4 - The Abandoned Signalbox

Content Warning: Contains suggestions of depressive and hypersensitive mindset.

Truro once again found himself in the black void.

"No, no, not again," he muttered as he saw felt the presence of black smoke near him.

This was another night terror, he knew that. He ground his teeth angrily and tried to remain calm and steady but he was struggling.

He felt the very familiar tendrils of the Black Smoke begin to creep over his boiler and into his funnel, slowly freezing the water in his boiler and causing pain to explode over every inch of his engine.

"Stop it," City of Truro begged desperately. "Please just, leave me alone! Mallard is dead and gone!"

A cackle erupted around him and he winched upon recognising who it belonged to.

"No stop it! This isn't funny! Why can't you leave me alone?!" Truro screamed at the darkness. He wanted Scotsman, he needed his soul to rescue him from this hell. "Scotsman!"

"Always calling out for your precious Flying Scotsman," a voice tormented him mockingly.

From the darkness, a human figure appeared and Truro stared at him in horror.

It was an extremely tall man, similar in height to the impressively tall Olivia Gresley at almost 7 feet. He was dressed in a familiar shade of blue, his uniform well-kept and proper like an English gentleman. Long brown hair fell around his shoulders and his eyes were a piercing ice blue in colour. He was a lot bulkier and taller than Scotsman's human appearance and his face was sharp and pointed.

Truro did not have to guess who this apparition was. He knew just by looking at him.

"Mallard…" Truro gasped, his voice barely audible to even himself. "No… get away, get away from me!"

Mallard laughed a familiar horrifying laugh and Truro felt ready to fall into despair.

"Why can't you leave me alone?" Truro pleaded with the apparition of Mallard as it advanced towards him, a viscous smile upon his face.

"Oh little Western, how could I leave you alone when your fear and your terror tastes so sweet and makes me stronger?" The ghostly Mallard laughed and as he came within reaching distance of the elder Great Western a cutter's torch appeared in the man's hand.

"Oh look," Mallard grinned motioning to the tool in his hand. "I brought you a present."

"Stop it!" Truro screamed at the apparition. He began to hyperventilate as fear as his mind suddenly began to grow darker and darker.

"Truro!"

A voice in the distance called to him but he could barely hear it.

"Truro! It's alright! It's just a dream," the voice called to him again but the freezing cold pressing on him from all sides was relentless.

He whimpered and closed his eyes, desperately trying to block out all sounds, sensations, feelings, everything.

Everything was too loud, and his mind felt confused and filled with thoughts like a busy beehive. The sensations and noises whirl around him in a confusing and sickening mess.

"Truro!"

"Scott?" He croaked out weakly. "Is that you?"

An orb of Gold Dust appeared before him and he felt Flying Scotsman's soul trying to reach out to him.

"Scotsman!" He made for the gold orb, ignoring the cold trying to stop his wheels from turning. He heard somewhere behind him, Mallard yelling angrily, furious that his quarry was escaping.

The orb seemed to swell in size and cause the darkness surrounding him to flee in fear and terror and Truro himself was consumed by an all-encompassing light that warmed his boiler and protected him from the darkness that was hunting him.

It felt like Flying Scotsman's soul was shrouding him in a blanket of sorts, making him feel safe and loved.

"Scotsman?" He asked hopefully, hope against hope that Scotsman would be there to ease his anxiety.

"It's okay Truro, you're safe old friend," a woman's voice called to him kindly.

City of Truro suddenly gasped and immediately began choking, Lady Olivia Gresley stepping away to give the Great Western some space to compose himself as he regained his bearings.

Slowly the poor engine, trembling from wheels to boiler regained his senses and looked around to find Lady Gresley standing to his side, a concerned look upon her face as she watched him carefully. Behind her, Great Northern stood diligently, hands crossed behind his back, his expression stoic and still but watchful.

"Lady- Lady Gresley?" Truro asked confused.

He looked around, Scotsman's soul had been right there. It had been him who had pulled him from his nightmares. He had heard his voice, it had been his gold dust, his soul that had pulled him out of the darkest depths.

"But, where… where is Scotsman? His soul- it pulled me out," Truro stammered, his voice timid and frightened like a child's.

