist, all righteous and so confident that their guesses about history are absolute fact. But there was something different about her. Something that he couldn't deny drew him to her and, he admits begrudgingly to himself, makes her far more attractive and fascinating than it should. And the trouble she caused earlier, her unyielding anger and casual willingness to fire her gun at him men, he shouldn't like that, but he does a bit.

He notices the red welts forming on her wrists as Manton tugs her along with more force than truly necessary. He should apologize for that, shouldn't he? Would he have if it were any other archaeology, or maybe if it were this woman's tubby male companion? Probably not. What was it about her that seemed to draw him in?

River felt the general's eyes linger on her as they marched. She turned her head quickly and caught him immediately look away and focus on his men. River narrowed her eyes as she studied him. What was his agenda? Was he cruel? If he were then she and her friends would be dead by now, right? Or was it British policy to protect its citizens? No, there was something in his expression: compassion, empathy.

She studied his face closer. He had high cheekbones and looked young, but his eyes told the story of a man far beyond his years; the story of a man who's seen more than his fair share of horror. He was very attractive, she'd give him that and he seemed confident and competent while leading his men. But there was something about the way he held himself that gave him away. He wasn't the cruel, malevolent creature he sets himself to look like. So, why would he go for such a title? Why would he allow his men to pillage and rape and destroy a village if he weren't? And more importantly, why did his eyes always find their way back towards her?

Their eyes met for an instant and he looked almost timid, as though he were trying to communicate with her silently. River simply narrowed her eyes in contempt and turned her attention to the path ahead. She'd rather face the obviously demented face of this "Manton" character than be face to face with that obviously confused and torn general.

John's eyebrows furrowed with frustration. Why did she despise him so much? He just saved her life. He could have easily ordered their death and spared the trouble of holding them at their camp until British officials could extract them. Not to mention the effort it would take just to contact those officials and the paperwork it would take to get them out of this God forsaken place. A little appreciation wouldn't hurt anyone, least of all her.

He gave a petty pout as he tried to use this information to harbor disdain for the ungrateful woman. River snuck a glance at the general and rolled her eyes as she noticed his expression. Was he honestly upset? After what he and his men have just done? Dear lord, he looked like an overgrown twelve-year-old. She quickly looked away in annoyance and did everything in her power to look anywhere except for at him,

"River?" Anita quietly called to her friend, "What do you think they're going to do with us?"

"Yeah, why didn't they just kill us there?" Dave quickly chimed in, "I mean, they killed other Dave and Miss Evangelista on sight."

"Quiet, you miscreants!" shouted an officer from ahead. He tugged harder on their ropes and caused Dave to stumble slightly.

River simply glared at her barbaric captors and ignored their warnings. "You're right. If they were going to kill us they would have done so by now instead of creating a mess at their camp. They'll either have us sent back to England immediately or charge us for obstruction and assault-"

Manton yanked her rope roughly and sent River flying onto her knees before she could say another word. He bent over close to her face and snarled, "I'll do a lot worse to you when I get my chance, sweetheart." She could see the pure hatred shining from his eyes and glared back, "And I'll wipe that pretty little scowl off your face while I'm at it," he added as he caressed her cheek and lips.

River growled and opened her mouth in an attempt to bite him; she knew how to draw blood. He pulled his thumb away quickly and continued to smile maliciously before cupping her face.

"Manton," came his general's stern voice, "leave the prisoners alone and continue marching. We're late and I don't have time for any of this foolishness."

Manton and River looked up to notice that the rest of the men had continued on and marched passed their scene. The general had noticed their absence and had gone back, if only to save the poor woman from his cruel soldier.

"Go catch up with the rest of the men and prepare for supper. I know you're on dining duty tonight." John looked down at the fallen woman. "I'll take her to the containment area, just go make sure the men are well fed tonight. The tribal chief may have gotten away, but you all still did a good day's work."

Manton glanced down at River and back up at his commanding officer. With one last scowl at the prisoner, he begrudgingly nodded in agreement. Giving John the rope, Manton quickly got to his feet and ran in order to catch up with the rest of his comrades.

Once he was out of earshot, John offered his mysterious archaeologist a hand off the ground. She took it hesitantly, but refused to look back at him. They began walking in silence towards the camp while John studied her for a moment. He took in her wild curls, greenish-brown eyes and full lips. There was a small bump on her nose, as though it were broken and reset more than once. She was a little dirty from the lack of bathing facilities and she looked worn out from exploring the area, but despite that she still looked breath taking; calm, quiet, with a fierce spark in her eyes.

"My name's John. John Smith, but most people call me 'The Doctor'," he spoke softly, "or 'General Smith'." The woman didn't respond. She simply looked away with a grimace. "I'm sorry about Officer Manton," he sighed, "he is one of the harsher soldiers under my command. But they're not all bad, I promise."

