Fleur was freezing, her breath coming out in thick white clouds. She was so cold she thought her blood might be ice.
And she was starving. She thought of her bet with Fine; at the moment it didn’t matter what kind of food he offered her, she would have treated it like the finest gourmet delicacy!
And she was so very tired. Every step made her horseshoes feel like lead, and she kept her head hung low just to save the strength needed to keep it up.
And she was dirty. So dirty. She’d have to spend a whole day in a tub before she’d feel decent again.
And, speaking of tubs, she was still wet. Her tail dragged along the moist ground, her mane hung from her face like a mop, her coat was covered in frost.
And…
She let out a depressed sigh; there were too many ‘ands.’ She decided to settle for being miserable. She’d always hated the cold, but this was taking things to a whole new degree of loathing.
She eyed Big McIntosh. He seemed to be faring a lot better than her. Maybe it was his size, or perhaps he was just trying to put on a good showing. He still shivered, though, the frost much more obvious on his red coat than her own white one. She watched the steam of his breath for a while, observing the small swirls and shapes of it. Every now and again he’d look up at the stars.
But they’d been walking for a long time, now. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
“Eeyup.” He didn’t even look at her.
Fleur scowled and focused on her hooves. One hoof at a time, just keep walking. Eventually she’d be back in Ponyville and could find someplace warm.
Several minutes of frigid silence passed. Fleur paused every now and again to rub her body in the vain hope of gaining a little extra warmth. Big Mac never bothered with that. He never complained about the cold, though there was no way it wasn’t bothering him. He had a permanent frown on his lips, and his eyes remained focused and steely. She couldn’t tell if it was because he was determined to ignore the cold or focused on getting home.
Or perhaps it was her. Maybe he didn’t like her.
Which was fine; Fleur was not inclined to like him, either. How in the name of Luna’s sparkling mane had he managed to resist her? The thought kept coming back, over and over and over again. She was desperate to figure it out, but after her shameful breakdown from before she wasn’t about to ask again.
She needed something else to think on. Anything aside from her failure and the freezing cold. She slowly scoured her mind even as she repressed a shiver. “S-so,” she asked through gritted teeth, “do you have any idea just how far away Ponyville is?”
Big Mac shook his head. “Nnope. Got confused when ah ran from the town.”
She sighed and rubbed her body once again. “So th-there’s no telling, is there?” He didn’t answer. “Do you think we’ll ev-ven get there before morning?”
His harsh expression finally broke. He turned his head to observe her as he asked. “Are ya gonna be alright?”
She sneered and forced herself to move forward with head held high. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
He kept staring as they walked in silence. She wanted to snap at him, but firmly held her tongue. What did he think she was, a feeble filly?
“What were ya doin’ out here, anyway?”
Fleur missed a step and fought to maintain her haughty demeanor, but suddenly she felt very foalish. All this time she’d been walking with him, and not once had she considered forming an excuse! Why hadn’t she realized that her presence would seem odd? Now she was frantically raking her brain for some sort of explanation that wouldn’t involve the truth. Fine wouldn’t want him to know…
“Did ya get lost?”
She paused and stared at him. He stared right back, but didn’t stop walking. “Lost…?”
He looked forward once more as he went on ahead. “It’s nothin’ ta be ashamed of.”
Lost. That was a half-decent excuse. Perhaps she could—
Fleur shook her head forcefully; it was a terrible excuse! That was the kind of thing some brainless twit would think of!
Then it hit her: he had every reason to believe she was that dumb. For all he knew, she was just another stupid model. Living off of petty charms, marrying somepony rich, living life from one pointless party to the next. The kind of mare who survived off undeserved fame and thrived on scandal. And why shouldn’t he think that way? Her cover was as a supermodel, after all. What did Big Mac know of Archons and treachery and espionage?
Fleur followed behind, head hung low. She studied his prints in the moist snow, noted how huge they were in comparison to her dainty hooves. She was observant enough to have gathered that he was a stallion of hard work. He probably survived off of toil. A stallion like that would almost certainly look down on a pony who seemed so…hollow.
She recalled her momentary breakdown, how upset Big Mac had seemed about it. He must think her so vain. She couldn’t deny she was a proud pony, but it wasn’t about shallow vanity. She really did need to maintain her appearance. Being a supermodel was one thing; being an Archon was something else, entirely. Her attractiveness was her greatest weapon! It had gotten her through so many missions…
His excuse was a legitimate one, but she couldn’t possibly use it. Fleur was an intelligent, strong-willed pony. She was too proud to act all vain and dumb for the sake of the excuse. True, he was just a regular citizen of Ponyville, but it still mattered to her. Her image was just too important.
