"This is Dorelle's house," he explains, as they cross the fence-line of a squat lodge. "It'll be whale soup. How are you with eating, anyway? I forgot to ask."

"Eating is fine," she replies. "Digesting… less good."

"Oh. Well, that's quite disgusting," he continues, making a face. "And totally not worth it for whale soup. But she does get quite cross if people refuse her hospitality."

"I'll manage. Is she related to Doriel, by any chance?"

"Her son, the harbour captain. Ah! He gave you a lift here. Good man."

He pushes open the door to the cabin and she is enveloped in welcome warmth. An enormous range occupies one side of the building, in front of which a woman is cooking. She must be at least a foot taller than Clara, and built to Venus of Willendorf proportions.

"You're back then, Old Fool," says Dorelle, without turning around.

"Yes," replies the Doctor. "They're well at Holdfastings. The baby came fine. I bought a visitor, by the way."

Dorelle turns, and Clara finds herself under uncomfortable scrutiny; the woman's green-eyed gaze piercing.

"I knew she'd be beautiful."

"Is she?"

"Old Fool, don't try my patience. You're a strange man, but a man nonetheless. Does she eat? She's nearly as scrawny as you are."

"Doctor?"

"Ah, she's just saying you're very welcome," he lies. "I've warned her about your cooking, don't worry."

"Shoo!" Dorelle returns, flicking him with her apron. "I've fed seven healthy children and two husbands on this broth."

"I remember."

"You've known each other a long time," Clara hazards.

The Doctor nods. "Since she was a little girl."

"What are you telling her?"

"How we met when you were a little girl."

"Lies! I was never little," Dorelle says this to Clara, who looks inquiringly at the Doctor.

"She was just saying how grateful she was that I pulled her from a crevasse and fixed her broken leg before she was eaten by ice bears."

"Don't believe any bullshit about ice bears and broken legs," continues Dorelle, "I'd never have been on the glacier in the first place if it wasn't for this idiot."

"Thank you Dorelle," he says expansively, "that's a lovely thing to say."

"No it wasn't," laughs Clara. "I like her." She accepts her bowl of promised soup and takes hearty spoonful.

It is the Doctor's turn to grin. "Horrible, isn't it?"

Clara forces herself to swallow. "Delicious," she lies.

"Whale soup," says Dorelle, "Tastes bloody awful but it puts meat on your bones in this frozen wasteland of a place. Ah, if you'd only come in winter. I'd have made you a real feast back at Halinfijord." She turns away, eyes misting.

"She's sad," says Clara.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she's never going to see me again and we've been friends a long time."

"What?" She can barely hear him over the sudden ringing in her own ears. "Why?"

"I'm leaving."

"Now?"

"Yes."

She tries to keep the note of panic out of her voice. "But I only just found you."

His eyes dart left and right, awkward. "Well, I was rather hoping you would come with me."

"Oh." Realisation dawns and she blushes fiercely. "Sorry I- I should give you guys some time—"

"Stay. Finish your soup. It's the least you can do for her."

She does as he asks, as Dorelle and the Doctor talk quietly. To her surprise the giantess responds to the empty bowl by hugging her fiercely. "I know you'll look after him," she says, "You've the same sadness in your eyes. Fare well, Wandering One."

Clara steps outside, giving them a moment of privacy. When the Doctor finally joins her in the cold twilight there are tears on his cheeks, but a look of resolve she knows too well.

"It's not far," he says, holding out his hand.

In fact, it's about twenty minutes of steep climb, to a short plateau that offers a spectacular view. Clara can just make out the twinkling lights of a village, a long way away.

"Circles are always on the high ground," she says.

"Are they?"

"Because you come up where you can see them, don't you? Before you leave." He shrugs, confirmation enough that she is right. "Where are we going, Doctor?"

"Nowhere yet," he replies gravely. "I want you to take a deep breath."

"Why? I don't need oxygen."

"No, but I know you. You'll have something to say." He grins.

"There's no air on the other side?"

"No yet."

"Okay."

As she fills her lungs he turns away from her, hunching slightly. Seven stones slide up through the snow, limestone slates that glitter blue. "Ready?"

She nods and the world seems to fall away from her feet.