"Well," Olivia began and she held out a small golden object strong on a braided chain necklace. "Part of his soul did."

Truro stared at Lady Olivia and what he recognised as a Golden Whistle. A rare and special gift that was only ever granted to those who had earned them.

"You have part of Scotsman's soul," Truro realised. "So Scotsman is not here?"

Olivia stepped forward and placed a hand on him gently.

"I'm sorry Truro," she explained regretfully. "He's celebrating his 100th remember?"

The City of Truro cast his eyes away from her and lowered them to stare at the floor.

"Truro," Olivia suddenly said sternly. "I know that you've said that you're okay but I'm not stupid. I've noticed that you've become a lot more nervous and skittish over the past few months since Flying Scotsman left for the mainland. North had to come and get me because he couldn't wake you from your nightmare."

Truro sighed. He couldn't hide his slowly disintegrating mind any longer.

"Yes ma'am, I am… not in the best of mental states right now, I will admit," Truro claimed softly. "I am… I have never dealt with this type of thing before, at least not this bad. I apologise."

"You don't need to apologise for anything Truro," Olivia smiled at him kindly but Truro only stared at the ground clearly dejected.

"I know what happened with Tydfil and Arrow is also playing on your mind," Olivia continued. "I think you need to be with someone you can confide in."

Truro looked up realising what Lady Gresley meant.

"You're sending me back to York ma'am?"

"Yes," she nodded at the engine. "I think that you could benefit from being with Scotsman."

Truro felt conflicted. He was overjoyed at the chance to be with Flying Scotsman again after many years of not being that close to each other and the entire incident with Mallard.

On the other hand, his thoughts turned to Tydfil, the young engine in need of guidance.

"Young Tydfil still needs a mentor, ma'am," he pointed out. "And my place in the museum needs to be fulfilled here on Sodor."

"Well I'm not sure who Mrs Parsons is sending to replace you from the Great Westerns but we have been talking about your replacement here in the museum for a while now," Olivia remarked and Truro fancied himself curious.

"Who is it, ma'am?"

"A little surprise for Edward, I think you'll find."

Truro raised an eyebrow.

"Old Coppernob?"

"Old Coppernob."

Green Arrow was awoken by a familiar voice rousing him out of his sleep the next morning. Wearily he blinked the sleep from his eyes to find that most of his frame and boiler were numb and parts of him still mangled.

"There ye are, good morning to ya!" Duck's voice had a smile to it and Arrow looked over to find his friend sitting before him as he sat in the works.

"Duck! Hello!" Green Arrow was surprised but elated to see the little Great Western Pannier tank. "You came to visit me?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I want to check on my good friend?" Duck chuckled.

"Crovan's Gate is on the other side of the island for one," Arrow pointed out and Duck rolled his eyes.

"Not too far for a friend," Duck smiled and Arrow felt a warmth despite his paralysis. "You gonna be alright there?"

Green Arrow looked down at his buffers.

"I hope so, they say it isn't as bad as it looks," Arrow explained nervously. "I'm getting repaired thanks to your controller. It could be worse, I might not have been repaired at all."

Duck gazed at Arrow sympathetically. It must have been hard for the poor engine, not knowing if he'd be repaired if he was caught in an accident. To be locked in a shed because you no longer worked or your owners couldn't find the funds to repair you. Duck couldn't imagine the fear and stress of something like that.

"You're one of the hardest workers on the railway Green Arrow. Sir Topham sees you as one of his own engines," Duck assured the V2. "You have a place here and a lot of us accept you now. You've proven yourself."

Green Arrow stared at the ground but then smiled.

"I still feel like an outsider sometimes, especially after how I came here," Arrow mumbled. "But I always felt that way, even on the LNER back in the day. Sodor… it feels like a home. Thank you for being my friend, Duck."

Duck just chuckled.

"Yes well, a friend of Truro is a friend of mine," he claimed cheerfully. "And besides, you're a bit of a legend these days. Even Gordon is secretly impressed by you."

Arrow's eyes lit up at the sound of that. It would certainly explain why the big engine was now not giving him glares every time he saw him or making the odd snide comment behind his tender.

"Wait what? What did I ever do to impress him?"

