Chapter Text
EXT. PENDLE HILL - DUSK
On a barren hill, the sun setting in the distance, everything incredibly still. A grand manor - a tad out of place - lies a little further up the hill, towering over the humble Lancashire countryside with its ostentation.
Wide shot as the TARDIS materialises on the hill next to a blackened tree stump. A slight breeze picks up, rustling the grass - the only thing that appears to be alive on the hill. The distant sound of a dog barking emanates from the treeline below. The TARDIS doors fling open and RYAN stumbles out, followed by GRAHAM. The two look around, confused.
GRAHAM
This don’t look much like Liz’s coronation, Doc.
RYAN
Yeah, thought there’d be more music, or a party...(he looks around, puzzled)...or literally anything.
YAZ coolly steps out of the TARDIS.
YAZ
Buck up, just another adventure waiting to happen.
RYAN
(sighing)
Don’t start, you’re starting to sound like her.
RYAN gestures towards the TARDIS, out of which swaggers the DOCTOR, already acting as if she owns the place. She takes a whiff of the fresh country air.
DOCTOR
Look at that, I got the year right!
The DOCTOR drops to the ground and takes a few blades of grass between her fingers, rubbing them, inspecting them. A moment of contemplative silence, then the DOCTOR sniffs the grass.
DOCTOR (CONT’D)
...Think I got the country right too - England.
RYAN
Two right? (Snorting) That’s an improvement.
YAZ gently shoves RYAN, who cracks a smile.
The DOCTOR places a blade of grass between her teeth and nibbles. Then another, and another. The fam look on, astonished, puzzled.
DOCTOR
Yep, England! Definitely Lancashire - has a much more earthy taste, something in the chloroplasts...I had a friend from here once - well, Blackpool specifically - but she was brilliant; very brave, totally wonderful, she was my... well, anyway, it’s her fault I now have a bit of a troubled relationship with ravens, unless they’re Scottish, then they’re ju -
YAZ places a hand on the Timelord’s shoulder, stopping her ramblings in their tracks.
DOCTOR (CONT’D)
Right. Lancashire.
GRAHAM points to a hill over the valley: ominous, like a sleeping giant.
GRAHAM
Is that Pendle Hill?
The DOCTOR assesses their surroundings, taking it all in. She starts to nod.
DOCTOR
I think so. (She puts another blade of grass in her mouth and munches)...Definitely, yes! Ten points to Graham O’Brien!
A tiny ember of jealousy flickers over YAZ’s face. The DOCTOR leaps up from the ground a little too fast, grabbing onto YAZ’s arm for support.
GRAHAM
(beaming, to RYAN)
Grace and I walked the Pendle Hill witches trail. Did it in an afternoon too, fastest walker in England, your nan was.
At the mention of Grace, RYAN stiffens a little. GRAHAM tries to put his hand on his grandson’s shoulder, but RYAN smiles politely.
RYAN
She was.
A beat. Muffled barking in the distance.
DOCTOR
Can you hear that?
The barking noise grows closer. It’s ferocious, intimidating, hungry. The fam look around for the source of the sound.
Suddenly, YAZ points to a small figure approaching at lightning speed from the house up the hill.
YAZ
There!
RYAN
(a little squeaky)
What is it?
YAZ turns to him slowly, sarcastically.
YAZ
It’s barking. What do you think it is?
RYAN’s eyes widen.
RYAN
Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Cool.
The boy takes an almost imperceptible step back.
YAZ
Are you...?
The figure approaches. The DOCTOR’s eyes are fixed on it.
DOCTOR
(passively, her mind elsewhere)
...Yaz, don’t make fun of Ryan, you don’t know his story.
RYAN stands a little taller, nodding through the fear. YAZ leaves RYAN’s side, a slightly sour look on her face hiding her amusement, as she goes to the DOCTOR.
The figure approaches, bounding, angry, a machine of destruction...a dog (or, so it seems). A grey mastiff (or is it?) is now in full view, baring its teeth, barking, running like the wind towards the fam. RYAN takes a small step behind GRAHAM, who looks at him sympathetically. The busy fam doesn’t notice a figure emerging from the manor in the distance behind them, slowly making its way towards the travellers.
YAZ crouches to the ground, lowering herself to the level of the approaching (alleged) dog. The DOCTOR goes to stop her.
DOCTOR
Wait, Yaz, I -
YAZ
Shh, it’s okay, Doctor. I know what I’m doing.
A moment of tension as the (potential) dog nears the group, showing no signs of slowing. Extreme close up on Yaz’s eyes - so gentle, generous. Extreme close up on the (so-called) dog’s eyes - ferocity relenting slightly. Yaz reaches her hand out in front of her. The DOCTOR flinches but does nothing, trusting YAZ’s instinct. RYAN and GRAHAM screw their eyes shut. Yaz smiles softly. The dog (or not) slows to a halt in front of the group. GRAHAM opens one eye and, the coast clear, nudges RYAN, who opens his. The (apparent) dog looks the fam over, baring its teeth. It snarls.
YAZ
(so softly)
It’s okay.
The (purported) dog, wary, takes a small step forward.
YAZ (CONT’D)
It’s only me.
Tentatively, the creature approaches YAZ’s hand. The fam watch on, enthralled. The (supposed) dog takes a sniff.
A beat. Everything is still. On the fam, frozen.
YAZ (O.S.) (CONT’D)
(laughing)
Stop!
On YAZ, the dog (is it?) licking her hand vivaciously. YAZ, chuckling, runs her hands over the (alleged) dog’s head.
The fam sigh in relief. The DOCTOR takes the sonic screwdriver from her pocket, scanning the creature. Satisfied, she nods.
DOCTOR
Not an alien, we’re alright. Just a dog.
YAZ looks at her and grins. She turns to the (confirmed) dog, scratching behind its ears.
YAZ
You’re a good dog, aren’t you?
The DOCTOR puts her hand on YAZ’s shoulder and crouches down to her level, gently running her other hand over the dog’s back. She looks at the creature, smiling, then looks at YAZ, her smile widening, her chest swelling with pride. YAZ turns to look at RYAN.
YAZ
Ryan, it’s okay - look, they’re so friendly!
RYAN smiles politely.
YAZ (CONT’D)
Do you want to come and say hi?
RYAN
No, no...it’s okay. I’ll say hi from here.
YAZ, unperturbed, turns back to the dog, who is now almost grinning at all the attention. The DOCTOR’s brow furrows.
DOCTOR
Who looks after you, eh? Who’s your master?
A beat.
BECKA (O.S.)
(from behind)
That would be Mistress.
Startled, the fam leap around, face-to-face with Becka Savage, landlady of Bilehurst Cragg.
BECKA (CONT’D)
Now, what are you doing on my land?
Everyone turns to the DOCTOR. On the Timelord’s wide eyes. They chuckle sheepishly.
ROLL OPENING CREDITS