But what other excuse could she use?
Snow began to fall, a wind kicking up to make her shudder. She felt at her mane, which was still moist and ugly. And hard; the hair was literally freezing thanks to the water. She eyed Big Mac’s girth and wished she were a little bigger. If things kept up like this…
No, that wasn’t going to happen! She shook her head and forced her aching legs to move faster, catching up to her companion. She forced her mind to think on him, and what she might say.
But her only idea was to tell the truth. She couldn’t do that…could she?
Maybe if she only told part of the truth. Fleur had learned to lie a long time ago, but to deliver half-truths wasn’t so easy. At times like this she envied Fine and his masterful talent for deception. She thought carefully on the events of the night, picking out the facts that didn’t need to be shared. She didn’t want to give the wrong clues, but how to know what was a good truth from one that might lead him to dangerous conclusions?
Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “B-Big M-McIntosh?”
“Hmm?”
She breathed into her hooves a few times to warm her cheeks. “I want to t-tell you the truth, but y-you have to promise not t-to tell anypony. You especially can’t tell F-Fine Crime I told y-you.”
Big Mac glanced at her, then came to an abrupt stop. His eyes went wide and he reached up to touch her icy mane. “Are ya sure yer gonna be alright?”
She knocked his hoof away with a glower and a shiver. “I t-told you, I’m fine! D-do you promise or n-not?”
He hesitated, the worry plain on his face. She glared, silently daring him to correct her. After a while he nodded and walked on, though he never lost his apprehensive frown. “Ah promise.”
She sighed and followed, taking some time to carefully think on her words. “I’m h-here on Fine’s—” Maybe he shouldn't know Fine was her boss. “—at Fine’s r-request. You probably won’t b-believe this, but I’m not just a model. I’m als-so a Master Illusionist.”
He eyed her. “Don’ ya have ta pass a test ta be called a ‘Master’?”
She returned the look. “Y-you mean you know about the m-magical aptitude tests?”
He frowned and faced forward once more. “Ah’m not jus’ a dumb country boy.”
She winced. “S-sorry, that w-was—” She shook her head; why was she apologizing? All this cold was muddling her mind. “Y-yes, I passed an exam. Th-that’s why Fine needs m-me, for my magic.”
Fleur glanced at him, but he said nothing and kept frowning. There was nothing else to do but keep talking…and watch her words. “F-Fine knows about that t-town we escaped from. He lives out-t here so that he c-can distract ponies who c-come near it. He asked m-me to make a fak-ke ghost town. It was sup-posed to harmlessly scare off p-ponies who got p-past him.”
A sharp breeze swirled snow about them. Fleur let out a small yelp at the intense cold. Big Mac glanced at her, but she hurried on with her explanation before he could speak. “Th-the town I made was m-malfunction-ning, and he ask-ked me to fix it. S-so here I am.”
Fleur refused to look at her companion. Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering! But she was fine. She was not going to show any weakness…even if she was starting to feel really tired. When his stare began to grate on her nerves she asked, “S-so? D-don’t you have anyth-thing to s-say?”
A long silence passed.
“Y-ya don’ look too good.”
She rounded on him. “About m-my story! Do you b-believe me or not-t?”
Big McIntosh stared at her face, ears low. He opened blue lips to speak, reconsidered. At last he nodded. “Ah believe ya.”
Her mind stopped working. “Y-you d-do?”
“Eeyup.”
He turned and continued walking. Fleur tried to make sense of how easy that was, but was too tired to…to…
She looked down at her legs, the thin snowfall floating about them in tiny swirls. Several seconds passed in mind-numbing silence. She thought, she commanded, she questioned. But no matter what she tried, her hooves remained still.
She was in trouble.
It took Big McIntosh a couple seconds to realize that Fleur wasn't behind him. He stopped and looked back to find her staring at her legs as if not sure what they were.
He knew what that meant.
He looked around, raising a hoof to his eyes to block the snow. The woods weren’t so thick around here, but if he could find a good spot…
There. A trio of trees, knocked down as one by some unknown force.
Big Mac walked over to Fleur, who had sat and was still staring at her legs. Her eyes were drooping, and his worry grew at the sight. He stood beside her. “Put yer leg around mah shoulder.”
Fleur slowly looked up at him, as if even that small movement required a lot of effort. “W-what?” Good Goddess, she was so blue.