"You single handily fought off Mallard," Duck reminded him. "An A4 Pacific is an extremely strong and powerful engine, yet you fought him off."

Arrow frowned. Duck was right he noted. That could be considered impressive.

"I did it for Truro," Arrow admitted. "He would have been devastated if Scotsman had been destroyed. And I had my own beef with Mallard, you know?"

Duck sat contemplatively for a while.

"I didn't want to bother you with my concerns Arrow," he finally said after a long while.

Arrow gazed at the Pannier curiously.

"About what exactly?"

"About City of Truro."

Green Arrow frowned and looked thoughtfully at Duck.

"Funny, I was going to ask you if you could do me a favour concerning him," Arrow mused and Duck looked surprised.

"So you've noticed how he's changed too?"

"He's a lot more nervous and skittish nowadays," Arrow explained. "He's become a lot more reclusive and he's having constant night terrors. I think Mallard kidnapping him really got to him."

"It's not like Truro at all," Duck agreed sadly. "I want to help him but I feel like I would be speaking out of turn. He is a high-class engine after all. One of the highest."

"Regardless of his rank in the Great Western Railway, he's still a person," Arrow pointed out. "I've tried to talk to him but he just won't open up completely to me, he's a very private engine."

Duck and Green Arrow sat silently for a long while, the air heavy with tension and electrified by their worry for their friend.

"What about Edward?" Green Arrow suddenly suggested out of nowhere.

"Edward?" Duck asked confused, not understanding what Arrow was suggesting.

"Every time I've had a problem, I've gone to Edward and he's helped me," Arrow explained. "I know that Edward doesn't really know Truro but we could at the very least try. Edward always gives the best advice and he's a kind old soul. He'd maybe understand."

Duck stared at Arrow, thinking over his idea.

It could very well work. Edward was an older engine, even older than Truro. The Great Western's respected engines elder than them greatly.

"It may very well work," Duck theorised. "But I guess we'd have to ask Edward about it."

The two engines beamed happily at each other, confident in their little plan. It may not work, but it gave the two friends hope for the friend they both cared deeply about.

"So I hear Truro is getting thrown out of babysitting duty," Clun Castle smirked as she arrived at the turntable where a myriad of engines was gathered.

Lode Star, who sat upon the turntable in the middle, frowned at her. Her calculating eyes and her judgemental expression were clear as day.

"Clun Castle," Lode Star acknowledged curtly.

"Please Lady Star, you know me! Call me Mary!" Clun Castle insisted but it only earned her a very reproachful glare from the Star Class as she stared at her with distaste.

"Do not be so flippant with our customs, Clun Castle! There are others present!" Lode Star snapped. "You disgrace the Great Western Way!"

"I am simply trying to be friendly, Lady Star, I feel you of all people are important enough to use my true name"

"Enough!" Lode Star barked at Clun Castle angrily. "One more word and I'll have you thrown from the Great Hall and made into an exhibit at Shildon! Is that clear?"

Clun Castle said nothing more and kept her mouth shut. She was privileged to be one of the few working engines. She did not want to lose that.

She eyed the other engines sitting around the turntable. The old Furness No.3 Coppernob, Duchess of Hamilton and 737 sat around Lode Star, their faces were grim and serious. Even the Eurostar and Stirling Single with her big ugly wheels were present. To add insult, the Shunting leader, Class 08 Matey was there.

She scowled as she saw Flying Scotsman sitting among the rest of the Railway leaders.

That murderer.

He never bothered with her, even when she was younger, She had tried to befriend him but the snobbish engine wanted nothing to do with her, considering her rude and insignificant engine.

The same apparently didn't apply to her brother, Pendennis though. Flying Scotsman found it just fine to be friends with him. Hell, the Scotsman liked her remaining siblings to some degree but would never bother to give her the time of day.

Clun Castle glared as the Flying Scotsman stared down at her, his usually warm and kind face was only filled with irritation. He looked down on her as if she was some kind of bug.

"Clun Castle, this meeting is not a place for you to act like a petulant child," Lode Star warned the Castle Class. "There are serious matters a foot and I will not have you make a joke of them, is that understood?"

