A Hearth's Warming to Remember

by Locomotion

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sweetie Belle, Other, Romance, Changelings, Original Character, Apple Bloom, Adventure, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe
Length: 22073

Hornette the changeling experiences the joy of Hearth's Warming for the first time.

Wintertime in Equestria, and Hornette is looking forward to her first Hearth's Warming. She keenly soaks up the spirit of the season as she buys presents and helps prepare for the big day - only to break her present to Locomotion by accident.

Locomotion is excited too, as he has been chosen to work a seasonal special train between Ponyville and Fort Maine. On the return journey, however, bad weather threatens to cut him and his passengers off, and now it's up to his uncle and marefriend to rescue him...

Published 2021-12-29 07:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-12-29 07:30:00 UTC

Chapter 1: The Tale of the Nine Gift Bringers

Hornette sat by her bedroom window, gazing dreamily upon the strange yet captivating scene outside. Nearly a month had gone by since she and her unicorn coltfriend Locomotion had come home, and the kingdom of Equestria had changed from a blaze of golden brown to a thick blanket of white. For every other creature in Ponyville, it was just another winter; but Hornette, having lived most of her life in a dry, sandy desert, had never seen snow before. Even now, a whole fortnight after it had first fallen, she still found it a fascinating and exotic sight.

“Hornette? Breakfast time!”

“Coming, Mr Steamer!” answered Hornette, and trotted cheerfully downstairs to the dining room, humming a little tune. As she entered, the sweet smell of freshly baked muffins sitting on the counter brushed her nostrils, making her sigh contentedly.

“Morning, Hornette.” Locomotion, who was seated at the table with his uncle, turned to greet her with a friendly smile. “You're looking pretty chipper today.”

“Yeah, and I feel it too. Must be the snow that's doing it for me,” remarked Hornette with a bashful giggle. Seeing that Steamer and Locomotion each had a muffin already, she picked a third one out for herself and sat down next to her coltfriend. “I don't know quite how to explain it,” she continued earnestly. “There's just something so pretty and...magical about it all.”

Locomotion suppressed a hearty chuckle of his own. “I know what you mean,” he agreed. “We've had snowy winters ever since we can remember, and it never loses its appeal. Must've been like gold dust for you changelings.”

Hornette nodded. “Considering we barely had enough water to sustain ourselves, let alone form weather patrols...it's what I like about this climate,” she observed. “It's so much cooler and more pleasant than the old Badlands, and the weather patterns more varied.”

“Well, just as long as you don't mind having to deal with storm damage or clear snow from the tracks,” put in Steamer casually.

“Ah, give over, Uncle Steamer!” retorted Locomotion. “It's only a small price to pay. Besides, at least we've got Hearth's Warming coming up in a few weeks,” he added, his eyes lighting up with boyish delight.

Hornette could only smile adoringly at his enthusiasm. “You like Hearth's Warming, do you?”

“Aw, I love it,” gushed Locomotion dreamily. “Everything just seems a lot more cheerful around this time of year – all those twinkling fairy lights and garlands in Market Square, the Hearth's Warming trees all decked with tinsel and baubles...and the thought of what the Gift Bringers will be giving you...”

“Who?” Hornette raised a puzzled eyebrow.

“The Nine Gift Bringers of Hearth's Warming. They're reindeer who go all around the world delivering presents on Hearth's Warming Eve.”

“Wow,” breathed Hornette, intrigued. “That sounds amazing. Do tell me more!”

Locomotion chuckled again. “Gladly. Well, let's see,” and he began telling the spellbound young changeling how the Nine Gift Bringers came into being;

“Over sixteen hundred years ago, in a remote mountain village somewhere in darkest Høyland, there lived a kindly old reindeer stag named Rudolph. He was very fond of children, and although his trade as a woodcutter kept him busy all year round, he always made time to carve beautiful toys. When Hearth's Warming Eve came, he would deliver them to all the calves of his village, and in lonely chalets and cottages for miles around.

“All the little calves grew to love him, and he was well respected by all his fellow villagers, young and old. His closest followers were his wife Donner, the village baker, who would make sweet treats to go with the toys; Blitzen, the stoic but warm-hearted leader, and a lifelong friend of Rudolph's; Comet and his younger brother Dasher, the two fastest reindeer in the village, who gathered food and protected their comrades; Vixen, the village seamstress and wife of Dasher, whose spare time was spent making dolls for Rudolph to deliver; Cupid, the priestess and self-appointed matchmaker who had brought Donner and Rudolph together; and last but not least, the twin mages Prancer and Dancer, whose talents in magic and music brought warmth and happiness to even the coldest and darkest of winters.

“For many, many years, Rudolph continued to bring joy and goodwill to the young of his village – but one year, everything changed. As night began to fall on Hearth's Warming Eve, Rudolph had finished his rounds in the village and was getting ready to set off up the mountain. He was just hitching up to his sleigh when Prancer and Dancer approached him.

“‘The sky spirits are preparing a tremendous blizzard to come over our village,’ warned Dancer, pointing to the darkening clouds. ‘You'd best stay inside until it passes.’

“Rudolph shook his head. ‘Nej, Dancer, I can't do that,’ he argued firmly. ‘The calves beyond our village will be very disappointed to wake up on Hearth's Warming Day and find no toys for them.’

“‘You'll never make it!’ insisted Prancer. ‘The winds are growing stronger! Once the snow comes, you'll easily get lost!’

“‘Not if I can help it,’ said Rudolph bravely. ‘I'll see to it that those calves have a happy Hearth's Warming, blizzard or no blizzard,” and with that, he set off. The twins anxiously watched him leave, but didn't endeavour to follow; for they knew that Rudolph was as stubborn and resolute as he was kind and generous. Once he had made up his mind, there was no changing it. All they could do was pray for his safe return – but Rudolph never came home.

“As dawn broke and the storm subsided, word soon spread of their missing comrade, and Blitzen organised a search and rescue party to find him. They searched high and low, calling out Rudolph's name, and stopping at the odd cottage to see if he had taken refuge after all. It was Dasher who eventually found him. As he entered a clearing, five miles away from the village, he suddenly spotted an antler poking out from a mound of snow. Shouting out for Comet, who happened to be searching nearby, he began digging frantically to see who it belonged to.

“When at last they heaved the body out, they were devastated to find they were too late. It was Rudolph alright – one of his sleigh runners had broken and caused the sleigh to spill its cargo, and Rudolph, unable to find his way, had succumbed to the icy winds. With heavy hearts full of despair, the two brothers hefted Rudolph's body onto their backs and trudged sadly home.”

Hornette stared in dismay, but didn't say anything.

“When the rest of the village learned of Rudolph's death,” continued Locomotion, “they all mourned for him, particularly Donner and all the calves. The one stag in all the world who had brought them so much happiness, now gone forever...it was by far and away the worst Hearth's Warming they'd ever had.

“But Prancer and Dancer refused to give up on him. When Blitzen called in on them with the tragic news, Dancer revealed that she knew an ancient ritual said to bring eternal life to its subject. Neither she nor her brother had cast it before, but now that Rudolph was dead, they were more than willing to give it a try. At first, Blitzen was sceptical; but after seeing the effect of his old friend's passing on their fellow villagers, he agreed that they had nothing to lose.

“Over the course of the day, the two mages gathered the necessary artefacts and brought them to Cupid's chapel, where Rudolph's body had been laid out on the altar. They placed a rose over his heart, crowned him with a wreath of ivy, and lay boughs of holly all around him. As evening drew in, all eight of Rudolph's followers – Donner and Blitzen, Comet and Cupid, Prancer and Dancer, Dasher and Vixen – formed a séance around Rudolph, and set their antlers aglow as Prancer and Dancer recited an old runic mantra. After several minutes of chanting, the whole chapel flooded with light – and to much rejoice from the casters, Rudolph stirred and gingerly opened his eyes.

“As he regained his strength, so his followers noticed their own magic reserves increase inexplicably. Only when Rudolph was finally able to stand up on his own did they learn what had happened – once they had brought him back to life, he had sensed what they were doing and, as a token of gratitude, he had reached out with what little magic he could summon and reflected the spell back to them. After all, he explained, there was no way he would want to outlive his best friends.

“Time passed, and Rudolph continued to make toys for the local calves – but no longer did he have to go it alone. One by one, his followers all retired from their trades to assist him with his work, and even Blitzen eventually stepped down as the village leader. As years turned to decades, the legend of Rudolph and his companions spread across Høyland and around the world; chicks from Griffonia, calves from Yakyakistan, fillies and colts from here in Equestria, all began writing to Rudolph with their Hearth's Warming wishes. The Nine Gift Bringers of Hearth's Warming continue to deliver presents to the young of the world to this day,” finished Locomotion, “and some say that if you truly believe in them, you can see them dashing through the sky on Hearth's Warming Eve with their sleigh full of toys.”

At last, Hornette found her voice. “Wow,” she breathed again, visibly awestruck. “That was an amazing story. Do you think they'll deliver to changelings as well?”

Steamer smiled wryly. He loved his nephew dearly, but his imagination could be pretty overactive at times. “Well, they're not actually re...”

“Shh! Hornette doesn't know that!” interrupted Locomotion quietly. “Let her have her fantasies, Uncle Steamer – don't forget, she never got to be a playful little filly like Surfie and Elli did.”

“Oh...sorry, Loco,” murmured Steamer. “I didn't appreciate that.”

“It's okay, you two.” The two stallions looked back to Hornette. “I understand they...probably aren't real,” she said, smiling faintly and trying not to sound disappointed, “but that doesn't mean I can't believe in them...right?”

“Exactly!” agreed Locomotion with a mildly self-satisfied smirk. “If Hornette wants to believe, then let her. And another thing...”

“Alright, Loco,” interrupted Steamer calmly, “you've made your point; let's just leave it at that. Anyway, Hornette,” he went on, tactfully changing the subject, “what are your plans for today?”

The young changeling pondered. “Hmm...I might go for a wander round town,” she decided.

“Oh, what, to get a few gift ideas?” Locomotion piped up.

