On the first anniversary of his death River Song stood silently at the small cairn, remembering.

What strand of fate had whisked them to this place some three summers ago? They had landed in the Swamplands and, as they explored their immediate surroundings, the magnificent machine had slowly sunk into the mud, never to be seen again.

The local villagers welcomed them into their community with a remarkable lack of curiosity.

A small farm was generously put at their disposal as well as a plot of land.

They had worked it, with some success. Becoming part of the community. Living simple, fulfilling lives and with eyes only for each other and the future.

Then came that fateful day when they had been picnicking in the foothills. Laughing as usual. Then the sound of thunder. Only there had been no thunder.

With astonishing speed he had pushed her aside just before the landslide struck.

River had run screaming to the village for help and he was solemnly carried back to their little farm, grievously injured.

For two days and two nights she sat holding his hand, watching him struggle against his terrible pain. Then, as she awoke from a snatched, fitful sleep, there came the time when the pain had gone and his face was peaceful.

He turned to her and spoken quietly. He told her how, in times past, he had a trick to cheat death but he had used it a dozen times already. He had played all those cards.

He asked her to fetch something from his little cupboard. He made her promise to keep it safe, close to her. River looked at the ornate fob-watch with its distinctive patterns and promised him.

He told her that she would bear him a son. She was a few weeks pregnant. He could feel it. Two hearts. He held her hand as she trembled at the news. The boy would himself father a child one day. A girl. He made River promise that the girl should be named 'Susan', a name River had never heard of before. She promised.

His voice weakened. He told her that he loved her. Finally, he told her his name.

She kissed him on the forehead and their tears mixed as he died.

He who had risked his life saving races, planets, galaxies and even the Universe itself, had given it up just for her.

A whimper from the babe in her arms brought River back to the little cluster of stones that marked his grave, under the glorious striated sky. She unconsciously patted the fob-watch hanging at her belt.

As the sun sank over the Boeshane Peninsular, River whispered comforting words to her baby son.

"There, there, my little Jack. Hushabye."