Usually on a night when a new wave of snow would arrive, Big Macintosh would join his family and lay next to the fire with a burn that was gauged by the amount of smoke spewing from the chimney. Not only would he have enjoyed the knowledge that he was warm and crispy on a frigid night that made him feel even toastier, Granny Smith would probably be in front of the fire, stirring the tin pot of hot chocolate on the hot plate. Right next to her, the marshmallows would be warming up to the fire, sometimes fusing to each other and melting to the plastic of the bag due to the heat.
That night, Big mac was not with them, in the warmth of the fire or even in his comfortable pajamas. His only warmth was his body heat, a heavy layer of clothes with a jacket, and a kerosene lantern lighting up the barn next to him. He would have used the fluorescent lights that were hanging overhead and that lined the outside of the barn for parties and events, but he couldn't let his family see what he was up to, especially when they thought he was out there ‘finishing up’ a few chores. He stood in the snow harden ground, chopping away at the logs that were next to him. His family's fireplace had enough logs to survive the night and then some.
It was for a fireplace farther away, deep in the forest.
Every chop warmed him up, encouraging to continue to fight off the cold. Next to him was a basket filled with more goodies and something extra that time: milk and chocolate for hot cocoa.
In all honestly, he did not know if she was struggling that night or if she was even home. He just had a hunch and ran with it all day, like a nagging hand on the shoulder . The chore took him only a few minutes, or as soon as he had chopped five logs or ten firewood pieces. He wrapped them together with nylon rope. He tied a longer piece of rope between the two firewood ties and had it over his body like a sling. With the basket with one hand and a flashlight in the other, he went on his way. Tied around his thigh was a small hatchet that he usually carried around when he would pick apples for branch clearing, in case he would run into any of the timberwolves that usually arrived during the snow or the night, preying on animals caught out in the elements.
The good news was the snow was only ankle deep, so the trek was not that dangerous with a high enough boot, which he had plenty to choose from. The bad news was he would have to brave the mile to two miles trek and back within the span of an hour. Frostbite would start setting in, even with the multiple layers of socks and a pair battery-powered heating socks he had on. He braved the covered road, and made the left turn on the fork of the road he had done many times before and went through the meadow and past the abandoned commune to save time. Doing so avoided the risk of being seen by the night predators who sometimes would take shelter in the abandoned houses. In front of him was the dark house that was Fluttershy's cottage. It looked like it was abandoned, but the chimney was pumping out a faint, white smoke. Towering behind the cottage was an advancing wall of dreadful looking clouds that were as wide as the eye can see. t was bearing down on their part of the country, so everyone else was home by the fire.
The storm was bad; one of the worst of the year, if not the past few years. He expected whiteout conditions the second it arrived, so there was no time to wander around. With the moon covered by the patches of clouds in front of the squall, Big Mac ran up to the door and quietly dropped off his goods. He retreated into the cover of night as the moonlight found its way through a a clearing in the patchy skies. Before he left for good, he made a snowball and flung it at the house. The snowball hit the front door with a loud thud. He waited in the bushes for his gratification, and sure enough it came within seconds.
The dark figure of Fluttershy popped her head out of the door and saw the gifts. The shadows didn't show happiness, just a rush to get the basket and the firewood inside.
Big Mac took off towards home once Fluttershy's cottage door was closed, and ran through the meadow in a desperate bid to make it home before the whiteout that would make it damn near impossible to navigate. Before he disappeared to the other side of the forest he looked back, the house was fully lit with the fire coming from the fireplace. The silhouette of Fluttershy was on all fours in front of the fire, stirring what looked like a pot in front of the fire. The milk bottle and pack of cocoa were right next to her. The chimney began spewing a healthy amount of black soot through the night.
***
"Good morning Big Mac!" Fluttershy said with a hug to his waist on the Monday after the snowstorm. The snow was shin deep all over town, with the school's walkways cleared of snow. There was something familiar with Fluttershy, other than her impeccable beauty: the sweater.
He found at the store while looking for new socks. It was a pale yellow cardigan with a minimal butterfly embroidered in the left waist. Big mac knew the second he saw it that Fluttershy would love it. Sure enough, she did. It hugged her figure and made her even more… Sexy.
"He came by again before the snowstorm! He is really kind. Do you think it's beautiful?" She said with a grin from ear to ear.
Big MacIntosh’s heartbeat skipped and he smiled. "You look beautiful."