The Doctor pressed his hands to the sides of his face, trying to focus on direction through the screams of pain slicing through his mind. He could hear Donna as if from a distance, closing the TARDIS doors behind them, calling to him, asking him what was happening, where they should run, but he could barely respond, attempting so hard to pinpoint the location of the tormented Hynnae. "Ahh! That way!" he shouted, pointing blindly. "No! That way!" He corrected his point by a couple of degrees to his right.

"All right, Doctor, come on!" Donna's urging pulled him back into reality, and he felt his hand being grabbed in hers, and she was pulling him along as fast as she could. He could not open his eyes, for Witha'an's panic and terror was so strong that it completely overwhelmed the Doctor's senses. Donna saw this, and she made sure he didn't trip and fall. "Come on, spaceman, come on."

The Doctor tried to shout back to Witha'an telepathically, but he had no way of knowing if his messages got through. And he was speaking aloud, too. "We're coming, we're coming, hold on, Witha'an, we're coming, it's going to be fine, hang on, we're coming!"

Doctor! The voice of Witha'an was clear in his mind then. They were getting closer. Doctor, please, please don't let go.

I'm not letting go, I'm right here, I'm staying, I won't leave you alone again. Hold on, I think we're really close, just hold on, can you tell me what's happening? the Doctor pleaded.

They are hurting me, the Dreans, they think I can bring back their people, but I can't, Doctor, you know I can't. Please hurry, they are hurting me!

The Doctor could hear, really hear, not just in his mind, shouts now. Shouts of Dreans, harsh screams and demands. All right, we are almost there. You're going to be fine. Just hold on.

"Doctor, are you hearing that?" Donna cried as her less sensitive ears picked up the sound.

"Yeah," the Doctor managed to say. "We're close." But the closer they got, the more difficult it was to handle Witha'an's pain. He could feel resistance under his feet. They were running up a hill, and his eyes were still closed. "It's just…over this hill."

The Doctor forced his eyes to open, forced the contact with the Hynnae to be diminished enough so he could focus. They reached the top of the golden hill, and below them, halfway down the slope, was a small group of Drean men, surrounding and kicking and slashing at with stone knifes, a small, dark, terrified figure. "STOP!" the Doctor shouted.

Startled, all of the men looked up, abandoning their torment of Witha'an for a moment. The Doctor strode down at them menacingly, glaring with the fury of a man who has seen too much. "Stop. This. NOW." Icy calm and terrifying, his voice rang out quietly and loudly at the same time.

One of the men was brave and idiotic enough to speak up. "You! You're the prisoner who ran off."

The Doctor looked at him sharply. "And you're one of the idiots holding a knife to my throat earlier. Yeah, my memory of you isn't too fond either. Shut up. All of you. Just shut up. Witha'an, shh. I can't carry on two conversations at once, at least not easily. Come here, it's okay now." The small, dog-like creature, bleeding and limping, crawled over to the two travelers. Donna took pity on him and knelt down next to him, gathering him to her and trying to stop the bleeding. The Doctor glanced back once and, satisfied that Witha'an was in good hands, turned his attention to the men now backing away from him like he was on fire. He took a step towards them.

"I understand that you are worried for your people," the Doctor began calmly. His anger seemed to be abating. "But what exactly were you hoping to accomplish by this? This…atrocity?"

One of the men, not the same one as before, spoke up timidly. "We thought that the creature was responsible for our peoples' deaths."

"Look. They aren't dead," the Doctor countered. "And there's one thing you did manage to get right in all of this. Witha'an is responsible for this. But he didn't mean to, and I can fix everything. Just let me help you."

"They aren't dead?" one of the other men said in disbelief. "Then where are they all? Four people have disappeared over the past two months. Where are they, if not dead?"

"It's very difficult to explain, but I'm sure they will be happy to try when they return. They might be disoriented for a while, a bit mad, maybe, but they'll be alright eventually. But please, I'm asking you to give me just a little time. Please, let me take Witha'an to my, er, oh, there isn't a word exactly in your language. Wagon? No, no, definitely not. Look, I just need you to trust me, all right? I promise, I can get your friends and family back to you. Just trust me." The Doctor looked at the men with the most trustworthy face he could make.

The men exchanged glances. Then one of them nodded: the first one to speak. "Fine. We will trust you because we seem to have no other option right now. But we will follow you to your…wagon, man who calls himself Doctor, and you will not trick us or attack us."

"She's not a wa—Oh, never mind," the Doctor grumbled. "All right, allons-y. And I won't trick you or attack you. I'm only here to help. Donna, can you carry—. Or not. Sorry, hang on." Sorry, Witha'an, but are you sure you don't want help? You're pretty badly hurt.

Doctor, I am capable of walking alongside you on my own.

Really, cos it doesn't look like it. And you're going to need all the strength you have soon. Before, I was only severing the link from me to you. Severing the link from you to other people is going to be exhausting for both of us. Witha'an, please let Donna help you.

…Fine. But it hurts my pride.

Right. Deal with it, just this once. 'Kay? The Doctor realized that everyone was looking at him strangely. A seemingly random silence must not be very normal in conversations on this planet. Were they on any planet? Well, except for those couple where the language was…no, not important right now. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "Donna, Witha'an grudgingly will allow you to carry him. Would you do that?"

"'Course."

"Great. Big help. Thank you. And you," he said, looking disdainfully at the men, "stay out of my way. Right. TARDIS this way."

"Your wagon?"

"She's not a bloody wagon! Oh, shut up, Donna."

Donna barely tried to stifle her laughter. "I'm sure she'll love to know you called her a wagon."

"It's her translation program that messes me up!" The Doctor frowned. "You won't tell her, will you?"