Arms and legs flailing wildly, Romana fell...  Her hands grabbed a bush, growing from the side of the cliff.  It pulled away, but her fall was slowed a little, and the next bush she caught hold of held, though she could feel it beginning to loosen...

Her bare feet scrabbled desperately against the rock-face below her, feeling for a hold... and she managed to get the toes of first one foot and then the other into a crevice of rock.  Cautiously, she put as much of her weight on them as she dared, in an effort to take the strain from the little bush she was clutching.

Clinging precariously to the cliff face by fingers and toes, Romana threw back her head and screamed, 'Help!  Please, someone help me!'

The only answer was the crashing of the Waves on the rocks far below.


The Doctor, the real Doctor, not the false shape that had lured Romana into such danger, was stretched out unconscious on the fallen altar-stone in the Circle.

A semi-circle of robed figures were grouped around him, De Vries in the centre.  'Bind him to the Stone.' ordered De Vries.  Two robed acolytes hurried to obey.

Carefully De Vries put a bronze bowl on the stone beside the Doctor's head.

Another robed figure approached.  It was Martha, the High Priestess.  'I don't like it!  You're not really going through with this?'

De Vries's face was rapt, his voice a hypnotised drone.  'It is the will of the Goddess.'

'It's murder!'

'We may not oppose the Goddess's will.'

'Think,' urged Martha.  'Think what you're doing!'

'The Cailleach demands blood.'

'She's never demanded human sacrifices before.'

De Vries looked anguishedly at her.  'I dare not oppose her will, Martha.  I dare not.'

'If it is her will, why isn't she here?'

'She will come.  The Cailleach will come.'

'This man may he missed.  He'll have friends, they'll tell the police...'  Martha was close to panic.  She was a local schoolteacher, and she had joined the cult because of her friendship with De Vries, and because the Druid rituals and sacrifices-brought some colour into a very dull life.  But she was no criminal, and she had never expected to be faced with cold-blooded murder.

De Vries was too far under the influence of the Cailleach to be reached by reason.  'He will not be missed.  The Cailleach will have foreseen everything.  We must have faith.  She will come.'

De Vries lifted the great curved knife from the altar and leaned over the Doctor's recumbent form.