singillatim | i heard a scream in the woods somewhere

i heard a scream in the woods somewhere

MARCH 2025 EVENT

PROMPT ONE: THE AURORA — TERTIARIUS Enola reaches out to the Interlopers and offers them the chance to gain an ability for the third time.

PROMPT TWO: THE HUNTED, PART TWO: The hauntings of the mysterious spectral bear begin to escalate in physical attacks on Interlopers, but assistance comes from a familiar face in trying to ward the Old Bear back.

PROMPT THREE — DON'T SLEEP: A mysterious creature is attacking and killing Interlopers as they sleep. Interlopers must either cosy up with a friend, or spend the night holding a sleepless vigil in order to fight it off.

THE AURORA — TERTIARIUS

WHEN: The Month of March, Mid-March.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially disturbing dreams; themes of starvation; themes of disordered eating; themes of animal attacks; mentions of blood; themes of terror.

There has been an increase in frequency of Auroras over the month of February and into March. It is very much something all within the Northern Territories are used to, barring the newest numbers to the ranks. The noise starts: faint at first, but then growing louder. An ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds difficult to place. There’s a kind of electrical buzzing with it all, a low, endless hum punctuated with cracks and pops. The sky is alive with sound, and with it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night.

Streetlights, illuminating the town’s roads; lights in stores and homes will come alive, buzzing and flickering at times. Rotting and rusted cars, almost entirely buried in snow will turn on, their headlights blaring. Electronics that had previously seemed broken flick on — and whilst there are no broadcasts available on televisions, and the radio waves only drone on in static, with occasional emergency broadcasts somehow still going. Any computers and phones will turn on, but will have no internet or reception. Instead, Interlopers may find texts and emails — many of them unsent. The everyday lives of their users stored within, now readable.

With it, Enola can be heard. For many, this is a familiar thing — but not everyone is overly familiar with Enola. She is the First Interloper, and although she is somewhere unknown — the Aurora connects all. She can be heard muttering, distracted and exhausted. Her whispered, unintelligent words a ghostly presence over the Northern Territories.

By mid-March, on Aurora nights, you hear her calling out to you. You hear her call your name. Soft whispers on the wind that echo, she’s trying to reach out to you: “I see you. I’m here.”

On one particular night, the Aurora is particularly notable — it’s almost beautiful, even with its haunting aura. The shimmering waves of colour dancing across the skies, brighter than they’ve ever been. During this Aurora, shooting stars can be seen streaking across the skies. Sharp glints of light across the night. Interlopers finds themselves stopping to watch the shower of stars.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there. I.. I can’t leave. I have to—.” she cuts off, exhales heavily. For a long time, there is silence. Nothing but Enola’s laboured breaths. She sounds… tearful, overwhelmed.

“You’re doing so well, you know that, right? You’re surviving this place.” she tells you. “Even if I can’t be there, I’m with you. All of you.”

There is a silence for a time, long enough that it makes you think Enola has gone.

“I promised I would help you the best I can. This place… doesn’t have to take everything. This is not the ending of all things.”

She tells you to sleep. For some, they recognise this and realise what may end up happening. For others it feels like going out on a limb. But you sleep, and perhaps a dream may come to you.

EFFICIENT MACHINE: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, overwhelming for a moment before they begin to settle. You dream you are sat at a magnificent feast, the table laden with rich, exotic foods. The mere sight makes your mouth water, your stomach rumbles in protest. You have never felt more hungry in all your life, and you want nothing more than to take your fill.

You are not alone, you realise.

At the opposite end of the table sits a woman, her face shrouded from view, a crown of thorns and flowers upon her head. You cannot tell if she is old, or young. Perhaps she is both, but you feel slightly apprehensive in her presence.

‘Magnificent, is it not?’ she asks. ‘Eat, if you must. But you will hunger again, and know a time of nothing to fill your belly. You will waste away to nothing.’

You stare, unnerved.

‘But… touch nothing, and you will never understand such a pleasure again — but you will never know hunger again. You will never know thirst again. Death will not come for you for an empty belly or an unquenched thirst.’

You sit for some time, staring at the food before you. You hunger desperately, but in the end, you decide not to eat. The woman chuckles, nodding. ‘Very good, child.’

When you awaken, you feel content, like one does after a large meal. That pleasant kind of sleepiness that comes with it. You do not realise that this day will be the last time you ever feel this kind of satiated. There’s something within you that understands: you are blessed, perhaps by Mother Nature herself.