“Umm...yeah, I guess so,” answered Hornette thoughtfully. For a brief moment, she considered inviting Locomotion to join her; but then she remembered he couldn't come anyway. Barely a week ago, he had passed his physical examination and been allowed back to work, and had spent the last few days shunting trucks in the yard. Besides, she told herself wisely, it wouldn't do for him to see his own present before he got it. “Could I have some money, please, Mr Steamer?”

“Oh, sure. How much do you want?”

“How much do you usually spend on presents?”

Steamer shrugged. “Depends, really. Loco and I normally spend up to twenty bits per person – rather more than that with family members,” he replied.

“Right...” Hornette fell silent again in contemplation. “...how about eighty? Just to be going on with?”

“Sounds reasonable,” conceded Steamer. “I'll give you the cash after we've eaten; but don't worry if you can't find anything,” he added wisely. “Loco and I can always take some time off to help you.”

“And be sure to wrap up warm,” advised Locomotion. “You wouldn't want a repeat of what happened last month.”

“No, you're right there.” Hornette gave him a wry half-smile as she recalled her unpleasant experience only a few days into winter, when she and Locomotion had gone to hang out with the Cutie Mark Crusaders at Sugarcube Corner. They thought nothing of the weather at first, for although it was frosty outside, there hadn't been any snow as yet.

But changelings, being part insect, are more susceptible to cold than most creatures. Within ten minutes of leaving the house, Hornette found herself shivering feverishly, even when Locomotion gave her his hat and scarf; and by the time they had almost reached the bakery, she felt so drowsy and her hooves so numb that she could hardly stand. She must have passed out then, because the next thing she could remember was waking up in Pinkie Pie's bed, with Mrs Cake and an anxious Locomotion hovering over her. It turned that she had caught a terrible cold and was suffering from mild frostbite; and although they managed to get the young changeling home without her catching pneumonia, she remained laid up in bed for a whole week after that.

“Oh well,” went on Hornette, “at least my new coat should keep me warm enough. Will you be alright, though, Loco? I mean, seeing as you're working outdoors...?”

“Shouldn't be a problem with me,” said Locomotion, shrugging. “I'll have a roaring fire and a well enclosed cab to keep me warm. If anything, this cold weather might do me some good.”

Hornette stifled a light giggle of disbelief. She wasn't sure she could agree after her frosty predicament, but Locomotion knew his trade much better than she did, so he was probably right. “Well...if you say so,” she murmured.

Having finished their breakfast, Steamer and Locomotion cleared away the dishes and helped Hornette prepare for her shopping trip. During her illness, Steamer had asked Rarity to make some better winter clothing for the young changeling. The fashionista was only too delighted to oblige, and created a complete bespoke outfit consisting of a purple anorak with slits for her wings, a pair of matching trousers and a set of pale blue snow boots, all lined with fake fur. Hornette was very grateful, and even more so when she was well enough to try it on – not only did it keep her warm, but the fur lining was so soothing and soft that she quickly fell in love with it.

“There we go,” said Locomotion, carefully pulling the hood over Hornette's head. “Snug as a bug in a rug – quite literally in your case.”

Hornette shook her head in amusement. “You're such a tease, Loco,” she giggled; but her laughter promptly turned to purring as she snuggled into the soft lining.

Now it was Locomotion's turn to laugh. “Come on, honeybee,” he prompted, trying to keep a straight face, “try to stay focussed, or you won't have time to buy presents.”

“Eh?” Hornette stopped purring and looked up at the clock. “Oh...right, yeah, I was gonna...yeah, I guess I'd better get going then,” she stuttered with an awkward grin. “See you later, guys.”

“Take care, Hornette,” smiled Steamer.

“And don't get too cold,” added Locomotion.

“I won't,” promised Hornette, and shared a brief kiss with her beau before setting off.

As the young changeling passed through the front gate, she couldn't help but beam in delight. Seeing the snowy landscape through her bedroom window was one thing, but being able to frolic in it without freezing solid filled her with childlike joy, and soon she was leaping and bouncing through the snow like a spring lamb. Already, the houses lining her route were starting to come alive with twinkling lights and glistening tinsel, which brightened her spirits still further.

She approached the town square to find it looking just as jolly. The shop windows and market stalls were festooned with decorations, and the sound of music floated through the air as cheerful shoppers went about their business, stopping every now and then to chat with friends. Hornette paused for a moment to admire the scene; but also to think about where she wanted to go. Just as she was beginning to wonder if she should have waited until Locomotion could take the day off, she spotted a familiar face peering into a nearby shop window. “Hey, Sweetie-Belle! Over here!” she chirped, waving eagerly.

Sweetie-Belle looked up, pleasantly surprised. “Hello, Hornette,” she smiled warmly as she trotted over. She wasn't wearing much compared to Hornette – just a woollen hat and scarf whose colours matched her mane. “Good to see you out and about again. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks,” replied Hornette appreciatively. “This coat has sure made all the difference.”

“Glad to hear it. I tell you what, it does suit you,” remarked Sweetie-Belle earnestly.

“Does it really? And there was I beginning to think you might agree with what Mr Steamer said when I tried it on.”

Sweetie-Belle raised an eyebrow. “Why, what did he say?”

“He said it made me look like a big purple caterpillar,” explained Hornette, blushing a little.

“Well...it kinda does, in a way,” soothed Sweetie-Belle, choosing her words carefully, “but more sort of cute than ridiculous. I like it.”

Hornette smiled with relief. “Thanks. Loco says the same, come to think of it,” she agreed, fighting back a guilty giggle as she recalled how annoyed he was with his uncle's remark. “Actually, I'm glad you're here. See, I thought I'd do a bit of window shopping, try to find a few gift ideas, and I...”

“Well, what a coincidence!” interrupted Sweetie-Belle in delight. “That's exactly what I came here to do! We could make a real day of it, you and I.”

“I was kinda hoping you'd say that. I can't even begin to decide what to get for whom,” admitted Hornette.

“That's okay, Hornette,” said Sweetie-Belle, wrapping an arm around the young changeling's shoulders. “I'll help you decide – don't forget, Loco and I share a lot of friends. Come on, let's get going,” and she and Hornette set off to begin their shopping.

Author's Note

The story of the Nine Gift Bringers of Hearth's Warming is loosely based on Santa Claus: The Movie, which, despite being panned by critics, remains my favourite Christmas movie of all time - and yes, I know that there are three reindeer who fill that same role in the series, but I wanted to put my own spin on things, hence the straight portover of Santa's nine reindeer.

Chapter 2: A Special Gift for Locomotion

Meanwhile, Steamer and Locomotion had just arrived at Ponyville Motive Power Depot, and were signing on for their day's work. The festive season was always a busy time of year for the railways, with hundreds of extra trains being run for the many parcels that needed delivering, as well as shoppers and tourists wishing to visit the big Hearth's Warming markets in places like Canterlot and Fillydelphia. Today, Locomotion noted, was no different; looking at the Special Train Notice board, he could see that at least twenty extras would be running over the next week.

“Gonna have our work cut out for us, eh, Uncle Steamer?” he quipped with a small smirk.

“Oh well,” mused Steamer, “nothing Ponyville MPD can't handle as yet. We'll just have to take it in our stride, that's all.”

“Mind you,” went on Locomotion longingly, “it'd be great if I could work one of those specials. I kinda miss being out on the main line.”

Steamer smiled and patted his nephew's shoulder. “Cheer up, Loco,” he encouraged. “Your work is just as important as ours – vital, even. Think of all the chaos we'd face if we didn't have you or the 5118 to shunt the yard! Besides, you never know,” he added optimistically, “you may yet get a place on one of those trains if you're lucky.”

Locomotion smiled back as his uncle trotted away to the canteen; but deep down, he wasn't so sure. His right arm, though mostly healed, was still prone to cramp under heavy loads, so firing turns were out of the question – and they were his only chance of getting rostered to a Hearth's Warming special. For while his uncle had taught him well as a foal, he hadn't become a driver overnight, and was still a long way off being officially passed to drive top-link expresses. How ironic, he thought wryly as he went to begin his shift, that having been promoted, he had gone straight back to the more mundane jobs! Still, somepony had to take care of the shunting work.

He arrived at the goods yard to find Lignite already waiting for him. “Morning, Loco!” he said brightly. “How's tricks?”

“Not bad, thanks,” answered Locomotion, trying to sound casual. “Uncle Steamer's already ordered our tree, and we should be making a start on decorating the house tomorrow. How about you?”

“Well...not much been going on my end, really,” admitted Lignite. “I was hoping my sister could come over for Hearth's Warming, but she's been held up in Vanhoofer and can't make it back till January.”

“Oh...sorry to hear that,” sympathised Locomotion. “Never mind – at least your parents can still come, right?”

Lignite nodded thoughtfully; but his attention was distracted as the 5118 approached them, stopping at the throat of the yard. The driver and firepony stepped down from the footplate, briefed Lignite and Locomotion on what needed doing where, and went to sign off while the two young stallions set to work.

Locomotion couldn't stay wistful for long. There was more than enough shunting to keep him and Lignite busy, and every time they had to take a milk van or an extra coach to the station, they found it looking more and more festively decorated. This made the red-furred unicorn feel much better, and he soon forgot about the Hearth's Warming specials.

They ended their shift feeling tired but satisfied, and took the little tank engine back to the shed for a well-earned rest. Much to their surprise, as they pulled up by the water tower, they found Max Pressure waiting for them.

“Hullo,” remarked Lignite. “What's Max want from us?”

“You tell me,” muttered Locomotion, feeling an unsettling sense of deja vu. The last time Max wanted to speak to him after a shunting turn, he had been distracted over Hornette and nearly caused an accident. Surely he couldn't have done something else wrong today, could he?

“Hi, Loco!” called Max jovially as he trotted up to their cab. “Another successful day's work, I see.”

“Uh...yeah – so it would appear, Max,” conceded Locomotion, quickly looking back towards the yard to see that he hadn't misplaced any trucks or coaches. To his relief, they all seemed to be in their proper sidings; but this only confused him even more. Had Max seriously been waiting just for a simple chat? Or was there something else he wanted?

