‘I’ve discovered a lot in the last few weeks,’ Smith began. ‘I’ve found out that being the Doctor… it’s not about having special knowledge or abilities. It’s about not being cruel. It’s about not being afraid.’ He walked into the middle of the clearing, searching for the right words. ‘There are monsters out there, yes. Terrible things. But you don’t have to become one in order to defeat them. You can be peaceful in the face of their cruelty. You can win by being cleverer than they are.’ He turned back to Bernice. ‘I tried to give up so much⁠ — my responsibilities, my past, my guilt. But others kept these things safe for me. Now, for one last time, I, John Smith, will be the Doctor again, and go on an adventure, and defeat the monsters. It doesn’t take an object to let you do that. It takes determination. And hope for humanity. And love.’

Benny went to him and held him. ‘What you said about sacrifice, John. It doesn’t have to be like that. There’s always another way.’

‘Not this time.’

‘I just don’t want anybody to have to die. Hadleman, my old Guy, Rocastle. Poor Constance. But especially you. Both of you.’

‘Then let me do this, before more children get killed.’ His words seemed quieter somehow, as if they were coming from a distance, part of the whole distance of the glade. When she came to write this section of the narrative up for her diary, Benny felt that she was somehow writing fiction.

Especially considering what happened next.

She stepped out from the trees, a beautiful dark-haired woman. ‘John…’ she called.

Smith and Benny turned and stared at her. ‘Verity,’ said Smith.

August stood by the door of the dome, gazing out into the darkness. ‘It is quite a beautiful world, don’t you think, son? I like the trees particularly.’

Hoff ducked his head outside and looked. ‘Hmm. Trees are trees. I’m worried about Greeneye. Don’t you think we should have bargained?’

‘And gone back to square one? No. Once we’ve got the Pod, we’ll rescue him. Oh, and talking of which⁠ —’

A small, shadowy figure was making his way slowly through the forest.

Hoff picked up his gun and went to stand beside Joan. She had been sleeping fitfully, but now she’d woken once more.

‘You know, you really could come to some kind of accord with John,’ she said.

‘He’s a good man. We all feel for our own kind. Perhaps⁠ —’

‘Shut her up,’ August snapped.

Hoff slapped a dart into Joan’s neck and the woman froze, breathing shallowly.

The figure in the darkness approached the dome. To the east, the sky was blue, and a prickly expectation was settling on the forest, the calls of waking birds mingling with the departing sounds of night hunters as the sun rose.