You are an Efficient Machine, and will never suffer for it in times when you have so little. Her bounty, no matter how toxic, will never harm you.

OLD BEAR’S BLESSING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of kneeling in thick woods, one you recognise to be Lakeside. You hold a weapon close to you: your gun, your knife, your bow, whatever it is you use to arm yourself in waking life. The air is alive with breathing, your heart thunders in your chest.

You feel… warm, with blood. You are injured. Sharp claws have torn your flesh, fangs have punctured you, mangled your bones. The pain is overwhelming, and you look up to a shadow of a great and terrible beast.

The Old Bear. Impossibly big in this dream, more so than the phantom that’s haunted you the past several weeks. It towers over you. You cannot win this fight. You are tired, weak and injured.

But you will not be afraid. And you keep your weapon ready.

The bear approaches you, weighted and purposeful steps to your kneeling form.

Its giant muzzle is level with your face. The moment is fraught. Its jaws open wide into a ferocious roar, and you don’t flinch away — even as you feel its hot breath against your face. In reply, you scream back. You will not be afraid.

Old Bear falls silent, salivating jaws dripping onto you. You gaze at the Old Bear’s huge, black eyes: intelligent and fearsome. The darkness in those black pools feels endless. And yet you feel… seen. The Old Bear sees something in you.

You will not be afraid.

When you awaken, you feel…. strong. Hale. Perhaps the best you’ve felt since you came here, perhaps for the first time in your life. But there’s something else, too. Something that rolls in slow waves in the pit of your stomach. Rage, some old kind of fury that warms your bones. The Old Bear has granted you a boon, a blessing. May you use it well.

DARKWALKER’S REVENGE: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape and then fade into nothing. When you look up, you are in a place of endless, impenetrable black. You are not alone. Enola stands with you, apprehension in her expression. You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. In silence, all there is the sound of your breathing, Enola’s breathing. She looks about, searching, on guard. She steps in front of you, as if to shield you.

Something is wrong.

Enola looks over her shoulder at you. Her blue eyes are sharp, fearful. She says your name softly.

Out of the dark, an invisible force grabs Enola, lifting her from her feet and yanking her backwards and away from you. It drops her briefly and she falls to the ground. You can try to chase after her, try to help her, but there is an almighty sound: as if the very earth is splitting open. Enola is dragged from you, kicking and screaming and fighting as furiously as she can.

No—! Leave them! Leave them be—!

Something shifts, and it is as if she’s being dragged down into the very earth itself. She claws, trying to gain traction, trying to stop herself from being pulled down completely and disappearing into the dark. A gigantic skeletal claw rips emerges from the darkness and her from you. She’s cut off mid-scream, horror in her eyes.

In the dark, you are alone. Or so you think.

There is the slow churning sound of bones and scattering of earth. Out of the darkness appears the violent green of three glowing wolf skulls, impossibly enormous and rising and rising and rising.

It towers above you, gargantuan and leering. The Darkwalker. The wolf skulls snarl, their jaws pulling into terrible grins. The center of its skulls opens its maw, dripping emerald mucus. It is hungry, so very hungry. And then it lunges at you, swallowing you whole with the snapping of jaws and a terrible wet sound. There’s pain, and fear. Overwhelming and all-encompassing; and the dream snaps shut as it ends.

When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach, exhausted. Perhaps even feverish. You will not be able to rise from your bed, spending an entire day sick with some unknown illness. By the nightfall of the second day, you will begin to improve and feel… stronger, somehow. Revitalised. The night is long and bitter, but you are not afraid of the dark.

But do you understand the price? Something has gone wrong. This is the Darkwalker’s Revenge. You may never know the light again.

NOTHING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, but only for a moment. The edges of your vision begin the blur with black, slowly closing in until everything goes dark and you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. You awaken, and although you feel rested, as if the dreamless darkness has helped you feel a little more ready to take on the day — nothing else about you has changed.

THE HUNTED, PART TWO

WHEN: The month of March, into April.
WHERE: Everywhere, but mostly Lakeside.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creature; hauntings; supernatural experiences; themes of hunting, being hunted/stalked by an animal; bear attacks; potential gore/maulings; potential character death; potential NPC death.

