//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: Dashing Through The Snow // Story: A Hearth's Warming to Remember // by Locomotion //------------------------------// At first, the four engines made easy work of the snowdrifts, smashing them apart in a spectacular cloud of cold, white spume. But the higher they climbed, the deeper and harder the drifts became, until at last the lead plough itself became stuck, barely twelve miles out of Ponyville. The gangers got out and began loosening the hard-packed snow, while Max and Hornette prepared to join them. “This is where we're gonna need your help, Hornette,” Max briefed her. “This drift, and presumably several others after this, are gonna be about as hard as concrete, so the only way we can get the ploughs through without getting stuck is by digging transverse trenches in the snow, about a yard or so apart.” “I get it,” mused Hornette. “Kinda like cutting cake into bite-size pieces, right?” “Right! In this way, we can break up the snowdrift in short bursts instead of compacting it still further,” finished Max. “So, can I rely on you to help speed up the process?” “Consider it done, sir!” At once, Hornette buzzed over to the front of the pack of diggers, and began casting a beam of magic on the snow in front of her. Slowly but surely, the snow melted away, until it had formed a trench running almost parallel with the ones next to it. In this way, and with everypony's help, she managed to get the job done almost half as quickly again as if they had just used shovels. The gangers were most impressed, and even Max couldn't help but marvel at their progress. Once they were finished, he ushered them over to the lineside, and the engines backed up for another run. Hornette watched as they thundered like angry bulls towards the dismembered snowdrift. This time, the plough tore through it almost effortlessly, the snow ahead of it exploding in all directions, and she and the gangers were forced to shield their eyes against the spray. And so it went on for the rest of the day, and for the next two days after that. The gangers and engine crews worked round the clock to reach the stranded train, hacking away at the drifts, charging them with the ploughs, edging further and further every time. Hornette aided their progress during the day, and even when night fell, Max allowed her to camp out in the crew quarters with Steamer and Promontory. Conditions grew worse as they bore in on Winsome Peak, but Hornette refused to drop out – she had made it this far for her tender heart, and she would gladly see it through to the bitter end! Finally, as they roared down an embankment beyond the summit on the third day, she spotted something dark standing out against the snow. “Mr Pressure!” she cried. “I think that's them!” Max leaned out for a better look. Ahead of them was yet another snowdrift, extending several yards along the ledge – and at the far end, as plain as daylight, was the black face of an engine. “By golly, so it is!” he exclaimed with relief, and pulled his head back into the cab. “Throttle back, Steamer! We've found 'em!” Whistling to warn the other engines, Steamer shut the regulator and allowed the thick snow to slow them to a halt, the blade of the leading plough stopping just a few hooves short of the stranded train. As soon as the cavalcade was stationary, Max turned and nodded to Hornette, who flew off to see if her loved one was alright. By now, “Element of Loyalty's” fire had gone out, and her cab felt no warmer than the air outside as Hornette climbed aboard and found an unconscious Locomotion and John Bull curled up on the floor. They had a tatty old tarpaulin draped over them to try and ward off the cold, but even this was proving useless; their lips were pale, their fur ridden with frost, and they shivered feverishly as they slept. Even with her thick, fur-lined coat protecting her from the icy breeze, Hornette couldn't help shivering herself just from looking at them. “Hornette? How are they doing?” called Max's voice from outside. “They're in a bad way, Mr Pressure,” answered Hornette anxiously. “We need to get them back to the rescue train.” Max peered into the cab, and frowned when he saw the state the two stallions were in. “Right, I'll go fetch some blankets from the works coach,” he said, and hurried away. Hornette, meanwhile, wrapped the tarpaulin as tightly as she could around her beau and his driver. “You're alright now, Loco,” she whispered. “We'll soon have you out of here.” “...keep her burning, John...we've gotta...hold out...” Locomotion screwed up his eyes and muttered deliriously under his breath as a bright light seemed to appear out of nowhere. But how, he asked himself? Surely the fire couldn't be burning that brightly, or