“I'm glad I caught you,” continued Max. “As you know, we've got a lot of excursion trains booked for the Hearth's Warming season, and...”

“I know, I know,” sighed Locomotion unhappily, “you're asking me to work somepony else's turn while they get to work the trains. Yeah, I'll be okay with that...I guess...” He trailed off, hanging his head in disappointment. And just when he had managed to get his mind off it... “I suppose Uncle Steamer's getting an excursion turn too?”

Max stared in bewilderment. “Well, yes, he is. I'm giving him the Northern Lights Limited this year. But that's not why I wanted to speak to you,” he added hastily. “See, the thing is, Loco...I've been making inquiries with Head Office, checking which engines are being used for which trains.”

“Yeah? What of it?”

“You know we've got one running to Manehattan and back in two weeks time?”

“Yeah, the Flying Mistletoe. What's the point?” quizzed Locomotion, a little impatiently.

Max paused impressively. “How would you like to be on that train as firepony?”

Locomotion was so stunned he could hardly move a muscle, let alone speak. “M....me?!” he choked out at last.

“Yes, you,” affirmed Max, beaming broadly. “Your work in the yard has been really good...apart from that one time in September; but that's all in the past. The point is, you've been doing a splendid job overall, and I reckon you deserve a treat. I know it's no driving turn, but...it was the best I could do.”

“Oh, no, no, no, I don't mind,” blustered Locomotion, as concerned as he was eager for the job. “It's just...are you sure I'll be okay on an express firing turn? My arm's still not a hundred percent.”

“That's exactly why I'd been on the phone to Head Office!” laughed Max. “They're using a 484P to pull the train; and they're fitted with automatic stokers, so all you need to do is open a valve, and in goes the coal. So how about it, Loco? You up for it?”

Locomotion grinned with delight. “I'd consider it a real honour, Max!”

“Good lad!” smiled Max, giving the young stallion a proud pat on the back. “You and John Bull will be working her as far as Fort Maine on the 15th, and back again on the 18th; that should give you more than enough time to fit in a bit of extra Hearth's Warming shopping should you so wish.”

“Thank you, sir, that'd be great.”

“No problem. Change is as good as a rest, after all,” and Max strode cheerfully back to his office.

Locomotion, meanwhile, could barely contain his excitement, and it took all his willpower not to jump for joy until he had signed off and left the depot. Wait till Hornette and Uncle Steamer heard about this, he thought gleefully...

Back in Market Square, Hornette and Sweetie-Belle had taken a lull in their shopping and were treating themselves to some hot cocoa at Matilda's tea room. They had had a wonderful day together, and their bags were bursting with treats, presents and novelties – some of which mystified Hornette a great deal. She sipped at her cocoa, curiously examining what she could only describe as a glass dome with white flakes and a wintery scene inside it.

“What purpose does this serve?” she wondered.

Sweetie-Belle giggled. “It's a snow globe,” she explained simply. “You shake it, and the flakes come down like real snow. Watch,” and taking the trinket in her magic, she shook it vigorously for a few seconds before setting it down again.

Hornette watched in amazement as the tiny flakes swirled around like a blizzard inside the globe. “Oh, wow!” she breathed. “That's so clever.”

“Yeah, it is pretty neat, isn't it?” agreed Sweetie-Belle with a smile. “I thought Lickety-Split might like this as part of his present. He always has a display of Hearth's Warming ornaments on his mantelpiece at this time of year.”

“And how many of them came from you, I wonder?” murmured Hornette cheekily, prompting another giggle from her white-furred friend.

“You think that's all I ever give him, a whole load of useless trinkets?” retorted Sweetie-Belle heartily. “What about that ice cream maker he got for his birthday last year, for instance – who was it that saved up to buy it for him?”

Hornette stifled a giggle of her own. “I know,” she soothed, “I'm just being playful.”

“Seriously, though,” went on Sweetie-Belle, her smile fading slightly, “I'm surprised you haven't got anything for Loco yet. I'd have thought he'd be your number one priority.”

“Well, that's just it,” confided Hornette, now starting to look and sound uncertain. “I was hoping for something really, really special for Loco's present. Something to remind him of our first Hearth's Warming together...something he can truly cherish for the rest of his life...”

Sweetie-Belle nodded patiently. “Yeah, and...?”

“...I just can't seem to find anything that suits him. Those snow globes and baubles and all the other little gizmos are really cute and all, but...they're just not enough.”

“Well, that's alright,” soothed Sweetie-Belle. “You don't have to get him anything big or extravagant – even if it's something small and simple like...maybe a Rodney the Railway Engine snow globe, I'm sure he'll appreciate it. It's the thought that counts.”

“Yeah, but...I don't feel right just buying him any old present,” persisted Hornette. “This is Loco we're talking about – the most special and important pony in my whole life – the only creature I've ever truly loved. Surely he deserves more than a mere snow globe.”

“Hmm... yeah, I can understand your feelings,” sympathised Sweetie-Belle thoughtfully. “If I had a bit for all the times I thought the same thing about Lickety-Split, I'd have enough to buy him everything he's ever wanted.” She pondered for a moment. “I suppose we could go and ask Silver Spoon and her family if they've got anything.”

“Someone say my name?” Both changeling and unicorn looked up as the grey mare trotted up to their table.

“Oh, hey, Silver Spoon,” said Sweetie-Belle, shuffling to one side and inviting her to join them. “Yeah, actually, Hornette and I wanted to know if you could be of any help.”

“Oh right?” answered Silver Spoon as she sat down. “How come?”

“Well, as you can tell,” explained Sweetie-Belle, motioning towards her shopping bags, “we've been out buying presents together; but Hornette's having trouble choosing one for Loco. We wondered if you might have something she could give to him.”

Silver Spoon looked perplexed. “Well...why not just buy him something Rodney the Railway Engine related?”

“I already looked,” replied Hornette, “and there's nothing I can find that really...speaks to me. I want it to be the sort of present he'll always remember as the first I've ever given him.”

“Hmm...I see,” Silver Spoon mused. “So what sort of a budget did you have in mind?”

Hornette pondered for a moment. “Well, Mr Steamer did suggest twenty bits, but I'm not sure it's enough. How much do you spend on a special somepony anyway?” she ventured.

“I usually spend about thirty to forty on Lickety-Split's presents,” said Sweetie-Belle.

“About two hundred is my upper limit for Diamond Tiara,” added Silver Spoon, chuckling wryly as Hornette gaped in disbelief. “Mind you, my family and I are pretty well off – and I'm buying for a filly as rich as yours truly, so I'm hardly the best example. You'd probably want to spend...say, sixty bits at most.”

The young changeling nodded. “Okay...so what would that buy me?”

“From what Loco tells me, there's any number of model train stuff you can get for that price. Maybe get him a few coaches or trucks for that model railway he's building,” suggested Silver Spoon. “The other option would be to have a go at making him something yourself – that'd save you a lot of money, Hornette.”

“What about your mom?” put in Sweetie-Belle. “Couldn't she make something in silver?”

“Well...I'd ask her, but she's really bogged down with commissions around this time of year. Besides, they don't come cheap.”

“Oh...right, point taken.” Sweetie-Belle looked away ruefully – but only for a few moments. “Actually,” she remarked, her eyes lighting up again, “that's not such a bad idea.”

“Say what now?”

“What you said about Hornette making something. Maybe Apple Bloom could help her with that.”

“You reckon?” asked Hornette hopefully.

“If I know Apple Bloom, she won't have much to do around the farm now that winter's here,” asserted Sweetie-Belle knowingly. “Come on, let's go ask her.”

Hornette smiled back eagerly. “You bet!” she replied, and downed the rest of her cocoa before standing up to gather her bags. “Thanks for your advice, Silver Spoon.”

“That's alright,” said Silver Spoon, shrugging modestly. “I'm just glad I could help.”

“You wanna come with us?” offered Sweetie-Belle.

“No can-do, I'm afraid; I've still got a lot of shopping still to get on with. I'll catch you some other time, I promise.”

“Alright then. See you later.”

Apple Bloom was tidying up the barn at Sweet Apple Acres. She had spent the afternoon chopping extra firewood for the farmhouse, and was looking forward to warming herself up by the fireplace. She had just returned the axe to its holder when she heard Sweetie-Belle's voice from the doorway; “Hey, Apple Bloom. Got a moment?”

“Howdy, Sweetie-Belle,” called Apple Bloom, trotting over. “Been busy with yo' Hearth's Warmin' shoppin', Ah see?”

“And helping Hornette with hers,” affirmed Sweetie-Belle with a smile.

“Ah, well, it's good that yo' feelin' better, Hornette. Ah la'k yo' Eskimo garb, by the way.”

“My what?” Hornette's hearty smile gave way to a puzzled frown.

“Yo' coat. It's kinda la'k what a lot o' ponies wear in the Frozen North,” explained Apple Bloom. It was certainly a lot more inviting than the simple green scarf she was wearing, she thought enviously. “So anyways,” she continued casually, “is there somethin' y'all need, or did ya just wanna stop an' chat?”

“Well...actually, there is,” replied Hornette. “See, I've got a rough idea what to get for you and the others, kudos to Sweetie-Belle...but I want something extra special for Loco, and there's nothing in my price range that really grabs my attention.”

“Ah take it that includes...”

“Rodney the Railway Engine? I regret to say, yes.”

“That's why we came to you,” added Sweetie-Belle. “We were wondering if maybe you could help Hornette carve him a model train or something. There's only Chip Cutter who's better at woodworking than you.”

Apple Bloom nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that is true,” she mused.

“So...could you?” ventured Hornette.

“Well...Ah'll have ta run it past Applejack an' Big Mac, but Ah should be able ta set some time aside. Ah'll come round yours tomorrow mornin' an' let ya know when Ah'll be available.”

Hornette beamed with delight. “Thank you, Apple Bloom,” she said, hugging the yellow Earth mare gratefully. “That'd be wonderful.”

“Ah, don't mention it,” replied Apple Bloom, giving the changeling a warm smile of her own as she returned the embrace. “It's what friends do fo' each other.”