For months now, a presence has been haunting the Interlopers across the Northern Territories. At first, nothing more than footprints in the snow that lead to nowhere, shadows against the rocks that disappear when you turn around.

The Old Bear has Returned, and may you find your way far from its teeth and claws.

Out in the wilds, you will find yourself being stalked. For many Interlopers, they have been through this dance before. The prickling sensation at the back of one’s neck. The thuds of its paws in the snow approaching you, low grumblings of a great, angry beast seeking you out.

Something feels different, this time. Something feels real, weighted.

In time, the creature will be upon you — a hulking, great bear with thick brown fur, snapped arrows sitting at its neck and a strange, keen intelligence. It watches you, follows you from a distance, up high. And soon enough, it will charge.

Fleeing from Old Bear would have you running from nothing but the wind. Previous attempts of standing one’s ground and attempting to shoot or fight the bear have proved that the apparition will dissolve into thin air quicker than a blink.

But not this time. The phantom is made of flesh.

Old Bear might not kill you, but a mauling from them will certainly draw you close to death if its allowed to get at you for long enough. Almost as if it hopes the resulting injuries or the exposure will kill you. Pray that you have someone with you to help fight Old Bear off so you can escape.

And It seems as if there is very little to be done to stop Old Bear’s approach even now with it being physically able to harm you. Flames will not harm it, nor ward it off, campfires will not keep it at bay. Shooting at them will only anger him even more if it can see you. The sound of guns may keep them at bay, provided they cannot see where you are. Flare guns are effective, particularly if Old Bear doesn’t see where its coming from. Hiding in buildings is effective enough too, with Old Bear clawing at wood and hefting its great weight to try and force its way inside for a time until it eventually gives up and leaves you alone.

But there must be something that can be done to beat the ancient creature back, and there is someone who may be able to help. On occasion, Young Bill, who is out in the wilds of Lakeside, may come across you in the midst of Old Bear trying to attack Interlopers. He will help chase the bear off with the use of a trusty flare gun — with it being far better at spooking the animal off for a short time. In the aftermath, Young Bill will help tend to any injuries in a state of shock and — once Interlopers are alright — with a grim smile.

“I thought we were all just seeing things. Ghosts. But that old bastard’s still around, like… for real, huh?”

He’ll gather up Interlopers and take them back to his cabin for any further treatment and a chance to get warmed up again. He will tell the Interlopers the story of the Old Bear (for those who have yet to read it in the Camp Office) before leaving to fetch a chest from his bedroom. Inside will be a broken spear, still covered in ancient, dried blood and carefully wrapped in fabric, along with ancient blue-prints on yellowing, fragile paper.

“My ancestor was one of the hunters who went after Old Bear.” he will explain, showing Interlopers the broken spear. “This was all that was found after they, and Old Bear, disappeared out on the muskeg.”

“I thought it was all just… stories. Hunters with ego trying to stop an old bear. But… that bear shouldn’t be alive. With the way things are now, with how things are changing. I… I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“When my old man was dying, he said it wasn’t the Darkwalker that was coming for him. It was the Old Bear. Maybe he had a point.”

It makes you wonder, considering the state of the world.

“You need something that can do what bullets or arrows can’t.” he tells them, laying out the fragile blueprints on the table. “Thick steel, far better for piercing through that hide. Make one of these, and you might just have what you need to keep that thing away. Maybe enough to keep it away from you for good. I don’t know if this might work, but it’s worth a shot. And I owe you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“There’s a forge at the Maintenance Yard. I’ve used it before, the guys there would let me do work there on occasion. I think one of you guys have been in there lately. We could make some of these. They’ll last longer than bullets, too.”

At least for those inexperienced in metalwork, Young Bill will accompany Interlopers to the Maintenance Yard and get to work — guiding them in powering up the forge and getting to crafting new spears. The spears are strong, sharp and sturdy, despite their modest appearance. Young Bill checks each one, whispering something under his breath to the steel as he runs his thumb along the edge, and perhaps you may hear the words. It’s strange, they are not English, but you understand them all the same:

‘May you know your enemy.’

You may not be sure if this will work, but if the Old Bear comes for you again then you have something new to try. And soon enough the creature will come, stalking you for some time before it draws in to attack. As it charges, readying your spear by kneeling in the ground and angling it just right will give you a fighting chance of piercing through that tough hide and giving you a fighting chance of avoiding being mauled. An intense, desperate fight will ensue, but the spear proves to be a valuable asset, allowing you to fight Old Bear off far better than anything else you may have tried before now.

