Rose Tyler is twenty-five when the Bad Wolf stirs.
It comes to her in dreams mostly. Yellow eyes staring back into hers, rough fur sliding across her skin and low growls mingling with her screams.
Her mum finds her in the kitchen in the darkest hour before dawn and softly kisses her forehead.
“Can’t sleep?” she asks softly.
“No,” Rose murmurs
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Comments 17
Is there any hope for more? *puppy eyes*
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And I don't think so, but thank you so much for asking!
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Great plan :)
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