I'm so sorry for not posting anything in so long; school's taken up most of my time. I really hope you enjoy.
She saw them coming from a mile away. They'd started out as just little blobs, indiscreet, normal blobs, but as they'd gotten closer those blobs had taken shape. His dark hair, his lanky body and his purple suit all started to take form.
But she barely recognized him. Of course, she'd always recognize him, but so much of him had changed in the face of a few hours. Dried blood clung to the edges of his mouth and ran up his cheeks; his clothes were also splattered with the liquid, which oddly enough was essential to life yet now only signaled death.
That was the stench that surrounded him. Death.
Rotting. Yes, that was what death smelled like. As if, life was simply rotting away. But this shouldn't happen to him, she thought. But she knew it was true, once the stench of death clings to you, it never lets go. She'd smelt death many times before, but never on him. Never on the Doctor.
But how much of this man, who approached her now, was the Doctor? He looked like him, but what of the blood? The extreme paleness? The hunger and pent up aggression that seemed to emanate from him? And the death?
Wrapped in her thoughts, she hadn't notice them arrive at her door. The desperation in his eyes, in his companion's eyes too, told her all she needed to know. She was their last hope, because this man, whose identity she had questioned only moments ago, was quickly becoming just what his stench suggested.