Pristine white snowfields stretched as far as the eye could see, swept by the wind but otherwise completely unblemished. It was beautiful, in a cold, bleak sort of way, and Martha couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer grandeur of the landscape. Surely nothing could survive in a place like this; in fact, life had probably never had the chance to evolve.
She said as much to the Doctor.
“Oh no, it’s inhabited, but it’s the middle of winter. Everyone around here hibernates until spring.”
“How long before they wake up?”
“About another five hundred years, give or take.”