Blekinge this time.

The Doctor’s face had reverted.

“More over here, Mystic Girl. Let’s see, 3 snowballs, another Santa hat, smaller this time — or *normal* sized, I should say — and then, um, what appears to be some kind of tinier, more menacing looking snowman, frozen of course, like the rest.”

“But I don’t think it is possible he’s the culprit for all this. Do you?”

No, Mystic Girl thought without answering, because she was always silent. A mere sounding board for him, as both agreed to, even though *he* didn’t remember. She created him so that he would forget things like this — the important stuff. Like their children Luther and Wanda. Like the end of a world. *Their* world.

They moved back to the excavated grave.

“This is simply just terrible, Mystic Girl. I hope all the families of these victims can be found.”

—-

Nearby, Jeffrie Phillips, wearing his special red tie, reads a book describing the murders in detail and understands this rogue yeti must be stopped at all costs. Even if it means the end of a world.

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