Shadow of a wing (Doctor Who)

Dragon's nest

The universe is vast and full of mysteries, spread across the stars and all of time itself. It is said that there was once a race that was able to sense time. But now they are long gone and nothing is left of them but stories, whispered tales as old as the stars themselves.

There is one story that stands out of all the others. One that might have started in this place, or somewhere else entirely.

It was a rainy day. The waters of the yearly Grillbarin monsoon covered a great deal of the junk wastelands. The people of Maluchir had lived there since they could remember and even their children learned to search the waste for usable things all day.

One such a child, clad in a bright yellow rain coat, was just about to stuff an old but still functioning radio inside his pockets, when he heard an unfamiliar noise. It sounded like the huffing and panting of an old machine. A humming filling the air.

When the child turned around he suddenly faced a rundown advertising pillar that most certainly hadn't been there before, even though it fit perfectly into its surroundings. The door squeaked slowly open and out stepped a figure, clad in a long black coat that reached down to its ankles and had a hood that covered their face.

The figure was bigger than any Maluch and took a good look at the pillar they had just stepped out, before turning around and taking in the surroundings, before their gaze lastly fell onto the child.

"You're not whom I'm looking for..." a dark, male sounding voice spoke to himself. "Wrong time again." The guy kicked the pillar and cursed under his breath, then turned around again. "Ey, you!"

"M... me?" the child wondered.

"Not the brightest around, eh? You don't happen to have a Chronokinetic loaded Kolfur cable in all that junk?"

"I... I don't know what that even is, Sir." The child straightened and he looked up to the man, rain dripping down from his yellow hood. The child's face was turquoise in color and the upper half of his face was covered by a chitin plate. Only the eyes were uncovered.

"Of course not. Would have been too easy." The man kicked some junk away.

"But Mum could know. She knows the wastelands better than anyone else!"

The strange figure tilted his head and seemed to think for a moment, before he nodded. "Alright. It's a chance at least. If I can repair the winding module this journey will be over in no time."

"Great! We didn't have visitors for ages!" The child jumped up in joy, producing a big splash, when he landed back on his rain boots. He then swiftly took the man's hand and tore him along.

"Don't... do that..." he mumbled and tore his hand away.

As the child looked behind, he could get a peek at the face underneath the hood and found brown, somehow sad looking eyes there.

"I'm Chipu by the way. The oldest son of Chapputi the Wise," the boy blabbered. "Do you have a name? And what are you even? You look so different."

The man didn't answer though, so Chipu stayed silent until they reached the village.

"Welcome to Mellakar!" he said proud and spread his arms, grinning wide when the stranger let out an appreciative whistle.

They stood in front of a tall mountain which's peak vanished into thick clouds. And on top of it lay the gigantic skeleton of a Chermobol. Its wings once spread as wide as the mountain was tall, its tail lay crumbled at the bottom, serving as the hull for countless houses, as did the other bones. Ramps of wood and metal lead up and down the skeleton, connecting all the different layers of the village.