She wouldn’t make it with just a leg on his shoulder; he grabbed her and set her on his back. Her head hung loosely over his shoulder as he made his way to the trees. “I’m s-sorry,” she whispered. “I th-thought I c-could handle it.”
“Ah know.”
She went silent, her heavy breathing the only sound between them. Her quietness worried him. He needed her to stay awake for at least a little longer!
It took a few minutes to reach the trees. He dropped to his belly and carefully set her back on the ground, taking a moment to check her over. She was still awake, but wouldn’t be for much longer. “C-can ya use magic?”
Her eyes drifted up to him from the ground, her face as pale as the snow on which she lay. “I-I th-think so. B-but wh-why?”
Worry filling him, Big Mac hurried to gather up some of the limbs and dead wood that surrounded them. There were plenty, and soon he had a big pile set aside. He grabbed a few and set them before her. “D-don’ fall asleep,” he ordered through shaking teeth. “Wh-whatever ya do, d-don’ fall asleep.”
He found a larger, sturdy looking stick and set it vertically atop the tiny pile. He rubbed it between his hooves demonstrably before giving her a hopeful look.
Fleur’s eyes followed the motion, widening slightly in understanding. She lifted her head just barely, her face straining as her horn started to glow. The stick began to turn far faster than Big Mac could have managed. He turned his large body and lay down so as to block the wind.
Seconds seemed like hours. His heart thudded against his chest like a hammer as he watched her magic work. Would she give up before the wood got hot enough? Fleur seemed like she was at the end of her rope…
Smoke rose, accompanied by his rising hope. “Tha’s it, ya almost got it.”
She closed her eyes and grimaced, but her magic didn’t fade. At last a small flame sparked within the wood, and Big Mac hurriedly surrounded it with his hooves to protect against the snow and winds. “Good! This is perfect.”
The magic dimmed as Fleur’s head dropped to the frozen ground with a sigh. “H-how c-can…such a s-simple th-thing be so d-diffic-cult…?”
Big Mac worked the fire as carefully as he could, and after a few minutes he’d built it into a proper blaze. The warmth was wonderful! He helped Fleur move a little closer to it, and she thanked him, but he wasn’t satisfied. “Give m-me a moment,” he told her, turning to the three downed trees behind her.
She was resting on her side, and couldn’t conjure up the strength to roll over. “W-where are y-you…?”
Big Mac patted her on the shoulder. “Jus’ wait.”
He walked around the trees, studying them. They weren’t as big as they’d looked from a distance, but they’d do the job just fine. He went to the first one and, with some effort, managed to get a hoof under it. He strained, but it wouldn’t budge.
The cold must have been affecting him as it was affecting Fleur. Big Mac glanced at her, wondering if the fire was enough.
But then that old Apple Family stubbornness kicked in. Fleur needed help, and he wasn’t about to take any chances. He tried again, growling from the sheer effort as his hooves slipped on the icy ground. His shoulders were soon aching, but at last he managed to lift the tree. Feeling satisfied even as he huffed steam with the effort, he moved the tree as carefully as possible and set it down.
Once the tree was down, he noted Fleur watching him. There was no expression save weariness on her face, but still he grinned and flexed. Just for the sake of showing off. She offered a faint smile that left him feeling rather pleased with himself as he went to retrieve the next two trees.
It took some time, and when it was done his legs and shoulders were terribly sore, but he finally had the three trees set. Two on bottom, one on top. They weren’t a proper wall, but they would block the wind for two sleeping ponies. He went back to Fleur and carefully moved her so that she was between the fire and the trees.
“Y-you… Y-you didn’t h-have to go through all th-that,” she whispered as he set more sticks to the fire. Big Mac just sat and shivered. She let out a small sigh and closed her eyes. “W-well… th-thank you.”
He eyed her quietly, wondering if it was enough. She had the fire, but it wouldn’t last all night. He was going to have to sleep, too; there was no chance he’d be able to resist. The chill had that affect, he knew. But she needed to stay warm. She was tall, but not a big pony by any means. A slender form might work on a studio catwalk, but out here it might just kill her.
There was really only one option, and the thought had him thankful his coat was red. He threw a few more sticks in the fire and walked over to her. She was asleep now, right? Maybe that would make it less embarrassing. And if he could wake up before her…
He hesitated. The thought of what he wanted to do just seemed…improper. But she needed all the warmth she could get. He watched her for a few seconds, cheeks burning as hot as the fire. By Celestia’s multi-hued mane, was she a pretty!
That only made the idea feel worse.
His head jerked up as a long howl resounded in the distance…