“The guards had asked the Doctor to please wait in the hallway until Mr McCavity had time to see him. So it seemed only polite, the Doctor thought, to wait until they had gone before he wandered off to explore the house.”

“The Doctor snorted. 'Wimp!' He squared his shoulders and turned towards the fire, grinning. 'Race you.' And he was off, running. Jack hesitated, sighed, swore, and ran after him. Levin and Krylek, Catherine and the villagers stared after them in astonishment. Two dark figures running though fire...”

“The Doctor's plan, such as it was, was to escape from Barinska without being shot.”

“Strax gave a snort of amusement. ‘It is surely a very simple choice. One option is for a quiet life with honest work amongst other humans paying a living wage and with prospects of promotion within a distinguished household. The other... ‘ He drew himself up to his full height and looked up at them, ‘is the prospect of constant danger, fear and risk. No chance of ever seeing your friends again, or making new ones. The knowledge that death waits around the next corner and you are unlikely to see the end of the next week without at the very least a serious injury. A glorious alternative.”

“And yet it was also true that the tumor could not be removed by our doctor, and as a result of that a strange medication had been given him that enabled my brother to become even more of an enigma than he was before, and as a result of that there came to exist not only the machine and the inertia that came with it, but a change of perspective among the townsfolk that was a result of their interactions with the various phases of my brother. And so it was that when the flood began to rear its terrible head, not only was there the inertia that we all had to deal with, but a sense of the sublime that we had begun to feel for the waters which had roared upon the horizon.”

“Explain,’ the troll hissed.‘Explain what? I was just…’ Harry pointed back the way he’d come. ‘Let me go, please, sir. I won’t breathe a word about what I seen. Not about you nor the dead body.’‘Explain the dead body,’ the troll said, shaking Harry so violently that his teeth rattled. ‘It’s a body,’ he said when he could finally draw breath. ‘And it’s dead. A woman, in a coat, bleeding.’‘What colour fur?’ the troll demanded.‘It’s not fur, it’s probably wool.’The creature’s eyes narrowed even further. ‘Not the coat,’ it rasped. ‘On its head – what colour was the fur on the female’s head?’Harry frowned, struggling to understand. ‘You mean her hair?’‘Hair, fur, protective cranial grafting – whatever term you use on this primitive planet. What colour was it?’‘Sort of… brownish.’‘Brownish.’‘And quite long. I think.’ Despite the tight grip that the troll maintained on his shoulders, Harry managed to get one hand up high enough to show how long the dead woman’s hair had been. ‘About this long.’The grip on his shoulders loosened and Harry felt himself sag. Then he stumbled forwards under a near-crippling slap on his back.‘Good lad,’ the troll said. ‘Your observational skills are adequate. You would make a good forward sniper.’‘Oh, um, thank you, sir.’ Harry swallowed. ‘Can I go now?”

“He ain’t my friend,’ Harry said. ‘Not no more, he ain’t.’Strax leaned across to Jenny. ‘At what age do these cubs become grammatical?’ he demanded.‘Depends,’ she told him. ‘At what age do Sontarans become pacifists?”