Hornette returned home with a spring in her step and and an excited flutter in her heart. She felt pleased with what she had accomplished that day, and couldn't wait to see the look on Locomotion's face when she gave him his present. True, she had never carved anything before, but if Rudolph could carve toys for a whole village, she told herself resolutely, then who was to say a changeling couldn't do the same for her beau?

Passing through the front gate, she could only smile when she saw that Locomotion had arrived before her. He was standing in front of the living room fireplace, putting up the few cards he had already received from his workmates. She must have had a good day, she thought with a barely suppressed giggle, to have come home so late. “Hey, Loco,” she called as she stepped inside, “I'm home!”

Locomotion trotted out into the hallway with a broad grin. “Hullo, Hornette,” he said, drawing her into a hug. “You enjoy yourself?”

“I sure did,” beamed Hornette. “Sweetie-Belle was out shopping today too, and offered to help me with mine. Hence the, er...” and she cocked her head towards the bags she had just set down.

“Wow!” remarked Locomotion. “Someone's been a busy bee, and no mistake. I just hope I'm not redundant already.”

“Redundant? Never!” giggled Hornette. “I've still got loads of presents to buy, Loco. These are just for Surfie, Elli, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom – plus a few little extras for the tree and suchlike. How about you, tender heart?” she added. “Anything special happen at work?”

Locomotion's eyes lit up. “Now you come to mention it, yes – and I'm sure looking forward to telling Uncle Steamer about it tonight!” he grinned eagerly.

Hornette smiled back. “Yeah, I thought you felt a little excited about something,” she mused. “Care to tell me what that something is?”

“Well, I was gonna wait until Uncle Steamer got back,” replied Locomotion, still beaming from ear to ear, “but I suppose it can't hurt to tell you now. You see...” and he explained what Max Pressure had told him earlier.

“...you've been assigned to the Flying Mistletoe?” Steamer stared in amazement.

“That's right,” affirmed Locomotion, puffing out his chest. “I'm firing her from Ponyville to Fort Maine on the 15th, and back again on the 18th. Max says they've got a 484P rostered, so I won't need to worry about straining my arm.”

“Aw, that's brilliant!” smiled Steamer. “You see, Loco? I told you you might still have a chance,” and he ruffled his nephew's mane.

Locomotion chuckled. “Only because of a mechanical stoker,” he retorted playfully. Then, becoming more serious, he added, “I take it Max told you about the Northern Lights Limited?”

“Yes, he said I was taking the Ponyville to Trottingham leg on the 14th and returning with the Sugarplum Fairy the following day.”

“Right...that means Hornette's gonna be on her own for the day,” murmured Locomotion, his smile fading. The ambush hoax that had taken place the last time she had been left alone was still fresh in his memory.

“That's okay, Loco,” interjected Hornette, who was in the middle of cooking dinner under Steamer's instruction. “I'll be fine here on my own, now there's no Electro Diesel to deceive us.”

“Besides,” added Steamer, “those other ponies have more than learned their lesson from last time. Any problems regarding Hornette, they'll take them straight to the police – Twilight Sparkle's seen to that.”

“I know,” sighed Locomotion. “I just can't help worrying sometimes. When I think back to that scam in Market Square...it just sickens me to think how hostile they were.”

Hornette shrugged. “Well, at least we've got Surfie and your parents to support me if need be,” she observed, ignoring her own painful memories of that day as she peered into the saucepan. She paused for a moment, arching a thoughtful eyebrow. “Mr Steamer, could you give me an opinion on this pasta, please?”

“Oh, sure.” Steamer cantered over and spooned out a strand of the spaghetti Hornette was boiling, blowing over it a few times before tasting it. “That's fine, Hornette. I think we can go ahead and serve.”

“Oh, good. I'll just drain it and then start dishing it up.”

“And I'll go lay the table,” put in Steamer. “Oh, and Loco...”

“Yes, Uncle Steamer?”

“...could I ask you something in private?”

“Uh...sure.”

Locomotion, mildly perplexed, followed his uncle into the dining room. Once they had entered, Steamer shut the door behind him and whispered into his ear, “Have you thought about what you're gonna be getting for Hornette?”

“Oh! Umm...” Locomotion pondered. “...well, yes, I have been thinking about it,” he replied, lowering his voice, “and straight away, I don't think I dare buy her present from the Ponyville market stalls.”

“Any particular reason?” ventured Steamer.

“Well, for starters, the Hearth's Warming market in Fort Maine's a lot bigger and more varied than here; and I'm headed there anyway, so it can't hurt to look. Also, any chance I get to go shopping between now and my Flying Mistletoe turn, Hornette's almost certainly gonna want to come with me.”

“Which could easily spoil the surprise,” mused Steamer. “Yeah, that's sound logic there, Loco – just as long as they have what you want. And if they don't...?”

“Then I'll have to try my luck here after all,” decided Locomotion. “Assuming you can keep Hornette busy while I'm out, that is.”

“Don't worry, lad,” smiled Steamer resolutely. “I'm sure there'll still be a bit of baking or wrapping to do by then...”

“Are you nearly ready, Mr Steamer? Dinner's getting cold.”

“Oh, uh...” Steamer hastily turned to the cutlery drawer. “...nearly done, Hornette!” he blurted out as he and Locomotion scrambled to get the table laid.

Chapter 3: The Flying Mistletoe

Next morning was business as usual for Locomotion. Once out of bed, he gave himself a quick wash and trotted briskly downstairs for a quick bite to eat before heading off to work. No sooner had he collected his kitbag, however, than his attention was distracted by a knock at the door; and when he answered it, he was surprised to see Apple Bloom standing outside.

“Howdy, Loco,” she said, “is Hornette up an' about yet?”

“Uh...yeah,” replied Locomotion, looking over his shoulder. “She's just in the middle of breakfast. How come?”

Apple Bloom shrugged. “Just wanted ta come over an' talk to her about...somethin'. Mind if Ah come in outta the cold?”

“Oh, sure.” Locomotion politely stepped aside and let her enter, closing the door once she was inside. “What did you want to talk about anyway?” he asked curiously.

“Ah, well that's...um...confidential.” Rather a feeble excuse, thought Apple Bloom, but it was the best she could come up with.

Locomotion cocked a perplexed eyebrow; but before he could press further, Hornette emerged from the dining room. “Oh, hi, Apple Bloom,” she remarked, licking the milk moustache away from her upper lip. “I wasn't expecting you to be this early.”

Apple Bloom chuckled wryly. “Yeah, sorry about that, Hornette,” she apologised, “Ah din' mean ta rush y'all.”

“No, that's alright. You just took me by surprise, that's all.”

“That makes two of us,” quipped Locomotion, checking his watch. “Anyway, love to stay and chat, but I don't wanna be late for work. Lots of shunting to be done.” He leaned over and gave Hornette an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Bye, honeybee.”

Hornette smiled and returned the gesture. “Have a good day, tender heart,” she replied as Locomotion trotted cheerfully out of the house. Only when he was out of sight did she turn her attention back to Apple Bloom; “So what did Big Mac and Applejack say?”

“Well...we got rather a lot ta do round the house,” said Apple Bloom, “but nothin' too big or complicated – just hangin' up decorations, puttin' up the tree, bakin'...we think a couple hours each evenin', Monday ta Friday should be doable. That okay with y'all?”

Hornette pondered. “Um...yeah, sounds fine. How many sessions will it take, do you reckon?”

“How long's a piece o' string?” observed Apple Bloom with a shrug. “It doesn't have ta be perfect, anyways.”

Just like Sweetie-Belle said yesterday – but it does if it's for Loco, thought Hornette; but refrained from saying it out loud. Instead, she replied with a nonchalant, “Well, if you say so. I'll see you this evening then...unless you'd like something to drink,” she offered.

Apple Bloom shook her head. “Thanks, but y'all still have breakfast ta finish; an' Ah gotta go help Big Mac collect the Hearth's Warmin' tree.”

“Okay. See you round then.” Hornette politely held the door open until Apple Bloom had passed through the gate, and then closed it again before going back to her bowl of cereal.

By now, Steamer was in the middle of cooking his own breakfast. “Hey, Hornette, what was that about?” he asked.

“Oh...nothing much,” said Hornette. “Just Apple Bloom dropping by for a quick chat.”

“Oh yeah?” remarked Steamer, interested. “What about?”

“I just thought I'd try my hoof at woodcarving. Apple Bloom's promised to help me with it...as long as it's okay with you, of course.” The young changeling paused, blushing profusely. She had been hoping to keep it to herself for fear of Locomotion finding out, but she didn't feel right lying to Steamer. “I was...kinda hoping that...well...”

“Oh, I see,” said Steamer, quickly putting two and two together. Sensing Hornette's dismay, he sidled up to her and gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “Don't worry, Hornette – your secret's safe with me, I promise. When are you planning on doing this?”

“A...a couple of hours each weekday evening, starting tonight.”

“Right – because I think we might be a bit low on decorations and such.” Steamer winked broadly. “I'm sure Loco wouldn't mind looking through a few options.”

Hornette's eyes lit up. “You mean...?”

“I most certainly do,” smiled Steamer resolutely. “If I can persuade him to come and choose a few decorations, I should be able to buy you plenty of time.”

“Aw, thank you, Mr Steamer! That'll be wonderful!” Hornette was so touched that she couldn't help herself, and Steamer was nearly knocked off balance as she all but lunged forward and hugged him tightly; but he quickly recovered, and returned the hug with a hearty chortle.

The days went by, and the general atmosphere around Steamer's house grew steadily jollier and more festive. Whenever he and Locomotion had time to spare, they, aided by Hornette, would busy themselves by decorating the rooms, writing cards and buying presents for their friends and family, and even preparing food for the big day. Steamer handled most of the cooking; but Locomotion also pitched in by baking a big chocolate roulade, his own signature Hearth's Warming dessert. He was especially delighted when they had chosen a tree to go in their living room – decorating the Hearth's Warming tree, he explained to Hornette, was very much a sacred ritual for him, and even when he was younger, his parents had always made sure to involve him in decorating theirs.

