He was squatted down, elbows resting on his thighs and hands half over his face, peering at the tree he and the Master had turned silver. It was a bit more silver that it had been, gleaming in the sunlight. It wasn't the problem. The problem was the squirrell that was sitting, upright on it's haunches, a few feet away from the Doctor, chattering angerily. It was a problem because it was orange - really, really, orange- and its tail was rainbow striped.