even that hot, for that matter – they had already used up the last of their coal ages ago. Had somepony else found some more they could use? Or was he already dead? The fire's glare suddenly went down with a clunk, and he cautiously opened his eyes again. His vision was still blurry, but he could just about make out a black shape looming above him, its glassy green eyes gazing kindly. As the world around him became more lucid, he realised that he was in a different cab to that on “Element of Loyalty”, and that the black shape was none other than his precious changeling, with his superintendent and uncle standing just behind her. “Hornette...Max...Uncle Steamer...,” he shivered weakly, “...boy, am I ever glad to see you guys.” “Oh, Loco,” sighed Hornette with relief, “you sure scared me for a while. Am I ever glad we reached you in time.” Max chuckled, and patted her on the shoulder. “We wouldn't have done if it hadn't been for that marefriend of yours, Loco. Your uncle was adamant that I bring her along – and damn, was he right! We could never have cleared the snow so quickly without her magic speeding things up.” Locomotion was so touched and astonished that he nearly fainted. His Uncle Steamer had always been a supportive sort, but this was the first time he had ever fought so staunchly for Hornette – and this was the same pony who doubted her after she had saved his life and was later framed by fellow changelings! It was almost too good to be true – and that Max was willingly allowing her along was no less incredible. As for Hornette herself...it staggered him to think, after being incapacitated by frostbite and fever, that she had braved the snow regardless just to help him and his passengers. “And just when I thought it was impossible to love you more, Hornette,” he murmured, giving her a weak, grateful smile. “Oh, well,” Hornette smiled back modestly, “I just didn't want Hearth's Warming to become a day of bereavement like it did for Rudolph's fellow villagers.” Even in his weakened state, Locomotion could only chuckle at that; but then his brow furrowed with concern. “What about John?” he ventured. “Is he alright?” “He's come off rather less lightly than you, Loco,” said Steamer, “but he'll be okay. All you two need is to rest by the fire for a bit, and you'll be right as...well, snow, in this case.” “Meanwhile,” put in Max, “we've got some serious digging to do. Come on, Hornette – we'll need you as well.” Locomotion's pulse quickened. What were the chances Hornette might return to the cab and find what he had in store for her? “I'll come and help,” he blurted out hastily, and tried to stand up. But Hornette forcefully held him down. “No you won't!” she scolded with a rare authoritative tone. “You're not catching hypothermia a second time on my watch!” “Hornette, please...” “I mean it, Loco,” interrupted Hornette sternly. “You've lost enough body heat just from sitting it out – there's no way I'm letting you lose any more by pushing yourself. You're staying here in this cab until you get better, and that's an order!” “And don't think of trying to talk around me either,” put in Steamer with a small smirk. “I've got my eye on you, Loco; and if I catch you putting one hoof outside of that cab, there'll be no roulade for you on Hearth's Warming.” Locomotion grimaced. “Aw, come on, Uncle Steamer, that's not fair!” he protested. “Who was it that slaved away at that cake only ten days ago?!” “Tough love, kiddo!” retorted Steamer, and winked at Hornette. Feeling satisfied that she had made her case, but still keeping a close watch on her stallion to make sure he stayed where he was, the young changeling got down from the cab and followed Max to where the gangers were already beavering away with their shovels. Most of them were gathered around “Element of Loyalty”, while others tended to the few coaches that had become enveloped in the drift. “This is gonna be the tricky bit,” observed Max. “What we're trying to do now is clear enough snow away to reach the motion. Once we've done that, we can move in with those rags and bits of cotton waste we've brought along in the coach, stuff 'em into the moving parts and set it all alight.” Hornette looked a little disconcerted. “Why would you want to do that?” “To thaw her out, of course,” said Max simply. “Normally, we'd use paraffin as well; but we didn't dare bring any in case of an accident, and it'll take a while to go back and get it, so we'll need you to get the fires going instead.” “Why not just drag her out?” asked Hornette sceptically. “No good. You'll only damage something that way. You see, when a steam locomotive gets stuck in a drift,” explained Max, “the heat from its boiler, cylinders and valve chests melts a lot of the snow around it. To an extent, the same applies to the motion, because some of that heat conducts through the side-rods; but as it begins to cool off, the melted snow refreezes, and the whole thing essentially becomes a giant iceberg.” “Oh, I see! So what about the inside parts?” continued Hornette. “Won't it be a bit hard to do the same there?” “That's why we have special steam lances with us,” answered Max. “Once the outside motion is thawed, we attach them to the rescue engines, and just blast steam at the snow and ice until we've gotten rid of it. So, Hornette, you ready to get...ahem...