Clun Castle turned her attention back to Lode Star who was staring at her with an unimpressed face.

"Yes ma'am," Clun Castle replied reluctantly. Oh did she hate the old crone and her rigid ways but she submitted to her, lest she be turned into a static exhibit or have her true name stripped from her.

Satisfied, Lode Star resumed her previous duties of briefing the Railway leaders on the situation.

"Lady Olivia is requesting an engine to replace City of Truro," Lode Star informed them and Flying Scotsman looked unimpressed.

"I very much doubt that," he said coldly. "Lady Olivia knows of City of Truro's history training up young Great Westerns, it wouldn't make sense for her to pull such an experienced engine."

Coppernob snorted.

"Or maybe that impulsive brash engine had enough and asked to be transferred back," the red Furness engine scoffed.

Flying Scotsman glared at Coppernob.

"I've told you many times old man, Truro isn't like that anymore!" He snapped back at him. "Why do you insist on continuously harassing him?"

"You young man are just as bad as he is! Always wandering off and causing your owner's money problems and grief!" Coppernob huffed. "No wonder you two are sharing a shed."

"How dare-"

"Enough!" Lode Star snapped at the both of them. "There are no other Great Western engines available to travel to Sodor. The other railways are either using them or they do not trust the North Western to look after them considering everything that happened with you."

Lode Star looked pointedly at Flying Scotsman who gave her a sheepish and nervous chuckle.

He certainly had caused his fair share of mishaps in the past few years he did have to admit that.

"So what do you propose?" Duchess of Hamilton asked with an irritated glance at the two bickering engines. "The museum sends one instead?"

"Yes," Lode Star answered bluntly. "Or at least, one leant to us."

"Send King George, he'll teach her well if a bit more brashly," 737 suggested.

"King George is on loan to Didcot while King Edward the First serves his punishment for neglecting Lady of Legend and trying to destroy the City of Truro," Lode Star explained and Flying Scotsman's expression twisted into one of pure anger.

"He did WHAT?" Scotsman shouted in complete shock. The City of Truro hadn't mentioned anything of the sort when the two had reconciled after the events with Mallard on Sodor.

Lode Star raised her eyebrow at the Scotsman.

"I'm surprised Truro didn't tell you," she questioned bluntly and Scotsman frowned.

"He did not mention anything of the sort."

"He was probably worried that Scotsman might kill him just like he killed Mallard," Clun Castle sneered at Flying Scotsman catching the attention of everyone present.

"If you have something to say to me Clun Castle, say it to my face instead of making stupid remarks behind my tender like a coward," Scotsman snapped at her, fed up with the constant remarks about him.

"Yes Clun Castle," Lode Star agreed. "If you have a problem with someone here you discuss it in a professional manner and not constantly make childish remarks at people as you always do. You've been warned about this behaviour before and I will not tolerate any more interruptions! Interrupt again and I'll send you out and deal with you later!"

Clun Castle fell silent. She had no evidence, only rumours to back up her claims that Flying Scotsman had murdered Mallard. Rumours from an upset Union. She said nothing, the glare of the Museums leading engines staring deep into her soul.

"Why did you even bring this engine in here?" 737 snapped with a glance at Clun Castle. "Time and time again she has proven herself to be nothin but a nuisance!"

"She is here because she is the only option the Great Western's have to send to Sodor to look after Lady of Legend," Lode Star explained and the leaders of the museum looked appalled.

"Surely there must be someone else!" Coppernob exclaimed flabbergasted. "You surely can't be considering sending someone so immature and childish! This is a disgrace!"

"I agree," Lode Star exclaimed pointedly with a glance at Clun Castle who glared at them but on the inside she was elated. Finally, some new engines to play with. A new young engine that would be her friend.

"Utterly preposterous!" 737 muttered and Hamilton gave a hum of agreement.

"That is why the museum is sending Coppernob to replace Truro in the Sodor museum at Lady Olivia's request," Lode Star explained. "You are to keep an eye on Clun Castle. Any word of her being a nuisance to the Sudrian engines and she will be sent the Shildon as a display engine."

"A display engine?!" Clun Castle screeched but was ignored as the engines glanced at the elder Furness.