Hornette, for her part, could only share her coltfriend's joy as she helped him hang tinsel, baubles and multicoloured fairy lights from its branches. No wonder he loved Hearth's Warming so much, she thought – with so many bright colours around, any creature would have to have a heart of stone not to like it. Even grouchy old Cranky Doodle Donkey, she discovered one day, was all smiles as he went about his business.

“Happy Hearth's Warming indeed?” he had grunted with sarcastic dismissal, after Hornette gave him a cheery greeting. “Bah, humbug!” But no sooner had the young changeling's face fallen in dismay than he broke out into hearty laughter, genially assuring her he was joking before wishing her a happy Hearth's Warming in return. That, of course, only helped her embrace the spirit of the season still further; as did her evening woodcarving sessions with Apple Bloom. Though fiddly and tedious, Hornette found them increasingly rewarding as her block of wood gradually evolved into an adorable miniature locomotive. Locomotion was sure to love this, she thought happily...

As time went on, the weather changed dramatically. Little by little, more snow fell from the sky – until, on the night before Locomotion's excursion turn, light flurries gave way to a fearsome blizzard. The wind howled like a mad wolf as it tore across the land, whipping up the snow and carving it into deep drifts; and by morning, it was so deep that many ponies could barely make it out of their homes. When Locomotion left for work, he found himself almost knee-deep in snow, but he was too excited about the Flying Mistletoe to care.

Shortly after he booked on at the sheds, Hornette came to the station to see him off, and the two teenagers treated themselves to some cocoa and cookies in the café while they waited for the express to arrive. They chatted for some time about what sort of presents to get for whom, until eventually their conversation turned to Locomotion's train.

“Why the Flying Mistletoe, anyway?” asked Hornette curiously.

“Mistletoe is a plant that can be found in trees of all sorts,” explained Locomotion. “It's really popular as a Hearth's Warming decoration, and couples often hang boughs of it to kiss under.”

“So, like...you and me?”

“Pretty much, yeah – not that I'd advise kissing beneath a rake of coaches.” Locomotion chuckled wryly at his own feeble joke before moving on. “It's just one of a wide range of names we use for our Hearth's Warming specials,” he continued, “another being Uncle Steamer's train, the Northern Lights Limited. There's also the Sugarplum Fairy, the Polar Express, the Nutcracker, the Holly Jolly Flyer, and the Star of Rudolph, to name but a few.”

“I bet they must be really popular,” mused Hornette.

Locomotion's face lit up. “Aw, you bet they are. My family and I took one of them...I think it was the Sleigh Bells Special...to the Hearth's Warming market in Fillydelphia when I was eight, and boy, was it a trip to remember,” he observed. “The whole interior was decked with tinsel and garlands and such, they had a live band playing festive tunes...we in Equestrian National Railways always decorate our trains at this time of year, but the Hearth's Warming specials are in a class of their own.”

Just then, they were interrupted by the station announcer; “The train approaching Platform One is the Flying Mistletoe from Canterlot, leaving at 8:30 for Albaneigh, Delamare, Fort Maine, Hoofington, Maresburg, Fillydelphia and Manehattan Pennsylhaynia Station.”

“Ah – that's me!” Locomotion promptly downed the last of his cocoa, picked up his kitbag and made for the door, pausing only to wrap up his remaining cookies in a napkin and stow them in his lunch box for later. He and Hornette stepped out onto the platform just as a huge engine pulled alongside, resplendent in its spotless green paint and shining brass. Strings of fairy lights, tinsel and fir branches lined its boiler, cab, tender and footplate; and on its front buffer-beam, flanked by two headlamps, sat a bright red headboard bearing the legend “THE FLYING MISTLETOE” in white lettering.

Hornette watched heartily as cheery passengers milled around the train. “This does look festive,” she murmured to Locomotion. “I sure wish I was going with you.”

But Locomotion was barely listening. He had just caught sight of the nameplate standing proud on the engine's left-hoof smoke deflector, and was in raptures with what it read. “Well, bust my boiler!” he remarked. “I knew it'd be a 484P, but this?!”

“What's so special about it?” queried Hornette.

“That's one of the latest batch,” explained Locomotion. “They've had six of these engines built specially for working the Friendship Express, numbers 484P21 to 26 – all named after the Elements of Harmony!” and he pointed to the nameplate. Sure enough, it revealed the engine's name as “Element of Loyalty”, and the cabside also sported a red lightning bolt just above the number 484P25.

“Wow!” said Hornette, awestruck. No wonder Locomotion was so excited about this engine – to work on one of the most prestigious engines on the line (and one whose name best summed up his personality, she considered) must be the greatest honour of his career. “I bet Twilight and her friends are flattered by the gesture.”

“Oh, they're flattered alright – they personally approved the names before their construction began. They even commissioned a heraldic signwriter from Hoofington to make the cabside crests.” At that moment, Locomotion looked over his shoulder to see a familiar off-white stallion walking up to him. “Hey, John. How's it going?”

“Not bad,” smiled John Bull genially. “How about you? Been getting on alright?”

“More than alright, now that Hornette and I are an item!” laughed Locomotion, and John gave a small chuckle of his own.

After checking with the previous driver and firepony that all was well, John and Locomotion invited Hornette to join them in the warmth of the cab until it was time to leave. While they waited for the guard's whistle, they continued to make small talk.

“Been keeping well, Hornette?” asked John.

“Oh, yes, Mr Bull...” The young changeling smiled ruefully. “...well, apart from that cold I had a while back – but I'm sure looking forward to Hearth's Warming.”

“Oh, well, that's good. Must be whole a new experience for you.”

“Yeah...but a welcome change all the same,” observed Hornette. “We changelings had never had any kind of festivities since Chrysalis took the throne, and I'm sure glad to be making up for it now.”

John looked dismayed. “Sheesh, that sounds kinda sad,” he sympathised, “not being allowed to celebrate anything. Sure, all this extra traffic and all these passengers can be a bit of a burden, but I for one couldn't imagine a winter without a Hearth's Warming.”

“It's not something I wanna think about,” agreed Locomotion under his breath. Fortunately for him, he didn't have to think about it for long – within seconds, the call of “ALL ABOARD” from further down the train told them they were almost ready to leave. He and Hornette shared a quick kiss, and the young changeling left the cab just as the guard blew his whistle.

“Bye, Loco!” she called as the train pulled out of the station. “Have a safe journey!”

“See you in three days, Hornette!” answered Locomotion, and waved jovially until he was out of sight. Only when the last of the twenty-two coaches had cleared the platform did Hornette allow her own excitement to bubble to the surface; her present to Locomotion was almost complete by now, and his trip to Fort Maine was the perfect opportunity for her to sneak it back without him noticing. She took off for home, humming merrily.

While Locomotion was away, Hornette carried on very much as she had done over the past fortnight. Most of her time was spent shopping with friends or helping Steamer prepare food for their Hearth's Warming feast, the only exceptions being the last two woodcarving sessions needed to finish her model engine. The only thing she didn't feel too sure about was painting it, so Apple Bloom agreed to do that for her once the model was ready.

The following Sunday, Hornette awoke practically buzzing with excitement. Locomotion was due back tonight; and equally importantly, she had planned to pick up his present that very afternoon. She skipped happily down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Steamer was just cooking some hash browns. “Morning, Mr Steamer,” she trilled cheerfully.

“Hello, Hornette. Been a while, hasn't it?”

Hornette stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide with delight. Steamer had given her a friendly nod, but the answering voice wasn't his. “Why, Elli!” she gasped. “When did you get here?”

“Just last night,” smiled Firelli Brazen, who was standing off to one side. “I've been spending the night with Mum and Dad, and thought I'd pay Loco and Uncle Steamer a visit,” and she trotted over to give Hornette a hug. “How are you then?”

“Oh, I'm over the moon right now,” gushed Hornette. “I've been making the most wonderful present for Loco, and I'm gonna be bringing it home later. I can't wait to see him open it!” and she let out a small squeal of ecstasy.

“Oh yes? What sort of present?” asked Firelli, interested.

“A wooden model of a Claud Hoofington,” explained Hornette. “I wanted his first Hearth's Warming present from me to be really, really special, so I've taken woodcarving lessons from Apple Bloom so I could carve it myself.”

Firelli chuckled appreciatively. “Well, I'm sure looking forward to seeing it. Speaking of Loco, where is he?”

“Out working a special train,” interjected Steamer. “You won't get to see him until tomorrow morning, I'm afraid.”

“Oh...that's alright, Uncle Steamer.” Firelli was a little disappointed, but quietly assured herself that she would still get to see her brother later on...

Meanwhile, at Fort Maine Exchange Station, Locomotion and John Bull were preparing for their long journey home. The Flying Mistletoe had arrived nearly ten minutes earlier than expected, allowing the passengers plenty of extra time to explore the Hearth's Warming market here while the express took on fresh provisions and its engine went for servicing at the shed. Normally, this would include oiling all the joints and “cleaning” the fire of any clinker; but just like the rest of her classmates, “Element of Loyalty” was fitted with roller bearings throughout, and had a bigger firebox than the usual City Class engines. As such, she didn't need her fire cleaned or her motion oiled as often, so once John and Locomotion had taken on coal and water, they could head straight back to their train.

As they waited patiently for the passengers to return, Locomotion sat back and listened contentedly to the music playing over the public address speakers. He had enjoyed looking around Fort Maine over the last two days, and was looking forward to getting home with his haul from the market.

“I just hope Hornette likes what I bought for her,” he thought aloud, looking back towards the tender cupboard.

“Why, what did you get?” asked John curiously.

“Well...not much really,” said Locomotion. “Just a small trinket, let's say,” and he tapped the side of his snout.

John shrugged. “Well, I can't really give an opinion, then; but I'm sure she'll appreciate it, no matter what it is. It's the thought that counts, after all,” he observed.

Just then, the stationmaster came over. “How's it looking, John?”

“Pretty good,” reported John. “Steam heat, boiler pressure, water level, electrics – everything's fine. Should be good for a clear, fast run home.”