And sure enough, the creature will run off — leaving nothing but blood upon the snow. You won’t be able to hunt the beast down, such is not the way of things with this strange, ancient creature. But you will have fought it off enough for it to leave you well alone. Until next time, that is.

DON’T SLEEP

WHEN: Throughout the month of March.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS:malevolent supernatural beings; sleep paralysis demons-esque creature; themes of hauntings; themes of peril/terror; death of npc interlopers; possible character death; supernatural death; possible sleep deprivation.

Something attacking the Interlopers in the dead of night. Perhaps there are whispers of it amongst Interlopers in town, utterings in conversation. A bad night’s sleep, a terrible dream. A monster in the corner, and being powerless to move against it.

A shadowy presence in the room where you sleep. Distant, in the corner of the room: something impossible tall and human-looking. Watching you. The first night it does nothing but watch from its distance.

The second night: it is closer. You still can’t quite pick out the details of it other than the bald head and unnaturally long limbs as it towers over you, bent to loom close.

The third? Well. Those affected don’t speak of the third night. The dead don’t speak.

Checking on neighbours, it will be uncovered that some of the Interlopers have been killed in their beds. Investigations of Interloper homes will turn up showing no sign of a break in, nor will anyone note anything out of ordinary on the nights that these Interlopers die — no screams, no signs of a struggle, no assailant running off into the night.

But it is clear that something is killing people as they sleep each night — often targeting Interlopers who live, or sleep alone.

As for the poor Interlopers themselves who are found dead the next morning, or after, their bodies will all show the very same injury: a strange depression in their chests. Anyone who wishes to look further than and perform some kind of post-mortem or autopsy will discover that while there has been little damage elsewhere in the torso, the heart has been completely crushed.

Something, some kind of… supernatural being, perhaps. No man nor beast could perform such an act.

Understandably, Interlopers will find themselves too terrified to sleep. What if whatever this is comes for them too? While they sleep? It means some long nights of sleeplessness ahead, until someone works out what to do here. The only problem is that people need sleep to survive. The body requires REM sleep in order to function, and the odds are already so terribly stacked again Interlopers without the preciousness of sleep. Sleep deprivation can be potentially devastating. Those who fell victim to the Glimmerfog last year will know only too well about that.

There are a couple of options of what to do, it seems.

Interlopers can avoid meeting a grim fate by sharing a bed for the entire month. There’s strength in numbers after all.It might be a little awkward, all things considered. But what’s a little awkwardness in the face of possibly dying horribly by some terrible creature? Bunking up with someone might be a decent idea of keeping yourselves safe — and also keeping yourselves warm, considering current state of the world and winter’s grasp clinging so tightly despite the coming of Spring.

Another option is to hold a vigil for another Interloper, to allow them to sleep for the night whilst you keep watch. Whilst this may be extremely difficult for some, it might just be enough to ward the mysterious being off from coming after Interlopers as they sleep. It’s entirely possible that the creature may actually still come for the sleeping Interloper — and will finally be revealed to the one keeping watch.

The being is nude, tall and pale, something possibly human-like but with little in terms of distinguishable features. Its face is nothing more than a warped, eyeless mask and an open, circular mouth of teeth, and with long, spindly limbs and clawed hands and feet. It’s a terrifying thing, and it may still attempt to come for the sleeping Interloper, clambering along the wall and dropping onto the bed, making to attack.

The creature can be scared off by the one standing watch by even so much as a firm word, let alone a physical attack — and it will be enough to scare it off from both the sleeper and the watcher for the duration. And it truth, it will work — while the being may continue to go after other Interlopers for the remainder of the month, both the watcher and sleeper will not be troubled ever again.

FAQs

THE AURORA — TERTIARIUS

1. The final three Aurora Feats are now unlocked! Please see the following page for more information. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

2. Interlopers will only receive ONE Aurora Event. The only time this is available is this month. After March, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

3. Now that all Feats have been revealed, the game will hold further events with three Feats chosen at random until the Endgame.

THE HUNTED, PART TWO

1. The spears don't appear like much, nor do they appear like they will do much damage — but are incredibly sturdy and strong. Is it magic? Belief? The power of folk story? It's hard to say. But there's something about them that is incredibly effective in dealing with Old Bear.