"And why should I trust you?" she challenged with a scowl in his direction.

A smirk grew on his face when he finally hears her voice. He heard her at the camp a little, but he was in a state of absence during the moment that he didn't register it. And he heard her whispering with her companions, but it was too soft for him to clearly make anything out aside from soft wisps. Now he hears it clearly and it's much better than he imagine. It's firm, yet soft; angry, yet sweet. Something else he shouldn't like, but does.

"Trust me, I'm the Doctor," he replied with a cheeky smile.

River was caught off guard by his reaction and can't help the blush that creeps up her cheeks. He really does have a boyish charm to him. His grin was carefree and his eyes were soft; this was something she could tell he didn't regularly. It was an expression begging for trust, one which she almost couldn't deny. Almost. She took in the rest of his features as they continued walking before slowly turning away.

"River," she said quietly after a few moments, still refusing to look back at him. "River Song."

John's grin grew even larger. River. That was a lovely name and quite fitting for a woman who is as wild and unpredictable. River Song. Now, why did that name sound so familiar?

"Well Miss Song," he addressed her more cheerfully, their pace slowing as they could see the camp a distant away. "I must admit that what you did today was completely reckless, brave and, may I say, brilliant."

River's face immediately swung around to look at her enigmatic nemesis with a look of disbelief and confusion. John continued to smile as her softly with a complementary gaze. He meant it; he was actually meaning to compliment her on her acts today. But why? Didn't she completely ruin the mission? She purposefully aided in the escape of their main target.

"And while I'm being completely forthcoming," he continued after basking in her shock, "I would like to thank you." The look of complete astonishment on her face was quite lovely. Her eyes wide, brows furrowed, and mouth hanging. Quite lovely indeed. "That was not the tribe we were assigned to raid today," he admitted quietly and looked away ashamed. "I was afraid they would actually destroy the entire tribe before you began shooting my men," he added the last part jokingly with a turn of his lips and soft chuckle.

"Then why didn't you stop them," she asked as her anger began to return. "You allowed your men to attack and murder innocent people- knowingly I might add." Her chest heaved as she looked at him in disgust. "You are their general. You should have stopped them. You should have-"

"I know," he cut her off loudly as they came to a stop just far enough from the campsite to not be easily heard. "I know," he repeated more quietly. River studied his face as he looked down in shame and weariness, softening her slightly. "I just… 'General'," he gave a scoff and shook his head, "So many people have killed and died for that title, but it's only nominal. I can bark this order and that, but I don't control my soldiers. I have no real power over them." He paused before looking at River sadly. "If they want a blood bath, they find one. They knew that wasn't the tribe we were looking for. We've encountered some of them before; they look, dress and act very different, much more hostile. But they were tired of searching, tired of me leading them to dead ends because I'm far too cowardly to allow them a proper raid. They wanted to pillage and shoot and kill and they wouldn't care who it was, as long as it was done."

River's anger slowly began to fade as they saw the look of complete distress and turmoil in the general's face; the sad and scary truth that hid behind his old, sad eyes. She wanted to touch his face, relinquish the guilt from him. She understood how it felt to internalize the blame of something that was not in her power. But she didn't.

John sighed softly and looked back at River. Her face was a mixture of mistrust, anger, and pity; none of which he wanted at the moment. Without another word they continued to walk in the campsite and John pulled River aside to get her linens for her bed. He escorted her the rest of the way to the holding area in silence.

The area designated for captives was small and surrounded by soldiers. It was a collection of five small tents in the middle of the camp to ensure that any escapees were caught effectively. They were held separately to ensure that none of them tried to conspired to escape and were watched at all times. Food would be given to them at strict hours by the soldiers and if any of them needed to use the bathroom, they were escorted by two or three. No one has been able to escape from General Smith's camp, not yet at least.

The soldier on guard saluted his general before allowing him and River entrance to the holding area. John walked River to one of the open tents and set her things down on the empty bed with a single pillow. River gave him a curt smile and nodded her thanks silently. John returned it before making his way past her towards the exit.

River let her shoulders sag as he passed her and let out an exhausted sigh. She was about to go forward and make her bed before John called back to her.

"Oh and River," he said quietly, turning to face her. "I'm very sorry about your friends. I didn't mean for them to get killed."

River swallowed and held back her tears at the reminder of the other Dave and Miss Evangelista. She nodded softly and John stood there until she met his gaze, then he quickly retreated.

River stood still for a several moments before letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She closed her eyes and allowed a single tear to escape before quickly recovering her calm, but tired demeanor. She quickly made her bed and immediately collapsed onto it's rough mattress. She stayed in the bed, laying completely still and processing all the information of the day until someone came in to serve her dinner. She stared at the bowl and spoon that sat near the entrance before decidedly turning her back to it and going straight to sleep.

But nothing could get her mind off that confused, lost general.