As she stepped out of the barn, Applejack let herself heave out a single sigh, hoping it would pull away with it at least some of the tension she'd been carrying since she'd first laid eyes on this 'man'. She let the word run through her mind a few times. With every repetition, it sounded just a little stranger, as though it didn't really belong in her vocabulary. Or in the language of Equestria at all, for that matter. Just some more of that darned magic, if she wasn't mistaken.
Just beyond the fence, about halfway back to the house itself, she spotted a red shape leaning against a post, eyes fixed on the barn door.
"You ain't goin' to bed tonight, are ya?" she said, rearing up and resting her forelegs on the crossbeam.
"Enope."
Applejack sighed again, setting her chin down on top of her hooves. "Well, I s'pose it is for the best. I know what I said, but when I think about it, even I ain't sure why I trust him. Don't rightly know why I let him stay, neither. Shoulda just told Twilight, an' let her deal with it. Be smart to keep an eye on him."
"Yeh talkin' t'me, or tryin' to convince yerself?"
She chuckled.
"Seein' right through me, ain't'cha?"
"Eeyup."
"All right. Tell you the truth, I know we shouldn't be trustin' this fella. But I got a feelin'. Like I know he ain't meanin' to bring any harm down on us. Lookin' at him, I kinda feel like he just wants some peace an' quiet. You know what I mean?"
Big Mac just gave her a deadpan stare, giving nothing away. Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes.
"Fine, keep an eye on him. Like I said, it's probably the smart move anyway. Just be gone before dawn, you hear? I don't want him thinkin' that we don't trust him. And I was serious before; you'll need to get some shut-eye yourself, else you'll be fallin' asleep in the fields tomorrow."
He nodded. "Will do. G'night, Applejack."
"Night," she said, smiling as she let herself down and carried on her way.
As soon as she was behind him, Big Mac moved, crossing the grass with stealth that belied his considerable bulk. It was the wonderful, and terrible, thing about being him; ponies always assumed, whether kindly or otherwise, that he was nothing more than a less-than-intelligent farm hoof, who got by on strength and little else.
But he was smarter than most ponies gave him credit for. As he settled himself down beside the barn door, he was quietly content in the knowledge that his target didn't even suspect his presence.
Then he heard the muffled sound of sobbing through the thick planks.
It went on for a long while, before finally tailing off and letting the usual night time noises fill the air again. There was the sound of movement, a body settling down on a makeshift bed, then stillness.
Feeling vaguely guilty, Big McIntosh rose quietly to his hooves, and picked his way back across the grass.