Chapter 2

"What is that?" Susan asked, shrinking back against Barbara.

"I'm not sure, but it sounds quite far away," Barbara answered, trying to be as soothing as she could.

She was seriously worried that what had been intended as a short afternoon walk from their ship had been a mistake. This wasn't the first strange creaking-calling sound they had heard, somewhere in the many rifts, valleys and furrows around them, though they had yet to see any kind of living creature. It reminded her vaguely of crows and under the circumstances that mundane association wasn't comforting at all. She found herself looking upward at the strangely undulating veils that served as foliage in the trees.

And even worse, they were lost. Barbara took some comfort in knowing that they couldn't be too terribly lost, they hadn't had time for that, but the TARDIS had most certainly not been where they expected it would be. Twice.

She took Susan's hand. "Come on, I'm sure we must be close," she said.

"We're lost, aren't we?" Susan said. "We should've found it by now. What if Grandfather comes back and finds we're gone?"

Whatever Barbara was about to reply was frozen somewhere between her throat and her tongue as yet another of the drawn out crow-like cries sounded just ahead of them. She looked around for anything that might offer a hiding place. Half-dragging Susan along with her, she ran to where one of the steeper walls formed a sort of overhang, a shadowed opening beneath it.

"Up there," she said softly. "Whatever it is, let's hope it passes us by."

Susan needed no further urging. Gathering her skirt in one hand she quickly scaled the small distance to the shelter, crouching and scooting deeper into it as Barbara joined her. They huddled back into the depression, which was deeper than they'd first thought, the brown fibrous walls darker and more fragrant the farther back they went.

"Ouch. What's that?" Susan whispered, shifting to one side. She reached back and pulled up what looked like a chunk of terra-cotta pottery.

Barbara felt around, brushing a good dozen of fragments to the side. "Looks like we've found someone's old wine-jar cache or something," she whispered back. She gave the pieces only a glance, her eyes fixed on the opening. They waited in silence for a long moment.

"Look at this," Susan whispered, turning one over. "Isn't it strange? Doesn't look like any pottery I've ever seen before. The edges are all ragged where it's broken."

"Must have had some plant material mixed in," Barbara replied, wondering if the girl could ever hold her tongue. She pushed Susan's hand with the shard back down before she could continue with it. "Now be still!" she hissed.

. . .

The Doctor hadn't really minded when the fibrous curved walls he'd leaned against had rather abruptly pulled apart to reveal a tunnel entrance, if anything it was a delightful discovery, exactly the sort of thing he liked best, though it might have been more convenient if he had been able to open it back up again once he was inside.

"Well," he said to himself. "Ian no doubt find his way in eventually. Hm, hm, heh!"

Part of what made it so utterly delightful was not only how well it had been hidden, but the way the bits of light filtered down through fissures above, the rich, woody scent of it and the fascinating tree-like sponginess of it all. It wasn't a natural cave, nor a crafted structure, but rather it appeared to be a long, rounded natural tube or tunnel that might have even been grown that way.

He rubbed his chin and considered the two directions possible. After a moment, he fished a coin from his pocket and flipped it, then cheerfully headed off to his right.

. . .

Huddled in their meager shelter, the two women waited, trying to be as quiet and still as they could. After several minutes passed with no sign or sound of anything hostile, they began to relax. Susan was so easily frightened Barbara sincerely hoped it had been a false alarm; she put an arm around the girl comfortingly.

"Think we should continue?"

"Can't we just stay here a little longer?" asked Susan in a small voice.

"Of course we can. But if we wait too long, I'm sure the Doctor and Ian will be worried for us. Maybe we can climb one of those trees out there. We'd be able to see the TARDIS if we were higher up."

Susan suddenly gave her a small giggle. "Can you imagine Grandfather's face if he found us up a tree?"

"I think he's seen stranger things." Barbara leaned back against the wall behind her. It was springy with fibers, reminding her of frayed wicker or brambles. Slightly tacky to the touch, she noticed a resinous, sweet scent lifting with every movement. "This reminds me of when I was a girl," she said softly.

"What happened?" asked Susan, ready to be distracted by a story.

"Oh, nothing much. My father liked to get up early to fish sometimes and I followed him. I wasn't supposed to, I was supposed to be getting ready to go to school. When he heard someone following him I was more afraid of him finding me and sending me back than anything else, so I sort of burrowed myself back into a rotting log."

"A log?"

"Yes, you know how they soften in the middle after a while. Some animal had already dug most of it away, and I was quite small."

"And?"

"Nothing. I suppose I was lucky whatever had dug it away wasn't still there. I lay in there with all those bits of wood and pillbugs, trying not to be noisy. After a while, I came back out."

"You weren't lost?"

"No, I really hadn't gone that far, it just felt like it. My Mum was calling for me from our house and I went back. I guess it doesn't make for a very interesting story, it was just this place reminded me of it; it even almost smells like it. I guess we should…"

They both screamed as a large, dark brown head suddenly shot up outside their shelter, blocking the light, its white-ringed eyes peering in at them sharply.