2. Interlopers are allowed one spear each.

3. Interlopers can make an additional spear to bring back for a friend who might not be present.

4. The language Young Bill speaks to the speaks is one native to the game-world and thus fictional. However, those familiar may note similarities with the languages of the indigenous peoples of Canada.

DON'T SLEEP

1. Interlopers who are haunted by the creature and spend a single night sharing a bed with another will find that they will 'reset' their hauntings but there will be an additional day added. Their next night alone will be uneventful, the second will have the creature appear at a distance, the third will have the creature closer and the fourth would be the day they would be 'caught' by the creature and killed.

2. As Community Hall is a bit of a grey area considering Interlopers are sleeping 'alone together', it is player choice if the creature targets them or not if they choose to sleep there.

3. The creature will attack Interlopers whenever they are sleeping, regardless of the time of day.

PLOTTING POST

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Thomas sags against him in relief, not speaking again until they've reached his destination.

"You should - tell her where I am," he finally says. "Or she will tear this place apart looking for me. I don't know if that's something anyone wants."

He's careful as he helps to settle Thomas in his bed, mindful of his healing wounds while he gets him carefully propped up against his pillows.

"I'll tell her," he promises, lightly patting his cheek. The linens will be a mess, but the blood is mostly dry now and quite frankly, the Doctor can't be bothered worrying over it. He just wants Thomas settled and resting for now, until they can manage a full bath.

"Though she's welcome to redecorate in the meantime," he can't help a bit of cheek, even now. Truthfully, a moment to sit with Thomas and rest himself is appreciated. "Sleep a bit and when you wake, I'll clean you up and I'll have already handled Wynonna. Not to worry." He promises, shifting to stroke his fingers through his hair now. Though, he only pauses a moment before he gets up again, warming up a bit of water quickly, and using a warm compress to clean up some of the blood on his forehead.

Thomas settles onto the bed, secretly relieved at how much pain the Doctor had taken away from him. It means that he can settle and rest and close his eyes without feeling the ache and the throb of his leg and his wounds.

"You can't sit still even to stay with me here," he murmurs and there's nothing but love behind it. He knows that he's nervous and worried for him, and that he needs something to do.

For once, Thomas is going to allow it.

"Not another word out of you until you've slept," he gently chides, a fond teasing note in his voice. He uses that compress gently, cleaning him up of the blood on his forehead. Then he sets it aside, letting out a breath, reaching out to simply fuss with his hair and stroke his thumb across his temple.

He'll settle when Thomas has settled.

He turns into his touch, closing his eyes. "I am glad you are here," he tells him before he drifts off into a fitful, though deep, sleep.

Caretaker is a role he's taken on before, but only very loosely and usually in short spurts. This is altogether different, but then, everything with Thomas is and has been altogether different for him. It's nothing like any kind of life he's ever really allowed for himself or sought out.

Thomas needs him now, while he heals, and he's happy to be here, wants to be here, wants to stay close for anything at all.

When he's sure Thomas is sleeping about as well as he can for now, only then does the Doctor allow himself some measure of rest in turn. He helps to get him clean when he wakes, and doesn't hesitate to fuss after him, to keep him taking it easy while the worst of everything heals.

It's also an opportunity to finally bake fresh bread for him, after he's healed more. It's not the most abundant feast by any measure, but there's at least the bread and jam and some smoked meats. For the next few weeks, the Doctor seems to fall into a routine with it — despite living separately, he makes it a point to stop by regularly in the mornings to start the day, armed with fresh bread and jam. So today it's much the same, and the Doctor knocks on Thomas' cabin door, a loaf a bread in a basket, along with a small container of mashed berries.

The routine is nice. It's beyond nice. It's - soothing in a way. This place has become riddled with unknowns and frightening surprises, but the bread and the jam in the mornings is something he can look forward to.

The company is nice, too.

He's healed up well with only a scar to show for it, but he returns to his normal activities for a while. Finding traps, setting them again, all the things he needs to do.

Until the day Fitzjames delivers damming news and Thomas can't be bothered to get up from his chair when the Doctor knocks.

"Come in," he calls out instead, mustering the energy for at least that.

He's the worst sometimes at noticing something's wrong initially, but this time, it doesn't take terribly long for it to click, perhaps because of how connected he is to Thomas these days. Considering all he gets in response to his knock is Thomas calling out to him. He'd wonder if perhaps his healing injuries had taken a turn, but there might be something more dire in his voice then.

