"Rose!" The Doctor called out into the thick, roiling mist that had suddenly befallen the peaceful and sunny seas-side bluff.

"Rose!" his voice did not carry as far as he hoped, the fog absorbed everything, every light, every sound.

He stopped for a moment and listened, not with his ears, no, that would have been useless. He stretched his awareness as far as he was willing to go, scanning every bit of landscape as he went over it. He found and old and tired tree, three mice, a pigeon and a nest of snakes, but no Rose. Frustrated he pulled back into himself.

There was one alternative left. Actually no, there were three. But the TARDIS was well over a mile away and therefore not an option, especially if Rose was hurt. And he didn't want to be chasing time lines, he'd be of no use drained.

That left him with the last option. Slowly, the Doctor lifted his head to the wind and took a deep breath. It was a crude and somewhat undignified method, but he could not argue with its effectiveness: the sharp scent of humanity easily distinguished itself form the brine and sand and muffled humidity of the fog.

He had found the trail, all he had to do was follow it, now that he was paying attention, it was frightfully easy. He noticed that Rose's own scent was mingled with fear such that she practically painted a bright neon trail behind her. That worried the Doctor, Rose was strong, something terrible must have occurred for her to be this scared.

"Rassilon!" The Doctor swore as he came across an area so saturated with primal fear it had felt like hitting a brick wall.

He scanned the area, the fog made it hard to see, but he could make out an irregular depression in the ground. Pushing the pungent air to the very back of his mind, he approached the object of his curiosity. It looked like a crushed football, the insides were oozing a sticky brown liquid. He collected some on his finger and tasted it.

"Psychotropic." He muttered to himself, not entirely pleased with his findings.

Acting on a hunch he stepped towards the other side of the apparent fungal growth.

No trace of fear, yes worry, yes uncertainty, but no fear.

Brave human bluster on one side, pure and primal desperation on the other, psychotropic fungus in the middle…

He'd been going the wrong way.

Feeling rather foolish, he turned around and picked up the trail again, this time certain he was heading towards his companion.