“I wouldn't bank on that,” warned the stationmaster gravely. “The weather chief called earlier to say they're preparing a blizzard over the Buckskin Mountains. It could choke the main line.”

Locomotion's brow furrowed as the tale of Rudolph flashed through his memory. He knew that even the strongest locomotive was no match for deep drifts without a snowplough, and worried that they too might become stranded if the storm went on for too long; but he also knew the passengers were relying on them, and he didn't wish to let them down.

And neither, for that matter, did John. “Well, I'm not gonna let some blizzard scare me,” he answered resolutely. “We'll get those passengers home safe and sound, or I'll eat my cap. Right, Loco?”

“We'll do our best, that's for sure,” put in Locomotion with cautious optimism.

The stationmaster frowned anxiously. “Well, rather you than me,” he finished. “In snow like this, you'll be lucky to make it as far as Delamare, let alone Ponyville.” With that, he strode off to supervise the loading of the luggage van.

“We'll make it yet,” muttered John under his breath. “Provided we can get past Horse Junction before the storm breaks, we've got a good, sporting chance.”

But Locomotion wasn't so sure. Even when the train finally pulled out of the station, he couldn't ignore a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that they were headed for trouble.

Chapter 4: Snowdrifts and Broken Presents

Apple Bloom set her brush down and stepped back to admire her handiwork. It had been a long and strenuous weekend for her, but at long last, she had finished putting the final touches onto Hornette's model engine.

“Perfect!” she congratulated herself. “That just about wraps that up – now all Ah gotta do is wait fo' Hornette ta get here.”

She didn't have to wait long. Her patience was quickly rewarded by an eager knock at the front door, and she opened it to find the young changeling standing outside. “Hey, Apple Bloom,” said Hornette brightly. “I've come to pick up that model. How's it coming on?”

“All finished, Hornette,” beamed Apple Bloom. “Come on through ta the barn an' see what y'all think of it.”

Hornette didn't need to be asked twice. She trotted over to the barn where Apple Bloom had been working, and found the model sitting proudly on her workbench. What had started as a plain old block of wood was now a smart royal blue engine lined in red, with black and golden detailing, red coupling rods, and the letters GER on its tender.

“Gosh, Apple Bloom,” remarked Hornette, almost moved to tears. “This looks so...real.” She sidled over and nuzzled the yellow mare gratefully. “Thank you so much.”

Apple Bloom chuckled and gave her a friendly hug in return. “Ah, that's okay, Hornette. It's what friends do fo' each other.”

“Yeah, and I'm sure lucky to have friends like you around,” put in Hornette sincerely. “I could never have done this engine without your help. If there's anything I can do to repay you...”

“Hey, don't sweat it,” Apple Bloom reassured her. “Ah'm just glad Ah could help. Just be sure ta let Loco know of mah part in it,” and she winked broadly.

“Oh, I will. Thanks again!” Hornette stowed the model away in her saddlebag and exchanged another quick hug with Apple Bloom before setting off for home. She was so giddy with excitement that she began to dance through the air like a bee, drifting between the trees without a care in the world as she pictured the scene that awaited her – sitting by the Hearth's Warming tree, watching on as Locomotion tore away the wrapping paper, his eyes lighting up in awe at the engine into which she had put so much toil and sweat...and all the hugs and kisses with which she would be rewarded...it made her heart swell just thinking about it.

So much so, in fact, that she forgot to look where she was going. Almost without warning, one of the apple trees seemed to jump out at her, and she swerved sharply right with a yelp of alarm. Turning around in mid-air, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw how narrowly she had missed it – only to let out another, more pained yelp as something slammed into the back of her head! Her earlier giddiness turned to an ominous feeling of nausea, and she fluttered drunkenly down to earth as her world slowly went blank...

Not too far away, Silver Spoon was making her way up the path when she was startled by a splintering crash.

“What was that?” she wondered, gazing towards the source of the noise. Through the trees, she could just make out a flash of purple drifting towards the ground, so she decided to make a beeline for it. What she discovered made her blood run cold.

“OH MY GOSH! HORNETTE!!!” she cried, galloping over to the unconscious changeling. She was lying face-down in the snow, the outer fabric of her hood scuffed and soiled with algae from the tree bough she had crashed into. The offending branch lay just a few hooves away, broken off its tree by the impact. Silver Spoon began shaking Hornette vigorously, trying to bring her round. “Hornette, what happened? Are you okay?”

There was no response.

“Answer me, Hornette! Are you okay?!” shouted Silver Spoon desperately; but still to no avail. Hornette just lay silent and still where she was.

Almost on the verge of panic, Silver Spoon began looking around frantically for anyone who could help her. Fortunately, Scootaloo happened to be passing by overhead, so the grey mare called up to her at the top of her voice, “SCOOTALOO, HELP!!!”

“Silver Spoon? What's up?” Scootaloo glided down to land next to her, only to spot the cause of the emergency lying right in front of them. “Whoa!” she exclaimed loudly. “How did this happen?”

“I...I don't know,” faltered Silver Spoon. “I just heard a crash, and next thing I knew, there was Hornette falling out of the air.”

“Right, stay here and don't let her get cold!” ordered Scootaloo tersely. “I'll go get Applejack and Apple Bloom to bring a cart and some first-aid kit!” Without waiting for Silver Spoon to reply, she took off again for the farmhouse.

Without further ado, Silver Spoon draped her coat over Hornette and slipped her scarf under her face, doing what she could to protect the unfortunate changeling from frostbite. “It's alright, Hornette,” she whispered, partly trying to soothe her own frayed nerves. “You're gonna be okay now. Just hold on.” Heaven knows how Loco would take it if you didn't...

Further east, and completely unaware of what was happening with Hornette, Locomotion was having problems of his own. The blizzard was already raging by the time they reached the Buckskin Mountains, and only seemed to grow worse the further they went. Endless flurries swirled all around them, buffeting their engine and completely blotting out their view of the line ahead.

“Cor, blimey!!” exclaimed Locomotion over the roar of the exhaust. “It's worse than the Frozen North out there!”

“You're telling me!” remarked John, who was now starting to regret his earlier bravado. “I can't even make out the signals this snow's so thick! I'll be glad to get out of it, I tell you!”

“If ever we do.”

“Well, let's hope we do, if only for the passengers' sake!” called John anxiously.

Locomotion nodded in reply, but he still had his doubts. Even with a nice, warm, fully enclosed cab, the wind was so icy that it stung his face if he so much as opened the window a crack. “I wish I could see!” he growled with anguish.

For mile after mile, “Element of Loyalty” lived up to her name and battled valiantly through the onslaught, determined not to be beaten by the snow. But there was worse to come – they had not long passed a lonely signalbox, and were halfway up another gradient when they heard a deep rumbling sound.

Suddenly, there was a violent jolt, and both stallions were were knocked clean off their hooves as the train ground to a standstill. Wincing in pain and surprise, Locomotion carefully picked himself up and began nursing the bruises on his chest and left shoulder. He was more shaken and winded than hurt, but all was silent and still except for the howling of the wind and the hissing of steam. “John,” he gasped, “are you okay?”

“Yeah...I'm okay.” John lay sprawled out next to him, clutching his neck in discomfort. “What happened?” he asked in a daze.

Locomotion stood up and leaned out of the window on his side of the cab, trying not to put too much weight on his injured shoulder. The wind and snow seemed a lot less vicious now they had stopped, but what he saw came as a shock.

“Aw, D-rat!” he groaned with frustration. “This would have to happen now – our engine's wheel deep in snow!”

“Huh?!” John scrambled to his hooves. Sure enough, as he looked out of the cab, he could see that an avalanche from the hillside had completely blocked the line, and their engine had rammed straight into the resulting drift. “Damn it!” he cursed crossly. “We'll never make Ponyville on time now! I'd better see if I can reverse her out of this mound and get us back to Delamare.”

“Good luck with that,” muttered Locomotion doubtfully. “Hundred bits says we won't succeed.”

John shut off steam, wound the reverser hard over, and gingerly opened the regulator; but “Element of Loyalty” wouldn't move. She just sat where she was, blowing off steam as if in despair.

“Come on, baby!” coaxed John under his breath, pulling the lever still further. “Please!”

But no matter he did, he couldn't move the train forwards or backwards. Even when he turned on full steam, the most he could do was make “Element of Loyalty's” wheels slip fiercely.

“It's no good,” said Locomotion at last, shaking his head. “We're stuck fast.”

“Great!” growled John. “Now what do we do?! We can't go any further forward, we can't back out, and we certainly can't reach the signalbox on hoof in this blizzard!”

“We'll just have to sit it out until a snowplough team can reach us,” decided Locomotion grimly. “You'd better go back to the coaches and tell the guard what's happened. I'll stay here and reroute all our steam to the heating pipes.”

John hesitated. “It won't hold out forever, you know that, right?”

“Then I'll have to damp the fire down, keep the pressure just high enough to keep the injectors running. That should buy us some time.”

“Yeah, but with the automatic stoker disabled...?”

Locomotion shook his head again, this time incredulously, as he opened the tender cupboard and pulled out a shovel. “You think an engine would just up and leave this behind, even with a mechanical stoker?”

“Nah...I guess it wouldn't.” John disappeared into the tender corridor, trying to save face after his faux-pas, while Locomotion began reducing the fire; knowing deep down that their coal and food supplies might not last long enough to see them through.

“...How's she doing, Apple Bloom?”

“Still out cold, Ah'm afraid.”

“I don't like how she's gonna feel about...”

“Wait a second, girls, I think she's waking up!”

Hornette's eyes flickered, and she let out a low groan. She could feel something warm and soft draped over her, but it clearly wasn't her coat; nor was the air so chilly as it should have been. Indeed, she couldn't even remember falling asleep in the first place. As her vision cleared, she realised that she was in fact indoors, lying in Apple Bloom's bed while the yellow mare anxiously hovered over her. She was flanked by Scootaloo and Silver Spoon on one side, and Firelli and Surfie on the other.

“Hey, Hornette,” said Surfie kindly. “How are you feeling?”

Hornette opened her mouth to confirm she was alright, but her stomach churned a little, and she had to rethink what she was going to say. “Sick,” she replied queasily.

