Work Text:
Donald watched, completely enraptured, as his Driver and Fireman made snowball after snowball. The freely fallen snow along with the current weather, had made the snow the right kind of sticky. The kind that made it so that it would keep its shape but wasn’t slush. And as they were waiting for Douglas to return, they – meaning his crew - had the time to play with the snow until the other’s return.
“Well,” began his Driver. “What do you think?”
Donald regarded the two dozen snowballs that lined the old stone wall, each and every single one of them in the shape of a little duck. Each one was the same as the next, and as white as the snow around them. But every single one of them was adorable and every single one reminded him of a very special duck.
The Scottish engine smiled, his firebox radiating a warmth that wasn’t all from his fire that was burning. “Adorable.”
His crew grinned and his Fireman nudged his Driver with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Told you it was worth the extra pounds on shipping.”
His Driver rolled his eyes, but the smile showed no annoyance before he went back to making another snow duck. Donald watched as another little duck joined the others on the wall before turning his attention to the bright yellow contraption that was making the snow ducks.
It was snowball making, much like the ones used by the schoolchildren to make the perfect snowball but this one made the snowballs in the shapes of ducks. Donald had been confused when his Fireman had pulled it out of his backpack and the man had explained it, or at least tried to. It had made much more sense when his Driver had taken the item from the other man midsentence and demonstrated it by making a snow duck, placing the 1st one on his buffer.
“If we got some food colouring, we could colour the beak and it would be a perfect copy of Dilly,” his Fireman said as another duck was placed on the wall.
“Let me go into my kitchen and grab it,” was the dry reply from his Driver. Donald bit his lip to stop the amused huff from leaving his mouth.
“We can ask the stationmaster at Tidmouth Hault then. That man always seems to have a little bit of everything in his office,” his Fireman replied, waving off
Donald looked over the growing flock of snowbirds and felt a pang from deep within. When the weather had begun to get cooler, the days shorter, and the workload and shifts longer in response, he and the other engines on the Little Western had seen less and less of Dilly. He had worried, who wouldn’t? But he had been confident that once he had time, he would see his little friend.
But then his crew had explained that as Dilly was a wild duck, and might migrate along with the other ducks and live around Sodor as that was their way of doing things. The thought he might not see Dilly ever again had filled his firebox with such a cold heavy dread, it was as if someone had filled it with mud.
But when an early frost had sent many of the ducks south, Dilly had stayed. But that had raised some questions and concerns. Winter was already a harsh season for an engine and their crew, even when their fires were roaring, the sandbox topped off and the water unfreezing. What would happen to a small lone duck that had no fire to keep it warm, no pond to swim in or easy way to eat?
Thankfully the stationmaster at Tidmouth Hault had been most kind and helpful. He had offered to take Dilly inside the station during the winter, so that she would be fed, warm and safe from predators. And so, with Sir Topham’s permission and assistance, a small area had been set up for the little duck. It had also helped that Dilly was now regarded as the unofficial mascot for the Little Western, so there was no shortage of food to keep the quacker happy.
Of course, it had taken some time along with bribes of her favourite snacks for her to use the space. In the end, it worked out and now Dilly was living comfortably in the station as the cold winter dragged on. And every time Duck or Oliver stopped by the station with their trains, they would update Donald on Dilly’s current status.
It did him good to hear that Dilly was doing well, but he had yet to see the duck himself, as the heavy goods work in the autumn and snow-plowing in the winter had made him and his brother so busy that they rarely had the time off. But a warm spell was predicted to be coming soon, with more warming weather to follow meaning one thing: winter was coming to a end. This would free up some of the Scottish engine's time so that he could make more constant trips to the station.
For now, he would have to be content with what news he could get along with the odd job along the route. Such as one that was scheduled for after this job where he was to bring some goods along the seaside route; with good fortune and timing, he might be able to make a stop at the station to see for himself.
“Driver, Fireman,” Donald began. His crew paused in their actions to look at the engine. “Whin we git tae hault, mibbie we kin shaw Dilly th' snaw ducks.”
The two men nodded in agreement but before they could add anything more, a deep familiar whistle sounded through the air. Donald whistled in response and waited until he felt something bump him from behind.
“Waited lang?” his brother called out.
“Nah,” Donald replied as his crew moved so that they could climb into his cabin. “Didn’t even notice that ye wur gone.”
Donald heard his brother spit in fake annoyance but if something else was said, he didn’t hear it as the two of them, backed buffer to buffer with a work train in between, moved forward. What he did hear was the abrupt snort followed by an engine and two men laughing as they passed by the now three-and-a-half dozen snow ducks that lined the wall.
“Ah kin see that ye 'n' yer crew wur bein' Useful,” Douglas snorted. Donald only laughed as he puffed forward, eager to finish off his current job so that he could see his feathered Quackeroo all the more sooner.