Chapter 2

The Path and The Mirrors.

It wasn't that the eyes pulled her in. They crept silently into her head filling it with a darkness. Time seemed to gather around the creature in a black fog. It looked down at her, with a knowing, wisdom maybe, but also contempt. Its will seemed to crush all of her self-will and independent thought.

Something yanked at her arm. She felt numb. She stumbled backwards, breaking the gaze. The wood was visible and so was Rory. He was shouting something, but she couldn't hear. He was pulling her away, down the path of mirrors. The faces of the tree people turned to stare at them, they had been standing with their heads lolling and their eyes closed, as if they were asleep standing up. She tried to speak, but then she saw her arm. From her hand to just below her elbow was red and flaking, as if it had been burnt.

Then, pop!, and sound opened out. It is only when you have been deaf for a time that you realise the smaller sounds afterwards. The trees murmured. The crunch of their feet on the path seemed as loud as a thunder-crack. The dryads were talking. In their own soft, peaceful, unchanging voices that spoke of something far off and long ago. As they ran, Amy caught a glimpse of the mirrors. They were very ornate in a Rococo style, cherubs and gold and silver trumpets. But wild grass had grown up and over them. The mirrors had been reflecting the light through the woods, far far into the distance. Amy looked out, down into the wood, but she couldn't see an end to the trail. They ran round a corner, and the wood changed. The trees were leafless, fallen or just stumps. The dryads were lying the grass, as if asleep. But grass had grown over them, and they were half-buried in the earth. It would have been completely pitch black if not for the ghostly reflection-light.

In front of them, a little way ahead, was The Doctor, peering over one of the mirrors. He had a piece of paper in his hand.

'Where have you been?' demanded Rory.

'Don't go wandering off!'

'Doctor, what's going on?'

The Doctor sighed.

'This place is infinitely big. Its impossible to get into and out on purpose. It just pops up in random places. The dryads here eat the light, and the water, and the energy. When you loose sight of something, its very likely you'll lose it altogether because the expanse of the wood is huge. We're not likely to see the TARDIS again. The only reason the light from the mirrors isn't going out is because its being reflected from outside the wood.'

'So... we could get out by following the path?'

'Not necessarily. If the wood goes on forever so could the path.'

'What about the mirrors. The cherubs. They're earth mirrors aren't they, Doctor, what are they doing here?'

'I don't know, surprisingly I don't know everything. Someone else must have come before us. Left them here.'

'Which means the path has an end?'

'Well of course, they would have run out of mirrors eventually.'

'Well then!'

'Just because the path ends doesn't mean the wood does.'

'So where's the light coming from?'

'Ah, glad you asked, dryads can't live on light alone they need water. There must a river somewhere around here where the water surface reflects the light.'

'What light source would be reflected in the river though?'

'There are no dryads left here they all probably dies of light deprovatation. There may be a light source that the person who came here before here left. If it was fire it could still be burning, what with all this dry wood about.'

'Oh'.

'POND! what happened to your arm? Don't touch the dryads!'

'Will it be alright, Doctor?'

'Yes, yes, you're going to be fine, Pond.' He said absent-mindedly. She wasn't, but there must be water soon.

The Doctor wandered off sulkily among the dead tree trunks. Irritably he kicked a stone off the path, 'LOVELY PLACE!' He shouted angrily at the space where the sky should be. The sound echoed dully through unseen valleys and ravines. Suddenly he noticed turned around and saw, a signpost?