“Ah ain't surprised,” murmured Apple Bloom sympathetically.

“Wha...what do you mean?”

“What's mah name, Hornette?”

“I...Apple Bloom, of course.” Hornette cocked her head in confusion.

“How many hooves am Ah holdin' up?”

“Uh...” Hornette paused for a moment, trying to steady her wobbly vision. “...two.”

“An' what's this in mah right hoof?”

“A...an apple?”

To her further bewilderment, Apple Bloom breathed a sigh of relief and gazed at Firelli. “She's okay.”

“Wait, I don't understand,” interrupted Hornette. “What's with all these obvious questions?”

Firelli smiled ruefully. “We were just checking to see if you had concussion,” she explained. “Silver Spoon found you unconscious in the middle of the orchard. It seems you knocked yourself out flying into one of the trees.”

So that's what happened... “Yeah, I...it's coming back to me now. I was flying home with Loco's present, all cheery and full of beans...next thing I knew, I was about to crash into that tree head-on. I managed to dodge it, but then something slugged me from behind, and...that's all I can remember.” Hornette raised a hoof to her head, and only then did she notice the bandage around it.

“You're lucky Silver and I happened to be passing by,” put in Scootaloo. “We were scared you might catch hypothermia out there – and that's saying nothing of the knock you took to your head. I thought we'd need to take you to hospital until Elli had a look at you.”

“Wait...what about Loco's present?” asked Hornette anxiously. “I had it with me in a saddlebag when I left; where's it gone?”

Almost at once, the atmosphere among the five mares around her went from a gentle bedside manner to deep sorrow and regret.

It was Silver Spoon who broke the awkward silence; “Um...maybe you ought to lie down a little longer,” she began nervously. “You know...'cause you're still not 100 percent...”

“But Silver Spoon,” protested Hornette, “I can't possibly rest without knowing what's happened to that model!”

“Well...it's kinda complicated. We did bring the model back with us, but...well, let's say the important thing is that yo' okay...”

“What happened?!” begged Hornette, now completely unnerved.

With a sad frown, Surfie levitated the torn saddlebag onto the bed. “This might come as a shock,” she explained, “but we found it right underneath you, and...it...to cut a long story short...” She said no more, but lifted the flap to reveal the splintered remains.

Hornette's heart sank. “Loco's present – ruined!” she gasped, her eyes glistening with tears. Her once elegant labour of love, this smart little engine she had poured her heart and soul into, now looked a very sorry sight indeed, broken in two by the fall. Its funnel had snapped off, its cab caved in, and its boiler was riddled with scratches. She couldn't believe that all her hard work had so quickly gone to waste...

“We're really sorry, Hornette,” whispered Firelli.

“No...it's my fault,” stammered Hornette. “It's all my fault.”

“No, Hornette, it was just an accident,” objected Silver Spoon. “These things happen to the best of us.”

“They wouldn't have done if I'd been more careful,” sobbed Hornette bitterly, and buried her face in her hooves as she began to cry in earnest. “Now Loco's present is smashed, and...and I've nothing left to give him.”

All the other mares gathered closer, trying to calm her down; but Apple Bloom held back, gazing down at the broken model. Although Hornette had put a lot more effort into it than she had, the farm mare had still felt just as disheartened to see what had become of their work. Her sorrow grew the more she looked at it; but so too did a burning sense of injustice, until it became the voice of determination.

“Not if Ah can help it!” she muttered resolutely.

Steamer looked up at the clock for what felt like the umpteenth time. He had had a busy but enjoyable day at work, only to return home and find that neither Hornette nor Locomotion were anywhere to be seen, and there wasn't even a note to say where they had gone. He wasn't quite so worried about his nephew; he reckoned he might have been held up by last-minute passengers or parcels, but Hornette should have been back hours ago. It was almost midnight now, and he was starting to wonder if he should ask the police to search for her.

A knock at the front door prompted him to stow that thought away for the time being, and he trotted down the hallway to see who it was. Upon opening up, the first thing he saw was Surfie standing outside; and right behind her, much to his relief...

“There you are, Hornette!” exclaimed Steamer. “Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you!”

“Out.” Hornette's reply was flat and despondent.

Steamer stepped back in dismay as the young changeling trudged inside. Hornette had been nothing but cheerful over the past fortnight, and to see her so gloomy and lethargic all of a sudden completely threw him for a loop. “Hornette,” he ventured softly, “what's wrong?”

“I don't want to talk about it, okay?” faltered Hornette with a small crack in her voice. “Please, just leave me be.”

“Come on, Hornette, talk to me,” pleaded Steamer. “I'm only trying to help you. Please tell me what's the matter?”

Hornette only shook her head, hung up her coat and said, “I'm going to bed,” before plodding upstairs. Only then did Steamer notice the bandage on her head; and when he looked back at her coat, he noticed that the back of the hood had been severely tarnished. He stood rooted in place, mouth half-open in shock.

Surfie stepped up next to him. “I guess I'd better explain, Uncle Steamer,” she said gravely, and told him what had happened.

While uncle and niece talked, Hornette slunk miserably into her room, not bothering to turn on the light as she slipped the duvet to one side and flopped down onto her bed. She felt deeply ashamed of herself, and wondered what Locomotion would say when he woke up on Hearth's Warming and found she didn't have a present for him; even though a small part of her knew that she was overthinking it all, and that he could never think so ill of her just for one silly little mishap. But it wasn't just a little mishap, the rest of her thought bitterly – it was a huge one, nay, a disaster…

She looked up again, almost wishing for somepony to come and comfort her. That was when she remembered the first gift that anypony had ever given her – Prairie, her precious changeling doll, sat in the front right corner of the bed, smiling warmly upon her owner. Hornette scooped her up and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Prairie,” she wept, “how am I gonna tell Loco about this? My first present to him...and now it's gone.” She frowned looked down at the mattress. “I don't deserve him...I really don't.”

Although she didn't get a reply from Prairie, the plushy texture of her hide managed to soothe her pain and sadness slightly. If indeed the doll could speak, Hornette knew she would probably be telling her not to put herself down anyway, that Locomotion would understand. Still dizzy from her accident, she settled her head down and cried herself to sleep. Not long afterwards, a lone figure stepped over to her bed, pulled the duvet over her, and quietly tucked her in before giving her a sympathetic nuzzle.

“Goodnight, Hornette,” whispered Steamer solemnly. “Hope you feel better in the morning.” He slipped out of the room and gently closed the door, leaving the young changeling in peace.

Chapter 5: Steamer and Hornette to the Rescue!

Dawn broke over a vast white landscape, and the morning stillness was soon shattered by the giggling of foals as they frolicked in the snow; while the adults worked hard to clear it away from the streets and carry on with their daily lives.

But in the shelter of Steamer's house, far from sharing in the festive joy of the ponies around her, poor Hornette was feeling depressed. Her head injury had healed over nicely, but the loss of Locomotion's present still preyed on her mind. She plodded wearily into the kitchen, barely taking any notice of Steamer.

“Good morning, Hornette,” he said gently. “Feeling better?”

Hornette sighed heavily. “No,” she mumbled, reaching into the fridge for some milk. She didn't feel much like talking right now, and almost felt annoyed at Steamer for rubbing salt into her wound, even though he didn't mean it. What was so good about this morning anyway, she griped inwardly?

“I heard about your accident yesterday,” Steamer went on tentatively. “Must've been a real punch in the gut for you.”

“Yeah,” replied Hornette flatly.

“I'm truly sorry about the model. And after all that hard work too.”

Hornette paused, feeling a small tear trickling down her cheek.

“Do you want a hug?” asked Steamer, holding out an arm.

That did it for the young changeling. Gingerly, she wandered over to him and wrapped her own arms around his withers, letting even more tears loose, but without even the faintest sob. “It was so beautiful, Mr Steamer,” she lamented. “If only you could've seen it for yourself.”

“Mmm, I can imagine,” murmured Steamer thoughtfully. The Claud Hoofingtons had been around long before his time, but he and his nephew had plenty of pictures of them in their early days, before their native Great Eastern Railway was absorbed into the Pennsylhaynia Railroad, and subsequently Equestrian National Railways. They looked so stunning in their original royal blue livery – probably one of the reasons why Locomotion had been so taken by them from an early age.

“It was going to be the best present of all,” sniffed Hornette glumly, “and I just had to go and ruin it.” She sighed again and loosened her grip; “Loco doesn't deserve such a clumsy marefriend as me.”

Steamer pulled back, aghast. “How can you possibly say that?!” he protested. “Why, you're the best thing that's ever happened to him!”

“But what kind of a marefriend works so hard on a present only to destroy it at the last moment?”

“Well, if it comes to that, what kind of marefriend bullies herself over a simple accident?” retorted Steamer. “I know you feel bad about the model, but it's not the end of the world,” he added, softening his voice again. “These things can be replaced, given time – it's you yourself that can't. You could make a Hearth's Warming present fit for a king, and Loco still wouldn't be disappointed if you never gave it to him, because you're the only present he could ever ask for – and don't you forget it, Hornette.”

The young changeling blinked. “You reckon?”

“Oh, I know it,” asserted Steamer. “He's never been happier since you became an item.” He placed a hoof under her chin. “Come on now – you wouldn't want him to come home and see you all miserable, would you?”

Only then did Hornette manage a small, shaky smile. “No...I suppose he wouldn't,” she conceded, and leaned in for another hug – which was promptly interrupted by a frantic rapping at the front door.

“What the hay...?” Steamer hastily broke the hug and galloped over to the door to see what was the matter. Reasoning that it was probably nothing to do with her, Hornette turned back to the counter and poured out some of the milk; but barely took a sip before she heard a horrified exclamation from the hallway, followed by urgent voices. The moment she stepped out to investigate, Steamer turned to her with fear evident in his eyes. “There's an emergency at the shed,” he stated tersely. “The Flying Mistletoe still hasn't returned yet, and the main line is blocked over the Buckskin Mountains.”

“The Flying Mistletoe?!” Hornette went pale. “But...but that's Loco's train!”

