I know it's been a ridiculously long time, but I finally patched up the odds and ends of this one. I hope you enjoy this,
Sorry for the wait
The Doctor uses the jungle's time-tree as a time and space portal to its sister; Clara lay at the base of the tree, the TARDIS light illuminating the scene drearily.
The Vilroushka pads forward, hungry and menacing.
Torn too soon from the majesty of the time-tree, the Doctor emerged on twisted black roots. His TARDIS in sight, he clambers carelessly over a long, fleshy mushroom or something of the like—it's too dark to see for sure, and has more pressing matters to attend to. Feet away from the oblong mushroom, he hears a croak.
"Doc…tor…"
No. This, this isn't right…slowly, painfully, his double heartbeat pummeling his ears…he turns his head towards the sound. Towards Clara. That single, pained rasp had the power to stop time itself, it seemed. He saw her body splayed across the hard black roots, a forgotten, stained marionette. I can't take you with me, he thought, reaching into his pocket. The transport would be initiated upon the signaling of the activation device, and he'd be in the TARDIS with her, just as they always were, and everything would be fine.
The tips of his fingers made contact with the bottom of his coat-pocket lining. His body stood cold and rigid while is hands made a mad dash to explore every pocket, his eyes frantically searching the ground. Whirling in an awkward circle, he heard Clara again, her cry drowned by the roar of the deafening wild cat…and he ran. He just ran, throwing himself into the TARDIS. He could transport her inside via the connection with her TARDIS key. Racing to the console of his familiar, welcoming machine, he peers at the telescreen just in time to see the cat upon Clara. Fingers flying in frustration, he releases he can't get a lock on her, not with the cat on top of her like this. He might bring it inside, or splice the DNA of both—a blinding white light appeared on the left of the screen. Looking up, a far-off memory of a patronus is stirred, all silvery and white and otherworldly and hopeful.
The blast of light drove away the Vilroushka, leaving Clara alone on the eerily-shadowed redstone once more. He understood now. Although he had proved to be victorious in this whole affair, he felt every bit the failure in this operation. Clara had been injured. He'd wanted so badly to be her knight in shining armor at every moment he could: this is what bowtie had initially become infatuated with, saving her in the nick of time…but this face had competed with a lover, and lost on the grounds of emotional comfort. Of words, and of physical contact. The most basic things. He was not cut out to be her knight after all, and the truth of this blow made his hearts heavy, his knees weak. He tried. He always tried, and would never stop. The adventures had become all he had to offer…
As he sulked to open the doors, he looked back, realizing Clara had materialized on the grates as he surfaced from his own thoughts. Turning away in shame of his detachedness, he stepped outside to face the patronus man.