‘stuck in’?” Hornette stifled a giggle. “Bit of an unfortunate way of putting it, Mr Pressure, but I sure am.” Without needing to be told, she lit up her horn and began melting the snow away in front of the engine. Max pitched as well, and by the time dusk began to fall, they had cleared the motion and were ready to start thawing it out. Then the gangers started clumping the rags around all the joints, bearings and piston rods they could reach, and Hornette used her heat ray to warm them up until they spontaneously combusted. She singed her horn slightly the first few times, but soon had the rags burning nicely, and they stood around the small fires to warm themselves up. Two hours later, when they were sure the outside joints were free, Max and a few gangers snuffed out the fires and moved in with the steam lances. They hissed noisily as the five ponies hosed down the inside parts, and Hornette had to stand well back to avoid being deafened; but at last, the ice was melted and they were ready to begin moving the engine. By now, Locomotion was sufficiently recovered to play a role in his own rescue, and took the driver's seat aboard “Element of Loyalty” with Hornette by his side. “Are you quite sure you're alright?” she asked cautiously, as Locomotion set the reverser to avoid back pressure in the cylinders. “I'll be fine,” insisted Locomotion. “We're only taking this thing as far as Horse Junction, and then another engine can bring her home later on.” And I'll be dratted if she spoils the surprise, he added mentally, looking down at the saddlebag he had just retrieved from the tender cupboard. In front of them, the 602 and one of the other engines were just being coupled up, and hissed restlessly as they waited to begin pulling. As soon as the couplings were fastened, Max turned towards Locomotion, who raised an arm to indicate he was ready. The brown stallion waved back, and gave the same signal to Promontory, calling, “Okay, guys, on my mark! One – two – three – HEAVE!!” The two engines whistled in reply, and carefully took up the strain. For a brief second, Locomotion and Hornette held their breath, waiting to see what would happen – until, groaning tiredly, “Element of Loyalty” jerked and began to move forward. All around her, the gangers raised a triumphant cheer, and Hornette let out a whoop of delight herself. “We've made it!” she squealed jubilantly. “Not yet we haven't,” Locomotion reminded her. “We've still gotta go back and pick up the coaches. Let's just hope the passengers are managing okay.” He needn't have worried. While most of the gangers were busy digging the engine out, a few had gone through the train with hot drinks and food for everypony on board; enough to see them through while the two rescue engines heaved “Element of Loyalty” back to the junction, and dropped her off in a siding out of the way. Once Locomotion and Hornette had rejoined Steamer and Promontory in the 602, they headed back to the Flying Mistletoe, where the gangers had finished clearing the last of the snow from around the coaches. Their gruelling work done, they coupled up the engines and climbed aboard the train, with Max also joining the 602. Finally, with the other two engines leading on with the ploughs and works coach, the cavalcade set off for Ponyville once more... Night fell, and one by one, the townsfolk of Ponyville headed back to the warmth and shelter of their homes. But over at the station, Firelli, Surfie and their parents waited anxiously on the platform with several other worried ponies, all wondering what had happened to the rescue team. “What's taking them so long?” fretted Surfie. “They should've been back by now.” Fair Isle furrowed her brow. “I don't know. Maybe they've had an accident somewhere.” “Or maybe Hornette's been taken seriously ill,” put in Surfie, her voice laden with dread. “Hardly likely on a steam engine,” remarked Optic Strand. “So long as they've still got a good fire, she should be okay.” “Yeah – but Loco probably hasn't.” Firelli stared down at her hooves, wondering if maybe she and Scootaloo should have airlifted him home after all. Not that they would've succeeded, she rebuked herself sternly; carrying a young stallion