“What is it, River? Is it the Artifact?” Borusa quails hoarsely, standing upright against the spiral winds of the now-dissipating temporal storm as they recede down the cliff.
River Song looks up; her fingers garble on the shiny, pill-shaped object long and large and rounded in her hands while she checks it absently for catches, like a Chinese box.
Then, as she looks at Borusa shivering and tall at the cliff-top, she says, “You know, I don’t mean to sound like him but you should really get down from the precipice; we don’t know if the tear they entered is keyed to contact with the object or not. Best to come away from there.”
Borusa shrugs her off with white bare shoulders, lifting one albino deer claw to the bottom point of her crystal head as though grasping her chin in thought. Soon she turns, and pitches her senses down the steep cliff, where the slightly-sunken floating tree, pulled in by the residual forces of the gravity well, is bumping away from them at venerable speed. She says, “Judging by the fact it’s still in your hands rather than down the cliff, and the further fact that we are still standing, I suspect that is not the case. Besides, I rather feel safer here, as though whatever caused the storm has ceased for good. And isn’t that an odd thing? I don’t….know why I said that. Never mind.”
River stares at her, peeking for a moment, before catching herself. Then she casts her eyes away and smiles down at the silvery case in her hands, saying, “You know, I’m already getting a signal. Whatever it was blocking our sensors, you were right; it’s gone now. We should call ahead so we can rendezvous with Jack. Borusa?”