The woman sat on the rock and dreamed.
I stood on the edge of the cliff, looking out over the ocean. Below me, on a large smooth rock by a sandy pool sat the woman.
She gazed out over the ocean, and dreamed.
She dreamed of a man, a traveller and adventurer, a man of passion who believed in justice and freedom and wasn't afraid to fight for what he believed in.
Despite that he was a man of peace, who loathed violence for the sake of it and hated killing of any sort.
He was a man of great wisdom, a man of learning and wit, a scholar and a gentleman. He liked company and was never alone for long in his travels.
He had visited many strange places, seen things that were almost beyond imagining, done things that seemed impossible. He had lived many lives, made many friends and many more enemies.
I turned from the cliff edge, leaving the woman to the rock and the ocean.
The wind ruffled the woman's hair and she dreamed.
The man had been old once, long ago. Then he had been middle aged and now he was young, with expressive grey eyes that spoke of a thousand years of experience.
He had duelled with demons and danced with angels, played bluffs and taken risks, saved civilisations and doomed worlds.
He had walked in eternity, tinkered with time and cheated death.
He was a man of countless talents, limitless experience and amazing luck.
The woman sat on the rock and dreamed.
She dreamed of the day the TARDIS materialised on the sands behind her and the Doctor invited her to join him.
