“Anyhow, Ah guess that’s all that’s gone on since Big Macintosh got out of the hospital.” Applejack wrapped up her story, and took the final bite of her apple pie.
A murmur of surprise spread through the ponies gathered at the table, as they looked between Applejack and Big Macintosh.
“If y’all don’t mind,” Big Macintosh announced, stepping up from the table, “Ah’m goin’ out back for a bit of a walk.”
“All right, just holler if ya need somethin’.” Applejack dismissed him as he gathered his dishes from the table.
Pinkie Pie—whom still had a muting spell from Twilight on her-- got up from the table, and gathered her dishes as well.
“You heading out as well, Pinkie?” Twilight queried as she watched the normally overly bouncy pony trot—simply trot, not jump, or hop, or skip—just trot over towards him.
Pinkie looked towards Big Macintosh, apparently asking his permission. He mulled the idea over, not entirely sure if the company would be appropriate. He had a small willow he had been planning on walking to, and he doubted she’d let his thoughts be.
“Ah figure I wouldn’t mind the company,” he eventually decided with a shrug to not be rude, “An’ I bet she’s got a whole lot ta talk ‘bout.”
“Thanks, Twilight.” Pinkie murmured after a short flash from Twilight’s horn lifted the spell.
As he stepped out into the yard, she followed him as silently as she had sat during the dinner. After making the five minute trek to the willow, she had yet to say a single word, which was quite surprising for him, considering that Applejack’s description of the typically hyperactive pony summed up to “A never-ending fountain words that flowed forth faster and more readily than light from Celestia’s sun.”
Granted, that was probably taking it a bit too far, but still.
“Y’all okay, Miss Pie?”
“Well,” She began after a few more moments of silence, “I really wanted to ask you a question, but I still can’t phrase it right.”
That came as another big surprise for Big Macintosh, considering that he had known Pinkie Pie to always be the type to say things about as bluntly as a rock.
“Gettin’ the point across, or just not gettin’ offensive?”
“Um... both, I guess?”
“Well,” He dismissed it with a shrug, “if ya figure out how ya want ta say it, Ah’ll be willin’ ta listen.”
“Okie dokie! Um... Big Macintosh?”
“I guess... just don’t hurt her, okay?”
He chuckled “Wouldn’t dream of it,” as he watched Pinkie Pie spring merrily off.
With his company gone, Big Macintosh was finally able to focus on heading to the willow, taking in the simple night.
While most ponies really didn’t like the night, or the chill it brought, he was one of the few who enjoyed everything about it. There wasn’t anywhere near as much noise, and it was one of those few times he could be left alone to his own thoughts. He could just take his time, and breathe. Hearing the wind blow through the trees, he didn’t have to be thinking of anything he didn’t want to, and was allowed to let his mind drift to whatever it wanted to, which usually drifted to only a few ponies: his family, and those who he hoped would end up included in the former-- namely, Fluttershy.
“Well, Ma an’ Pa,” Big Macintosh sighed, looking from the two large stones next to each other to the starry sky that hung above him.
“Ah guess you’ve probably seen everythin’ that’s goin’ on right now,” He chuckled as he felt a breeze blew past him as if in response, “Ah know you can’t really say anythin’, but it’d mean the world to me if Ah had yer’ approval...”
“Me too.”
With a start, he turned to see Fluttershy standing a few hoof steps behind him, with two blankets draped over her shoulders.
“Well, Ah figured you’d be out for a few more hours.” Or days, he added to himself.
“Really? You want me to leave? Because I can if you--”
He cut her off with a quick peck on the cheek, telling her exactly what he meant. After some self-aimed mumbling, and her cheeks growing their almost standard shade of crimson, she finally grabbed the extra blanket she had draped over her shoulders.
“That reminds me, Applejack told me to bring you this...”
As he draped the blanket over his shoulders, he pulled her close to his side, out of the biting wind. They sat for a while, watching the occasional breath be whisked away by the night wind, neither willing to break the companionable silence.
“So... this is the willow?”
“Eeyup.”
“Mind if I ask...?”
“Ah’d be surprised if ya didn’t.”
“What happened to your mother?”
Big Macintosh cleared his throat as he began the lullaby again:
“The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short, but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby...”