They hadn't heard it coming at all. Barbara didn't know how big the rest of it was; the head was nearly a yard across though, which was more than enough. They both curled up away from it. Susan was now closest to the opening and it only considered them a moment before taking a snatch at her.

The creature's beak-like mouth was nearly translucent, like the trees above them, but thick and firm. It couldn't maneuver into their shelter, but with a snort it managed to close its array of rubbery ridges onto one of Susan's kicking legs. She shrieked as it began dragging her out.

. . .

Ian spun around. He was sure that had been a scream, probably Susan's. He hesitated briefly over which way to try, cursing the way this landscape seemed to soak up any sound at all. He ran.

The fruitless searching for a sign, any sign, of any of his missing companions had been horrible and while he was alarmed at her scream, he was grateful to hear that Susan was alive. Hopefully Barbara would be with her, maybe even the Doctor. His heavy heart soared in spite of his anxiety.

"I'm coming! Susan! Barbara!"

. . .

"Oh no you don't!" growled Barbara. She hung onto Susan with all her strength, pulling the poor girl into a brief, horrible game of tug-o-war. Fearing it would win the contest, or worse, bite off the girl's leg, she shifted her hold and pushed Susan toward the back while bringing her own legs forward to hammer at the snout with her feet. One-two, one-two, one-two! Her shoes had flat, wide heels; she wished they were stilettos.

The creature gave a strange croaking cry down in its throat and yanked Susan forward, chunks of pottery rattling down to the valley floor as she was dragged across the floor. Barbara kept on kicking the rubbery snout for all she was worth. Susan suddenly fell forward, half on her as she was released; Barbara got one more kick in before it pulled its head away from them entirely. The girl scrambled behind her, sobbing with fear and shock. Barbara could feel her shaking against her back. She shifted her position, ready to kick again if necessary; her legs and shoes were the only weapons she had. They needed help.

"Ian!" she cried. It was almost instinctive, calling for him, and though they really had no idea how far away Ian and the Doctor might be, she had to at least try. "Ian! Help! It's after Susan! Ian!"

There was no response, no sound of his reassuring voice, no sign of him. The brown head bobbed up and down in front of their small shelter again, shaking its head so much she wondered if she'd managed to injure it. Then strange rubbery beak-snout lifted and opened, came at her.

Wham! Wham! One-two! She kicked it again with all her strength.

It pulled back, shaking its head again and snorting its grating crow-like cry, then moved away, shuffling rapidly out of their sight.

They stayed as they were, on alert, but it seemed to be well and truly gone for the time being. Barbara finally turned to comfort the tear-streaked Susan as best she could. "Let me see your leg."

Susan sniffled and managed a shaky smile. "I think it'll be all right, just bruised and pulled a bit. You were marvelous!" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Shoes are a woman's best friend," Barbara quipped, carefully feeling down the girl's leg and checking her ankle. "Can you turn that? Good. Nothing broken, anyway. It should be bound up." She began loosening the sash on her dress.

"What was that, do you think?"

"Something that needs to find its dinner somewhere else, that's all we need to know," Barbara said.

"Ian didn't come."

Barbara didn't meet her eyes. "No, he didn't. They must be too far away."

"Do you…do you think…" Susan faltered. Barbara shook her head. Neither of them wanted to speak those words, not really.

"Your grandfather is a very resourceful man," she said, binding up Susan's ankle with the sash.

"And so is Ian."

"Yes." She finished wrapping it and tucked in the end. "Now, can you walk on that?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, Barbara. If we'd just stayed in the TARDIS none of this would've happened."

"I was just as responsible as you. Now come on, that thing might come back." Barbara slid forward and out of their hole, reaching back to help Susan down to the floor of the little valley. "Let's see if we can get to one of those trees. I'll climb it so we can see where the TARDIS is."

. . .

Ian puffed along the bottom of yet another ridge then leaned over to catch his breath. He'd faintly heard what sounded like Barbara's voice after Susan's scream, but now there was nothing. He kicked at a scatttering of pottery shards and broken crockery that were sprinkled along the valley, the only sign of any kind of civilization he'd seen; these jumbled of strangely shaped pieces were everywhere, all in terra-cotta, peach and yellow. Nothing else. For all he knew he could have passed the girls, or he could be going in the wrong direction entirely. He scrubbed at his hair with frustration, then suddenly froze.

What was that?

Holding his breath, he listened. Yes, something, somewhere down a furrow-valley that opened just ahead, to his right; something was moving, coming his way.

"Barbara?" he called.

A croaking call answered him, just before its owner lurched into sight. No, that most certainly wasn't Barbara!

He didn't know if the creature was as surprised to see him as he had been to see it, but the white-ringed eyes certainly gave that impression. They had a mutual pause and hesitation; the creature recovered first.

