Meanwhile, on the Skarloey Railway, it was far too late to be awake. Peter Sam was sleeping peacefully, dreaming away, when suddenly, his dream was interrupted.
"Grandpuff! Grandpuff?"
Peter Sam's face tightened, and he looked bothered in his sleep.
"Grandpuff, where are you?"
It was his own voice, echoing and bouncing in the open air. The sounds of his pistons firing away and steam blasting from his funnel filled the air. The place looked very, very familiar. It was his old railway, but now, it looked quite different. The rails beneath him groaned and creaked in agitation at the weight they were being forced to carry for the first time in ages. His whistle blasted, and the sound warped and bounced all around.
"Grandpuff! I came back! I promised you I would, I'm back!"
He came to a stop, steam hissing and billowing from his cylinders. It was eerily quiet, with only the sounds of crickets in the grass and wind in the trees. The moon's ghastly glow lit up the desolate railway, causing shadows to dance and sway.
"Are you there?"
He had whispered, no reply coming but his own echo, growing fainter and fainter. He bit his lip and puffed towards the old shed that they'd shut Duke in so long ago. The door's hinges were rusted and brittle, and the door's paint was peeling off, exposing the rotting brown wood underneath that striped the door like scars. He puffed up to the door, pushing on it as hard as he could. The hinges protested, screaming in agony as their rusty parts were being forced to move and grind against each other. Finally, they gave way, and the door flew open with a deafening groan.
It was dark inside the old shed, but stranger yet, it was empty.
"D-D-Duke?"
He stammered, looking for the engine that wasn't there. The air suddenly went cold.
"Duke! Where are you? I came back! Please!"
Peter Sam awoke with a jerk and a gasp. He panted as he gazed around, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness and making out the silhouettes of the other engines in the pale moonlight. Peter Sam gulped and breathed heavily, his wheels still shuddering a bit from his fright.
He took a deep breath, "You're fine, you're fine, you're fine," He whispered to himself, though a part of him felt as though he were lying. "It was just a dream. That's all. Just a silly dream, nothing to get worked up over. Peter Sam was beginning to calm down, and the knot in his pipes seemed to have gone away. Peter Sam knew it was far too late to be up, and that he needed to go back to sleep. He closed his eyes, and counted sheep, but Peter Sam was restless now, and couldn't seem to fall asleep no matter how hard he tried. Every time he did try, that dream would whisper again in the back of his smokebox.
"I came back!"
It made Peter Sam shudder a bit, and he knew that this was going to be a very long night for him. He puffed forwards and out of his shed, feeling that he needed some fresh air. He stared up at the stars with a sigh, hoping they would make him feel tired. But they made him feel much, much differently. As he stared, a feeling of melancholy filled him. As he was thinking of why that could be, a memory randomly resurfaced.
"Duke," Stuart whispered. "Duke!"
Duke grunted and opened his eyes.
"What do you want Stuart? It's almost midnight." Duke yawned.
"I know. I can't fall asleep."
"Try counting sheep."
"I already did! Nothing's working. I'm just not tired."
Duke thought for a moment.
"I think I have an idea for you," Duke said. He looked up into the night sky. "Whenever I want to fall asleep, I just gaze up at the stars and see how many of them I can name."
Stuart was a bit confused, but looked up as well.
"Those three stars in a row are Orion's belt," Duke said. "And the whole thing is Orion the Hunter, can you see it?"
Stuart squinted.
"Oh, yes!" He gasped. "I do! I do!"
"And that backwards question-mark one?"
"Yes, that one over there?"
"That's Leo, the lion."
"I see," Stuart whispered. "How about the spoon shaped ones?"
"The big and little dipper. At the end of the bigger one, see that one very bright star?"
"Yes?"
"That's the North star. That's how lost travelers find their way home."
"Oh my," Stuart said in amazement. He let out a yawn. "Stars are very interesting."
"They are. Aren't they Stuart?" No reply came. "Stuart?"
Duke looked over. Stuart's eyes were closed, and he had fallen fast asleep.
Peter Sam felt a wave of sadness wash over him as he looked up at the stars. His boiler suddenly began to grow tight again, feeling as though it was twisting itself into many knots. Hot tears sprung to the corners of his eyes. In his attempt to stop himself from crying, Peter Sam let out a slight whimper, trying to push his feelings down deep where he could not find them. But it was a fruitless effort, and he felt a tear slide down his face and drip onto his buffer beam regardless.
More memories flooded Peter Sam's mind and he could recall every one of them. He remembered every track, every stone, every nook and cranny, and every sight and sound of his old railway in stunning detail. He felt even more grieved, knowing that he would never see his old railway the way it used to be ever again. And Duke, poor old Duke, Peter Sam knew he'd never see the splendid old engine ever again.
Peter Sam cried for the death of his memories, and he cried for the death of his past.