Coppernob had a mixture of emotions going across his face but they appeared so fast that no one could recognise them.

"May I ask why me?" Coppernob grumbled. "Did Olivia give a reason? Why not Sir Winnie? Or Scotsman since he loves the Island so much?"

"Winston is busy at Shildon, you know how important he is," Lode Star explained. "And Scotsman has his Anniversary Tours."

"Look on the bright side old red," Scotsman pointed out. "You can visit Edward and Barrow-in-Furness."

Coppernob gave a soft hum and glanced at Clun Castle.

"I suppose you are correct," the old red Furness grumbled. "I do hope that Edward's been keeping the Sudrians in line. I would expect nothing less from a Furness."

There was a murmur of agreement from the other engines.

"Then it's settled," Lode Star ordered with a tone of finality. "Clun Castle with teach Lady of Legend the ways of our railway and if she displeases Coppernob, she will be sent back in disgrace and have her name stripped from her."

"My name stripped from me?" Clun Castle asked horrified. She didn't want her name stripped from her. It meant that she would become nothing, a cursed engine in the eyes of the Great Westerns and their crews. No one would drive her, she would be abandoned, left to rust.

"That's right," Lode Star leered over the Castle class. "I trust that's enough of a threat to curb any unpleasant ideas you might have?"

Clun Castle looked down at her buffer.

"Yes ma'am," she answered curtly and Lode Star looked pleased.

"Good," the Star class smiled for the first time since the meeting had started. "I do not want to enact such extreme measures but do well and we shall see, Clun Castle."

Clun Castle was sitting in a siding, getting washed down for her trip to Sodor. The sunlight gleamed off her newly polished coat and she shone like the diamond she thought she was. She closed her eyes and dreamt of the Sudrian engines all swooning and complimenting her and her magnificent coat.

She did not want to go to Sodor but it was a little island that didn't know of her and so she could be free to do as she pleased so long as it did not catch the attention of the low IQ of these engines who had probably never seen an engine as magnificent as her.

Even if her brother had been to the island, they had never seen an engine quite as polished and remarkable as hers. There was the issue of Coppernob watching her every move but the crabby old engine was slow and stupid. She could no doubt pull the wool over his eyes as it were.

She was Mrs Parsons's favourite engine after all and Mrs Parsons knew a good-looking engine when she saw one. Clun Castle was her pride and joy and that made her the most important Great Western left in the whole United Kingdom.

Why, her class even outperformed those 'hideously ugly' A1 Gresley Pacifics? How could she not be?

"Excuse me," a voice suddenly interrupted her ego-filled daydream. "I'm looking for- oh- it's you."

The voice was filled with disgust as the owner realised who she was.

Clun Castle immediately became angry and opened her eyes to glare at the offending engine. She was disgusted to find that it was the Young Iron, Tornado.

"It's you, the fake engine," Clun Castle looked upon her disgusted.

Tornado just rolled her eyes at Clun Castle and gave a tut of disapproval.

"Do you always have to be such an unpleasant old cow?" The Peppercorn asked dryly. "And you wonder why no one wants to be around such a horrible wench."

"How dare you insult me you pathetic excuse of an engine!" Clun shrieked shrilly, hurting Tornado's hearing and making her winch.

"My mistake, horrible witch," Tornado corrected herself and Clun Castle made a strange screeching sound to which the Peppercorn only rolled her eyes at.

"I am not a witch!" Clun shrieked.

"Then stop acting like one," Tornado muttered as she dismissively rolled past her in search of whatever she was searching for. "Stupid old cow."

Clun Castle huffed steam and glared at the retreating Peppercorn's tender.

Once the stupid Tornado girl would cry or tremble in fear at the sight of Clun Castle as she should but now she simply ignored her and dismissed her like the others. It would not stand.

Clun Castle would not tolerate such disrespect any longer as she sat in her siding brewing in her anger.

Maybe she could influence Lady of Legend to not be such a horrid engine.

Lady of Legend was a Great Western after all.

It would be good to have a Great Western by her side and to give her the respect she deserved.

Clun Castle closed her eyes and went back to her delusional daydreams.

"How ya doin' Gordy?" Came the loud Australian greeting as he waited for his express early the next morning. "Bit chilly this morning isn't it?"

