One day, Edward was in the sheds where he lived with the other dogs.

Now, who the hell is Edward?

Well, take Gordon, make him slightly smaller, more shy and slightly weaker, and change his eyes from blue to hazel and you've got Edward.

The dogs all boasted about how they were bigger than Edward. Every time they did, Edward couldn't help but think to himself:

Well, James, Thomas. You're smaller than me shut your fucking mouths. Gordon and Henry? Yeah, you can shut the fuck up to, you're bigger and I'm smarter. I'll outwit you in a battle any day! Your size and strength will only make it harder to stand when you fall! And Gordon, who's to say, seeing as James is your brother, that your fur is the only thing giving you size, huh?

Edward growled to himself, sheathing and unsheathing his claws.

"The Fat Controller won't choose you again," taunted Gordon, "He wants big, strong dogs like us!"

But the Controller's two aides felt bad for Edward. One stepped close to him, and scratched under his chin.

"Would you like to come out today?"

Edward growled, snapping his head away from the man's hand, and running off behind him, across the turntable to the shunting yards. It was something to be away from humans, he supposed.

The thing about Edward was he despised working with humans. Despised pulling their luggage around. Despised pulling medicine carts.

Despised humans themselves.

Maybe he was so salty with everything because of his bullying, he'd never know. He was fine with hating the Island's main race. It got him out of doing work involving them. The Controller knew he'd bite a bitch if they rubbed him the wrong way.

Trust him, the Controller knew this well.

Edward worked hard all day, the cats on the coaches thought he was very kind in pushing the wagon-wanna-be's away. He didn't kick or buck or snap the wood like James did.

The Controller was pleased with him.

In the sheds at night, Edward sat outside stargazing.

"Going out tomorrow, Edward?" James spat at him.

"Should it matter, black-pelt?"

"That's my winter-pelt! You know that Edward!"

"It's still a black pelt, though." He blinked his hazel eyes back at the ginger tramp, "Don't think I can't feel a chill in the air, and the black furs dotting your pelt."

"Fuck you!" James howled.

"Fuck you too, James!"

Edward stayed out of the shed long after the others had fallen asleep, long after midnight had passed.

Just you wait.

Next morning, Edward found himself outside his den, his body mushed between the silver rails. Now, Edward knew he was small, but he didn't think he was small enough to squeeze in between the rails and actually not have pains in the morning.

He smiled to himself, turning his head to see Gordon grooming himself beside bare rabbit bones.

Gordon noticed his gaze, and stared back at him.

"You watch me, Little Edward. As I rush through with the express. That'll be a wonderful sight for you." And he started to walk away, "Goodbye, Little Edward. You'll see me this afternoon with my shiny express."

"Not so shiny when you're carrying felt and wood Gordon." Edward muttered, not knowing if Gordon heard him. He went off to the shunting yards, hoping one of the cats had caught him something.

You see, Edward isn't the best hunter, which is why he stays friendly to the devious cats. You befriend the cats, they stick to your side, and, they catch you food.

And they had, one of the clan had brought him a rabbit the moment he stepped into their terrain.

Yes, Edward decided, these cats are quite possibly the best friends to have on Sodor.

Edward shunted until he had arranged the cat's "sunning rocks" into an order in which they could walk between them. What a day it was to be sunning themselves. The day was warm and cloudless and the sun beat down in a cool light that mixed with the warmth perfectly.

Another cat gave him two mice for his noon-meal, and he rolled himself onto his back to sunbathe with the clan. Some small kits had even fallen asleep beside him. Edward was about to fall asleep himself, and he jumped onto a tiny pile of branches, ashes and scrap metal.

Then he heard Gordon's loud bark, but thought nothing of it, he curled his tail over his nose.

Then a horrible, hot smell quickly covered the sidings. And Gordon ran by, his face screwed up in disgust.

"A goods train! A goods train! A goods train!" Gordon howled at himself. "The shame of it! Oh, the shame of it!"

Edward snorted in laughter.

"Karma's a bitch, ain't it Gordon! Ha!"

Gordon ran faster, eager to get out of the cats terrain.

Gordon knew as well as any dog, Edward could launch an attack with his cat army at any moment.

Just as Edward tried to doze off again, there was trouble. A human came up to him, without looking up he could tell it was human. They smelled of oily fruits and dust.

"Gordon can't make it up the hill!" The man told him.

"So? Z'not my job to help 'im up the hill."

"Will you push him please?"

"No."

"We could always force you into human-work." The man bribed, so Edward stood up, swishing his tail to his feline friends, and followed the path of black something Gordon left in his wake.

He came upon the hill, and scoffed at himself as he noticed Gordon's train backed up to the bottom.

"Gordon's Hill?" Edward teased, "Should be called Edward's Hill, I'm the only one that can get up it!"

"Fuck you! Help me, goddammit!"

Edward growled, aware that no human was there to attach a harness to him. He smiled, hooking his jaws onto the piece of smooth curved wood on the back of the breaksled.

"One, two, three, go!"

So they pulled and pushed as hard as they could, Edward clearly aware that dogs would take that fact out of context, to make both tramps seem gay for eachother.

Don't get him wrong, Edward would take a tramp for a mate as would anyone with a suka, Gordon too. They only thing that kept the two blue-gray dogs from mating was the fact they hated eachother with every fiber of their being.

"I can't do it! I can't do it! I can't do it!" Gordon howled.

Edward growled to himself, howling back, the wood muffling him.

"Gordon! Shut up! Take your words out of context and shit the fuck up!"

And that did shut him up.

Soon they reached the top of the hill, and Gordon shot down, Edward half-chocked as the wood was ripped from his mouth.

"I've done it! I've done it!"

Gordon's voice faded down the hill as he ran off. He'd forgotten all about Edward and forget to thank him.

Edward expected this, nothing more. He expected nothing from any of the dogs. Only the cats he had as friends. And he slowly went back to Tidmouth, to sunbathe- and then moonbathe- with his clan for the rest of the day.

They'll help me clean my pelt tonight. Then, I'll be the smartest tramp in the shed…