//------------------------------// // Presentation // Story: Warmth in Winter // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// The air is crisp and cold, my nervous breath frosting in front of my face. Everywhere I turn, there are colored lights hanging from the houses and wreaths hung up on doorways. The scent of mulled cider, peppermint and hot cocoa is ubiquitous, as is the sound of music and singing. Hearth's Warming Eve is my favorite time of the year, and my favorite place to spend it is in Ponyville. I've been coming here for visits for years, along with my friends. We've become very familiar with the town and its ponies—some of us more familiar than others; like Minuette, who has long ago wandered off in the company of Berry Punch and her adorable little daughter. But there's one pony that I've always been meaning to get to know better. He's a turquoise earth pony with a light purple mane and eyes that are just the perfect shade of blue. His cutie mark is a golden maple leaf. His name is Autumn Leaf, and he runs the local tree nursery. I first met him this fall, when he came into the Hayburger while Minuette, Twinkleshine and I were having lunch there. I wish I could say we met under completely normal circumstances—he sat down near me and we said hello, just like a normal mare and stallion would meet each other, but no. What happened was he stumbled into me when I got up and wound up spilling his drink all over us both and messed up my mane. He was so embarrassed, started stammering out apologies while Twinkleshine and Minuette laughed themselves silly. Some mares would have been furious at the little klutz, but I've always believed in making lemons into lemonade—it is my special talent, after all. So I just laughed and helped him clean up. "At least now we have an excuse to talk to each other," I told him. He laughed shyly, and I felt myself go weak at the knees at the sound. Ever since then, whenever we came to Ponyville, I always kept an eye out for him, hoping to get just a glimpse of him or to hear his voice one more time. The girls had figured out what was going on very quickly, and I've received no end of teasing from them, but I don't care: the sound of his little laugh forever echoing in my mind always lifts my spirits, and getting to see him has become the high point of my little pilgrimages, even if we only sometimes have time to say hello. But today, it's going to be different. I've been thinking long and hard over what I should get him for Hearth's Warming, even going so far as to ask for advice from the girls. Both of them told me (through their teasing and giggles) that whatever I get him, it has to be something unforgettable if I am to make this truly special. But the problem was, I don't really know Autumn Leaf that well. My heart beats faster whenever I see him, his embarrassed smile makes me flush, and the sound of his voice makes my innards do a tap dance, but I don't actually know what he likes and doesn't like, what he wants and doesn't want. A flagon of high-class mulled wine? A new book on caring for trees? The latest record by the rock band of the week? It was driving me mad: if I gave him something he didn't like, it could completely kill this relationship before it even started! Out of sheer desperation, last night I asked Moondancer for help. The two of us spent all of that night making bar charts, doing statistical projections and complex probability algorithms that she'd come up with, all in an attempt to discover what would be the perfect gift. Unfortunately, all results were inconclusive; there simply wasn't enough information to provide for a good answer. Moondancer probably felt bad for not being able to help me, so she left me with a word of advice that she'd taken from The Mare's Guide to Giving Gifts to Stallions, Edition VII: “The first gift has to be something that is special for both you and your stallion, something that will link the two of you together forever. Remember, it’s not just about him; it’s about the two of you.” It took me hours of silent thought, but I finally settled on the perfect gift, inspired by the season. I'm carrying it in my magic right now, tucked against my side, out of sight until I need it. There he is! He just walked out of that store, a small bag held in his mouth. He's wearing that dark purple hat and orange scarf. And did he comb his mane and tail? His coat is shining in the winter semi-light like the decorations around me. Has he spent days lost in thoughts and memories of me? Does he dream of me every night? He sees me! He's smiling and walking towards me! My heart is hammering against my ribcage and my frosty breath catches in my chest. This is it. The presentation is everything. I had thought of something to say, but my prepared speech has vanished from my mind. All that I can think of right now is that he's coming closer and closer and I have to get the gift ready. Come on, Lemon Hearts, think! He's going to be right in front of you in a moment, and you have to think of something to say! Too late. Here he is. He's setting down the bag on the ground. No time to think: just do it. I smile in greeting, hoping that this is sufficiently welcoming, and wordlessly lift up the gift and hold it up over our heads, floating in my purple magic. He looks up and a spark shines in his eyes as he recognizes the gift: mistletoe. He stares for a moment as if uncertain of how to react, then smiles and turns his cheek to me, closing his eyes. It's working. Don't mess this up. Just do it. Taking in a quick breath, I lean in, close my eyes, and kiss him on the cheek. His face is warm as a cup of hot chocolate, and just like consuming a cup of hot chocolate, I feel warmth spread throughout my body, especially my cheeks. He blushes as well, and we giggle together like little schoolfoals. "That certainly trumps the gift I was going to give you," he says, opening up the bag and presenting his gift: an extra-large lemon cupcake. "I made it from lemons from my own tree," he states, rubbing at his foreleg. "Oh, you have a lemon tree?" I ask, suddenly feeling a strange, happy tingling in my hooves. "Yes," he says. "I got it after I met you." He blushes even harder. "Would...would you like to see it?" "I'd love to," I say, feeling certain that my face is just as red as his. I follow him down the street towards his nursery, walking so close beside him that we can feel each other's heat radiating off each other even as our frosting breath mixes together with each exhalation. The mistletoe floats behind us, still absentmindedly held in my magic. And even though the air is just as crisp and cold as before, the both of us are warmer than we've ever felt.