One moment the TARDIS is comfortably trotting along under some trees, and the next she's bolting to the side a split-second before she even realizes what has her suddenly terrified. But then it sinks in - the unmistakable, hair-raising stink of antitime. And not even so much a stink as thorns against her mind, here in the telepathic current.

No. It can't be. How could it-- she's prancing and throwing her head around, panicking before she can stop herself, and it takes another moment before she spots the form associated with the presence several trees ahead.