The Doctor placed his feet carefully on the icy path, clutching the embroidered bag closely to his chest. It would do no good to Padmasambhava to have given the Ghanta into his safekeeping if he didn't actually manage to get back to the TARDIS safely. After detouring around a deceptively smooth snowslide, he paused for breath, and noticed someone coming up the path towards him.
The stranger was dressed in leather and furs, with dark brown hair and an aquiline nose, reddened by the cold.
"Is this the way to the Detsen Monastery?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't go that way if I were you."
"You think you can stop me, little man?" the other said belligerently.
"I have no intention of stopping you, but if you would just listen --"
"Good," the other shoved past him and stepped straight onto the snowslide. His feet went from under him, and before the Doctor could grab his flailing arms, the man had gone over the edge in a rumble of snow.
The Doctor wrung his hands. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."
When Methos revived at the bottom of the mountain, he realized he ought to listen to advice a bit more often.
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