That vague ticking feeling he’d shared with Clara intensified inside of him, but no, it wasn’t ticking. It was pounding. Just like the pounding of hooves in that nightmare he couldn’t seem to shake. Hurry, hurry. Don’t let it be too late. He spun around, running his fingers through his hair, gripping his head.
Could it be he's somehow an incarnation of John Whitfield? and Clara too since she feels the same ticking and hooves the way Jonah did?