Gordon glared at the large green engine.

He did not like this Grey. Her attitude, her bluntness and her straightforward candour.

"It's Gordon, not 'Gordy'," he snapped but still the Australian Pacific wasn't even bothered by his aggressiveness.

"I'm just trying to be friendly mate, no need to be so nasty."

Grey raised an eyebrow at Gordon not even bothered by his rudeness. If anything she just looked at him thoroughly amused by his antics which infuriated him even more.

"Well, use my name properly!" He scolded her and Grey just grinned at him.

"Alright calm down there Gordon," Grey joked. "Top Hatt said I was gonna take the express today, is this where I pick it up?"

Gordon immediately grew angry.

"I pull the express on Sodor!" He snapped and Grey chuckled.

"Really? I thought Thommy did?" She asked innocently and Gordon looked just about ready to blow his safety valve.

"I'm joking! I'm joking!" Grey quickly exclaimed with a laugh. "Got a couple of bolts too tight haven't ya mate?"

Gordon wheeshed steam at her but Grey only laughed at him.

"Alright I get it, you don't like me," she called out to Gordon. "That's fine. Not everyone likes me, but Top Hatt was very insistent that I pull the express for some reason. I don't see what the fuss is honestly, it's just an express."

"Just an express?!" Gordon thundered, gobsmacked by the engine's sheer dismissiveness. "The Wild Nor' Wester is the most important train on the entire island!"

Grey gave a snort of laughter.

"Hah! No, it's no more important than the trains that bring vital supplies to the island just like any railway," She remarked. "What would you do if the trains that brought the diesel or coal to the island ran late? Lemme tell you something Gordy, an express is important to 'people' but people need supplies just as much to live their lives and do their jobs. You cut them from that and suddenly things start to be put into perspective."

Gordon glared at the emerald green engine.

He was furious.

How dare this foreign engine lecture him! He'd been pulling his express for the better part of 100 years. Him! The best engine on the island of Sodor.

He didn't care that she was a friend of his brother's, he wouldn't tolerate this disrespect.

"Don't lecture me on how a railway works! I've been pulling trains longer than you have!" He snapped at her. "I very well know how it works and I don't need some stupid, fancy streamlined upstart from a country no one cares about telling me how to do my job!"

"Gordon!"

The big blue engine's anger almost immediately dissipated the second he heard the Fat Controller's shout. He glanced over to find the man, disapproval and shame written all over his face.

"Gordon I have told you many times not to act so abrasive and rude to visiting engines!" He chided the engine.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," Gordon looked at his buffers shamefully.

"In his defence sir," Grey suddenly spoke up. "I was antagonising him a little. I guess he just ain't used to how upfront us Aussies are. I'm used to being boisterous with my mates back home."

"That does not excuse Gordon's behaviour," Sir Topham insisted. "Apologise to Grey."

Gordon looked over at Grey who was sitting there, some sympathy in her eyes along with mirth.

"Sorry… Grey," Gordon told her awkwardly.

"No worries mate, it's all good," Grey beamed at him. "I'm sorry too, I'm not used to all your mannerisms yet. You lot are all so polite and proper."

"Regardless, you still have an express to pull," The Fat Controller beckoned to her to couple to the front of the express that Thomas had just shunted together for her, his face beaming.

"Here you go, Ms Grey!" Thomas chirped happily. "One express ready for expressing ma'am!"

Gordon humphed, knowing Thomas was being extra polite to the visiting engine just to piss him off. Grey however was eyeing the back of the train nervously.

"Uh, where's Gold?" She asked and Sir Topham gazed at her.

"They're out helping Ryan and Daisy at Harwick," he explained.

"Oh."

For the first time, Grey's cheery disposition disappeared and there was fear in her eyes.

"So I have to pull the express without a back engine?" Grey asked and Sir Topham nodded.

"That's correct," he clarified. "The Wild Nor' Wester does not need a back engine."

Gordon scoffed.

"You said you were an express engine," Gordon exclaimed snidely. "What sort of express engine needs a back engine?"

Grey frowned at him.

"Alright tough guy, you just settle down now there," Grey huffed at him. "Don't you get all condescending with me!"