may have been easy enough for an athlete like Rainbow Dash, but not for herself. “I hope they're not too late,” she murmured. Presently, there was a shout from one of the other ponies, and everyone else turned to see the rescue train, minus two engines, rolling into the station. Moments later, the Flying Mistletoe trundled to a halt alongside the platform behind the remaining pair, three days late, but safe and sound. Tired but triumphant, Steamer, Max, Hornette and Locomotion stepped down from the 602 just as the passengers burst out of the coaches and raised a huge cheer for their rescuers; while Locomotion was joyously mobbed by his own family. They were particularly grateful to Hornette when Max told them how invaluable she had been, and one passenger even gave her a snow globe he had bought in Manehattan as a token of his appreciation. When all the fuss was over, the station staff escorted them into the café while another engine prepared to take charge of the express. “Well, Hornette,” declared Max as he sipped at his coffee, “I think I can safely say you've more than earned your stripes. You got us out of a desperate situation, and I'm truly grateful for your help.” “I should imagine we all are,” chuckled Steamer; and everypony else in the room heartily agreed. Especially Locomotion. “You were brilliant out there, Hornette,” he smiled. “I don't know where I'd be without you – or any of you, for that matter.” “That's alright, tender heart,” answered Hornette, and hugged him tightly – partly out of affection, but mostly because he still felt a little cold. “You're far more precious to me than any Hearth's Warming present, and I couldn't let your passengers freeze to death either.” Her expression turned sombre at this point, and her grip slackened as she remembered something. “What's wrong?” asked Locomotion, picking up on her sudden change in mood. Hornette sighed and pulled back, taking hold of his front hooves as she gazed ruefully into his eyes. “Loco...there's something I need to tell you,” she began sadly, and explained about her Claud Hoofington model. By the time she had finished, Locomotion was awestruck, but also a little dismayed. “Blimey,” he breathed. “All that effort just for me?” “Yes – and all gone to waste, thanks to my clumsiness.” Hornette looked away gloomily. She couldn't feel any tears this time, but still felt rotten to the core. “I'm truly sorry, Loco. I should've been more careful.” “Never mind,” comforted Locomotion. “It wasn't your fault – just plain bad luck, that's all. And who cares about some silly little model anyway?” he added brightly. “It's the thought that counts.” “So...you're not upset with me for breaking it?” ventured Hornette, cheering up a little. “Why should I be? I wouldn't care if it were a full-size Claud Hoofington with a private coach to go with it, because you're the only thing I could ever want for Hearth's Warming.” Earning a touched smile in return, Locomotion wrapped his arms around Hornette once again as the two of them kissed. Within half an hour, the replacement engine was coupled to the coaches, the dining car was restocked, and the passengers duly rejoined the train. With a final bold whistle as if to wish everypony a happy Hearth's Warming, the Flying Mistletoe steamed merrily away on the belated final stage of its long journey home. Hornette watched as its tail light receded into the darkness, barely able to keep her eyes open. Locomotion, too, was close to falling asleep on his hooves. “Cor,” he yawned. “I'm gonna need a serious lie-in after all that.” “I'll say,” frowned Steamer, noting the bags under his and Hornette's eyes. “You look exhausted, both of you.” “Yeah, and I feel it too,” agreed Hornette sleepily. Firelli smiled kindly and sidled up next to the tired changeling. “Come on then, you two,” she whispered, “let's get you home.” “Mmm...thanks, Elli.” “And you can expect an extra Hearth's Warming present from me, Loco,” put in Max. “After your little predicament, I think a few days' sick pay are in order, not to mention the compensation we'll inevitably be paying out.” Locomotion was too tired to voice his appreciation, but managed a weak smile all the same. By the way, Steamer,” added Max, with a wry smile of his own, “you don't have to apologise for your insubordination.” “Don't I?” said Steamer rhetorically. “I mean...I was a bit harsh with you that day.” “True, but I'd have been just as abrasive myself if one of my own family were involved, so we'll say no more about it – and I promise that from now on, I'll never be so dismissive of Hornette ever again.” Max smiled again, this time more genially as he headed back to his office. “Have a good Hearth's Warming, you lot.” Feeling exonerated, Steamer smiled back. “You too, Max.”