The strange cartilage-like snout came at him so fast he barely managed to leap aside, stumbling over the uneven floor of the small valley. Its head followed him; he locked his fists together and turned to gave it a wallop on the side of the head with all his strength.

It staggered sideways slightly, the pottery bits scraping and clattering under its feet. It gave its brown head a shake to consider him. He slowly backed away, ready to hit it again, eyeing the ridges around him to see if any of them might be climbed. The mouth opened, came at him again, this time with the beast circling around as if to try pinning him against one of the walls. He swung at it and missed, leaped aside and swung again. This time he got a good, solid connect, right on the end of its snout.

The creature gave another of its croaking cries and backed away, shaking its head again then suddenly abandoned the fight, turning and making its way down the small valley. It disappeared around a bend.

Ian leaned back against one of the walls and gasped for breath, checking his arms to be sure he hadn't torn a muscle in the exertion. It didn't bode well at all that there were creatures like this roaming the place. What would Barbara or Susan have done if they'd run into such a thing? He straightened up with alarm - that scream! Maybe they had run into this thing or something like it.

"Hold on, now, Ian, old boy," he said to himself. "Barbara is a resourceful woman. They're probably fine. Holed up somewhere, or on their way back." He wasn't sure he was buying it. Besides, there was the Doctor to consider too. What would a thing like that do to him? He was proud, and not inclined to consider his own frailty or age.

His heart ached with worry. How he wished Barbara were here; she was so good at pointing out whatever would be the most practical thing to do. Well, this time he'd have to do it himself. He headed up the side-trail, where it had come from. "Barbara! Susan!"

. . .

The climb up to the base of the tree-trunks wasn't steep, but Susan found it difficult with her injury. Not wanting to leave her alone, Barbara had to hunt up and down the ridge to find the smoothest place she could, then helped her hobble up it.

"What unusual trees," Barbara noted as they made their way to the nearest one. She poked a toe at the thick, rounded ridges that seemed to serve as its roots and put her hands on either side of the smooth beige bark to consider the waving gauzy nets above. "I wonder what they're gathering… water from the air, you think? Maybe it doesn't rain here?"

Susan shrugged. "I haven't the energy to even wonder," she said, lowering herself to the ground. "I just want to find Grandfather."

"And Ian," Barbara agreed. She looked up again. "I wish it were more bushy, some lower branches would make this easier. What are those little growths, I wonder? I hope they aren't alive. Well, nothing for it now... Here," she removed her shoes and handed them to the Susan, took a breath and made a jump at the trunk of the tree.

It was slow, difficult going; the trunk was smooth and even with her bare feet she had a hard time finding a purchase. The cloth of her dress kept catching but still, at least she was making a small amount of headway. She inched her way up until her aching arms and legs began to seriously protest then grabbed onto the trunk as firmly as she could, turning her head to see what could be seen from that awkward angle.

Most of what she could see consisted of a seemingly endless scatter of the same type of tree, all poking up out of the same ridged and furrowed brown landscape.

"Can you see anything?" Susan called up to her.

"No," She called back down, "nothing but trees." She looked up. The nearest branching was still yards overhead, the small pin-cushion-looking protuberances sprinkled here and there and the clear 'foliage' waving above it all. She inched up, then tried shifting to the other side, inching around the trunk a little, though it made her lose some of her hard-gained height again. "Wait! There. I think I can see the top of the TARDIS!" She half-slid down the trunk, stumbling over the ridges at the bottom as she shook out her half-numbed hands. Her legs, overstrained from both kicking and climbing, ached sharply.

"Which way?" asked Susan, reaching for a hand up. "Did you see any sign of Grandfather or Ian?"

"No, but maybe they'll be there waiting for us."

"Maybe," Susan agreed, willing to be reassured. The two women made their way back down the slope and started off in the general direction that Barbara had seen the ship. Susan could only go slowly and though she tried to be brave about it, it was plain that her leg and ankle were giving her pain. Barbara's legs were complaining as well, so she didn't mind the pace.

"This is worse than driving in London," Barbara remarked as they limped along. "Every time you think a road goes one direction, it goes another. Quieter, though."

"It's very quiet," Susan agreed. "I think all this spongy landscape is stopping the sound."

"You're right. I just hadn't thought about it. A soundproof planet. I suppose it would be very peaceful."

"I don't think I'd like it," Susan said. "It makes it far too easy for something to sneak up on you. I'm sorry, Barbara, but can we stop for a moment? This leg…"

"Of course," Barbara said quickly, helping her to the side. "Here, we can sit in the shade a moment. I'm sure it can't be much farther." They both settled down against the fibrous brown wall.

The wall gave way.

Both of them gave an involuntary shriek and grabbed onto the other as they fell back into an open space, landing hard. Both tried to reorient and grab at the opening above them their fingers slipping across it as the thick fibers closed back up.