This just sounds — well, he steps inside, looks for him quickly, moves towards him, at the same time he queries, "Are you okay?" For lack of a better way to start that; he seems anything but okay.

Thomas has one foot propped up in the chair, looking far more casual and yet, far more tense, than he has in a while. The Doctor is a welcome distraction, though, and he reaches up and out for him, cupping his face.

"No," he answers honestly because there's no point in lying. "Captain Fitzjames was just here."

His hand moves to cover one of Thomas' for a moment, easing down to sit near him. Any other time, he'd excitedly mention having run into Captain Fitzjames recently, but now is very not the time. He at least recognizes that.

If Fitzjames was here and Thomas is...as rattled as he seems, then he wonders — well, context clues and all that.

"What's happened?"

He grips his hand tightly, almost too much so. "Crozier," he says and his voice fails him. It cracks and it shatters and he takes a deep breath to regain himself. "And Raju." He pauses. Starts again. "Captain Fitzjames found their bodies. In the snow. It seemed like some sort of animal attack."

Oh, no. That was the sinking dread that was starting to creep up the minute Fitzjames was mentioned. He'd hoped it was — anything else. After everything...this?

Gripping his hand tightly in return almost feels like not enough at all. So he kisses his knuckles briefly before he moves to try and hold him instead. "Thomas," he lets out a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry." At the same time, he feels his own ache at their loss. Thomas' connection to Crozier makes it all the more heavy. For the short time he knew them, the Doctor had thought so well of them, and he'd hoped they might have been able to hold onto something here, especially when he thinks of what Raju had shared in the cave.

Thomas hasn't been held like this in so long that he feels almost silly for it. Almost. Instead, he curls into the Doctor's arms, like a child, like he's lost and there's nothing left in the world.

"I cannot...it is hard to believe. I thought I would feel differently. I thought I would feel - angry or sad."

His arms envelope him securely, one hand moving to nearly cradle the back of his head, like he might be able to protect him from all of it, everything.

"What do you feel?"

"As if it was all a dream," he confesses, unafraid with the warmth of the fire, leaning against him. "As if it was all simply hazy and...and numb. Like the way you feel when you stand out on the lake for too long."

"As though it never happened," he breathes out, not quite in agreement, but in understanding. "But they were here, and we laughed together, and shared together, and now they're gone." Like everyone, and it all just slips away, and it makes him hold Thomas just a bit tighter.

"They were and they're gone and I have...never lived in a world where Francis Crozier does not exist," he says, staring at the fire. "He was alive when I was born and he was alive when I...before I came here."

He isn't dead. Thomas isn't dead.

"He told me stories as I lay so weak and still. And I was not there for him."

God, those words — he can feel them inside. That Thomas doesn't know a world without his Captain, couldn't have ever imagined it. And here they are still, somehow, and Crozier is gone.

He's just guessing from his own experiences that there's little comfort to be found in assuring Thomas it wasn't his fault he wasn't there. He knows that. He couldn't have guessed what would happen. The pain of not being there in spite of that all doesn't just fade with a few simple words.

"What would you have done or said, if you had been there? Stories — the very same as he'd done for you?"

"The stories did more than keep me company," he tells him softly, staring deep at the fire. "They reminded me that I was not alone. If the story is what he needed to not be alone, then - " He shakes his head. "Then I would want to do that."

He squeezes his eyes shut as tears, cold as ice, finally slide down his cheeks.

Grief, he's learned, is never linear, and never typical, and always different for everyone. The way it surfaces and the way it's felt doesn't follow any exact course. He's felt loss so often and so deeply, and every time, it's different. But he's tried before, holding it back, or feeling it, and he'd always prefer to feel it, all of it, no matter how hard. And all he wants to do now is feel it with Thomas, to be here for him and with him through it in every way that he can.

"No one better than you for that." For feeling not alone. For the care and companionship he gives so freely and steadily to the ones he loves. But now his Captain is gone, and the Doctor pulls Thomas a bit closer.

"Have you been — where their bodies are buried? I could come with you, Thomas."

"No," he says with a shake of his head. A firm shake. "No, I haven't been able to. I just learned. And they're all the way over in Milton, by his home."

And his home...which is empty now. Vacant and spacious.

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i heard a scream in the woods somewhere

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skipping time!

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