"I'm surprised you even know such a big word with how you speak," Gordon scoffed and immediately regretted it when he saw Sir Topham's face. "I mean, good luck on the express, Grey."

Grey gave him an unimpressed look before the guard's whistle blew and she suddenly blasted Gordon in a huge cloud of steam before blaring her whistle and moving off with the express.

Thomas' laughter rang out across the station as Sir Topham coughed and turned away, trying to hide his laughter.

"Oh the indignity!" Gordon lamented but he was ignored.

The lake in the valley had grown considerably over the past few weeks, he had noticed. The snow that had fallen on the rolling hills had started to melt and slowly filled the lake as its ice turned to back into the water.

The little abandoned and dilapidated signal that he had found in the woods to serve as a home did little to keep the cold away but somehow he was used to it. It didn't bother him, even when it was below freezing.

He could be naked and the cold didn't affect him at all. He never got hungry and he didn't need water. He knew that for a human being, this was exceptionally odd. So he came to the conclusion he wasn't human. He didn't know what he was.

He looked out of the windows, the glass in it broken and shattered, lying in pieces all over the floor, the old signal switches rusted, vines that had grown on the side of the building had crawled over them.

Old abandoned railway tracks that were overgrown with bushes and grass had made a good path for him to go around this little piece of paradise on the lake.

It wasn't much but for some reason, something told him that this place was important, at least to him.

He couldn't remember much of anything before waking up in the middle of the woods, what seemed like an eternity ago. He just knew that he had wanted to be here, in this forest with the birds.

He turned away from the window and picked up the little bag he had made from some old hessian he'd found lying about. It was nearly evening and the wild birds would be waiting for food he'd collected from the bushes and trees around the lake.

He knew that the birds could just as easily find the food themselves, but he wanted to befriend them and be a part of their community in a way.

It had been quiet though, not many birds were around in the winter, except for some very curious and clever ravens who had instantly taken a liking to him and brought him gifts of pennies, bottlecaps and a large array of blue things.

The Ravens often enjoyed his company, fearlessly entering the signal box and spending time with him. He appreciated them greatly.

To his delight, the ducks and other waterfowl were returning to the lake for the Spring.

The little shelter he had made for some of the birds had been claimed by a couple of mallards much to his enthusiasm.

He was about to go and check on the shelter and make the trip to the lake's edge to visit the mallards when something shining in the evening light caught his attention.

A glimmering gold substance appeared as dust floating in the air over the old railway tracks.

He frowned and pulled his little hessian bag closer to him.

Maybe it was a couple of the local boys fooling about again, their flashlights giving themselves away.

He grits his teeth and set his brow to an angry glare. He'd dealt with these boys before and he would do it again.

No one entered his little piece of paradise and disturbed his birds.

He stormed down the staircase of the signal voice and squared himself up, ready for a fight.

To his pleasant surprise, he found no other people in the clearing, only a strange cloud of golden dust that seemed to give off a warm glow.

It felt familiar somehow.

For a while he stood in a trance-like state, staring deep into the golden dust as it seemed to beckon to him, draw him closer.

He suddenly snapped himself out of his trance-like state as he caught his hand reaching for the dust. He scowled at the gold dust and stepped away before waving his arms erratically, trying to get rid of it.

The golden dust seemed to hang in the air for a long second before it faded from his sight, leaving him standing in the middle of the old railway tracks.

He frowned.

Whatever it was, it felt as if it would cause trouble for him and his birds.

He wanted no part of it.

At least for now.

Turning away from the spot, he marched onwards towards the edge of the lake. He was already late in feeding the ducks and they would be unhappy and annoyed at him and would make their displeasure known by nipping and biting him.

He for one did not want to upset his precious mallards.

Grey anytime Gordon is nearby: How annoying can I be? Grey's not even trying to be all that antagonistic, she's just bewildered at how uptight Gordon is.

Losing your true name essentially renders you 'dead' in the eyes of others on the Great Western Railway. A nameless engine is a cursed one and no one wants to crew a cursed engine should a terrible fate befall you.

For updates, extra lore or to ask questions or discuss the fic, you can find me on tornadoyoungiron tumblr

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