“Exactly!” continued Steamer. “They've no idea where he is; the telephone lines were severed during last night's storm. There's every chance he and John are snowbound somewhere between here and Delamare. I'm needed on shed immediately to help find him.”

In an instant, all thoughts of Hearth's Warming presents vanished from Hornette's mind. With her coltfriend and several other helpless souls lost in a snowy wilderness, she could no longer feel sorry for herself – if those poor ponies weren't rescued, their families would be even more distraught, and so would she. Nopony should have to cope with this kind of tragedy on Hearth's Warming. Steeling her resolve, she ripped the bandage from her head and grabbed her coat from the rack. “I'm coming with you, Mr Steamer,” she declared bravely. “You railway ponies will need all the help you can get.”

Steamer pondered for a moment, and finally nodded. “Alright then,” he conceded grimly. “I'll try and talk it through with Max when we get on shed. Come along now, we haven't much time.” Secretly, he couldn't help smiling at the sudden change in Hornette's demeanour. The way she had been talking earlier, it was as if she had completely lost her festive spirit; and now it was back with a vengeance, filling her with determination that those marooned passengers and their crew (and her own beau, to boot) would still get a happy Hearth's Warming. And so, as soon as they were fully kitted out, he hastily scribbled a note, tacked it under the door knocker, and both pony and changeling galloped away towards the depot...

Barely a few minutes later, Firelli and Surfie came round the corner with Sweetie-Belle, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. The five mares still felt bad for Hornette after her accident, and wanted to try and cheer her up somehow.

“Poor Hornette,” murmured Sweetie-Belle, who had only just heard about it from Apple Bloom that morning. “It sure is a shame about her model train.”

“I'll say,” put in Surfie. “She was so torn apart when she saw what was left you wouldn't believe it.”

“Well, maybe a few mince pies and a round of Railroad Baron should pick her up – if Loco hasn't already done so,” said Firelli optimistically.

Apple Bloom, on the other hoof, didn't say anything. She had remained unusually stolid the whole time, only occasionally pitching in with a nod or a hum of agreement.

Scootaloo was quick to notice this “Not very talkative today, are you?” she remarked casually.

“Just thinkin', that's all,” muttered Apple Bloom.

Surfie raised an eyebrow. “What about?”

But Apple Bloom just shrugged and ignored the question. The others tactfully decided not to press any further; whatever was on her mind, she would probably tell them about it once they had settled down in Steamer's living room.

Just as they were passing through the front gate, however, Firelli noticed that something was amiss. All the curtains were still drawn, and there wasn't even a light on inside. “That's odd,” she remarked. “Surely they should be up by now.”

“Well, they did get to bed kinda late,” Surfie pointed out, “and it is Uncle Steamer's rest day today. They're probably just having a lie-in.”

“Yeah, but at eleven o'clock in the morning?” answered Firelli doubtfully. “I'd have thought at least Loco would be up and about.”

“Maybe he ain't even home yet,” suggested Scootaloo. “I'd better go aloft and have a look.”

But before she could take off, Sweetie-Belle noticed something else. “Look!” she squeaked, pointing to the porch. “There's a note pinned to the front door.”

Firelli trotted over to investigate. Pulling the pin away and holding up the note with her left wing, she read its contents out loud;

To anypony who comes knocking,

Nopony home. Flying Mistletoe reported missing, presumed snowbound. Have gone with Hornette and staff at Ponyville MPD to search and rescue.

Signed

Steamer

The scarlet Pegasus' eyes widened with fear. “Oh no!” she gasped under her breath.

“The Flying Mistletoe?” repeated Apple Bloom, finally breaking her stoic facade. “Ain't that the train that Loco was meant ta be workin'?”

“It sure is,” affirmed Surfie. “It should've arrived here at about half-ten last night. That can only mean one thing – trouble!”

“They're gonna need help then,” said Scootaloo. “I'll go tell Rainbow Dash, see if she and Soarin and I can seek them out.”

“No, Scootaloo!” Firelli quickly pulled herself together enough to take control. “Leave it to me – I've overflown the route hundreds of times during flight camp, and I know it like the front of my hoof. I may not be much of an endurance flyer, but I've a better chance of finding them.”

Scootaloo hesitated for a moment. “Well...okay – but I'm coming as your wing-mare in case you do conk out.”

“That's settled then! Surfie, go on back to Mum and Dad and tell them what's going on,” ordered Firelli. “I'll alert Uncle Steamer as soon as I find them,” and both she and Scootaloo took off at once.

“Out of the question!”

“Now just a minute, Max...,” began Steamer.

“You know perfectly well, Steamer,” interrupted Max sharply, “that we can't allow joyriders on our snowplough trains – it's against the rules!”

“But that's my nephew out there! And who said anything about joyriding?!” said Steamer indignantly. “The whole reason I brought Hornette with me was so that she could help us clear the snow!”

“Yes, I know that, Steamer, but Hornette isn't even insured by the company!” insisted Max. “I can't afford to risk lives other than those of our employees, and that includes changelings!”

“You're already risking lives by refusing her help! It could take ages to reach that train, and by then, more than half of them will have frozen to death! With Hornette and her magic, we could get there quicker, and those passengers can get home safely!”

“Look, for the last time...”

“Mr Pressure...”

“Not now, Hornette,” said Max dismissively, and turned his attention back to Steamer. “Look, I know you're concerned for your nephew...

“And Hornette's coltfriend, need I remind you?!”

“...but there is no way that I'm making a needless sacrifice just because...”

But before Max could finish, Hornette lost control of herself and yelled out loud, “WILL YOU TWO STOP ARGUING!!!!”

Both stallions stared at the young changeling, stunned into silence.

“I'm...sorry to interrupt like this,” said Hornette, lowering her voice, “but you must understand, Mr Pressure – I've already come close to losing Loco once, and there's no way I can stand to lose him a second time; nor can I bear the thought of how many ponies must be fearing for their own loved ones. If they don't return home alive...I don't even want to think how their friends and families will feel.” She looked up at the dark brown stallion with pleading puppy eyes full of genuine despair. “I know I'm not a company employee, but please – I implore you – at least give me a chance.”

For once, Max was at a complete loss for words. He had dealt with plenty of distressed ponies whose loved ones had either been lost to or injured in an accident before, particularly the one at Horse Junction several years ago; but none could compare to this young changeling. Not only was she scared for his youngest employee, whom she loved so dearly, but she was willing to risk everything for the sake of everyone on the train, regardless of who they were and how well she knew them. Even if he did obey the rules, he felt somehow that he would end up living to regret it.

Sensing that he had his superintendent cornered, Steamer played his trump card and stared Max directly in the eye. “Now you listen to me, Pressure,” he threatened, “my nephew is stranded out there somewhere with more than two-hundred passengers and fifty crew. He means a lot to me, Fair Isle and Optic Strand, and everything to Hornette. Leave her behind if you will, but I'm holding you personally responsible if anything happens to him.”

“Now hang on, Steamer old pal...”

“DON'T STEAMER OLD PAL ME!!” thundered Steamer. “Hornette is our only hope of reaching them in time! If you refuse her and we find we're too late, you can have my resignation effective immediately – and I'll personally see to it that you're discharged for your misjudgement! Do I make myself clear?!”

Max paused...and nodded gravely. “Yes...I suppose you've more than made your case,” he said gravely. “I still don't think Head Office will approve – but then again,” he added before Steamer could argue any further, “rules were made to be broken.”

“So...does that mean...?”

“Yes, Hornette, you can come along – but only as long as you do as you're told and don't put yourself in any danger,” warned Max. “I doubt Loco would want you hurt any more than you would want to lose him.”

“Thank you, Mr Pressure,” said Hornette gratefully. “You won't regret it, I promise you. And thank you, Mr Steamer, for standing up for me.”

“No problem,” smiled Steamer with satisfaction. “I guess that makes up for my failing to do so three months ago.”

“Okay, you two,” ordered Max, “let's get to it. Get the 602 ready, Steamer. Hornette, you go with him – I'll join you as soon as I've gathered the rescue crews together.”

“Yes, sir!” Without more ado, Steamer and Hornette dashed off to their allotted engine, where Promontory was already building up steam for the long, hard slog towards the stranded train.

Outside, another engine collected two huge snowploughs from a nearby siding; each one resembling an ordinary box van with a wedge built into one end, and a crew compartment big enough to carry several ponies and their tools. Max kept a close eye on the operation, bellowing out orders as track gangers and rescue workers scrambled into the ploughs, while Steamer moved the 602 into place at the head of the train. Soon, the four rescue engines were coupled together, with an extra coach full of gangers in the middle of the train and a plough at each end.

After a final check that all was ready, Max joined Hornette, Steamer and Promontory in the 602's cab – with bad news. “Seems we're in for a harder job than we thought,” he said to Steamer. “I've just had Trottingham on the phone; they say their rotary snowplough's broken down and can't come to help us.”

“Well,” remarked Steamer, almost triumphantly, “just as well I've brought Hornette along then, isn't it?”

Max smiled wryly. “I can't believe I'm saying it, but it sure is,” he conceded. His brow furrowed with concern as he turned to the young changeling; “All the same, Hornette, I'm aware you're kinda susceptible to frostbite and the like, so if you change your mind...”

“Nothing doing, Mr Pressure,” replied Hornette boldly. “As long as Loco's in trouble, I'm not going to let a little thing like snow get to me. Where you guys lead, I'll follow!”

“That's my girl!” encouraged Steamer proudly.

“Good lass,” put in Max. “Alright, Steamer – we're ready as soon as you get the green eye.”

“Okay, Max!” Right on cue, as Steamer leaned out of the cab, the signal arm lifted skywards. He released the brakes, wound the reverser into full forward, and opened the regulator; and with steam bursting from their drain cocks, the four engines lumbered out of the yard, gathering speed as they passed through the station throat and onto the open line.

The light of the morning sun reflected off a fresh layer of snow, rousing Locomotion from a troubled sleep. All he could hear was the crackling of the now diminished fire, and as he peered out of the cab window, he was relieved to see that the weather had calmed. “Thank Celestia for that,” he murmured.

“Say what?” mumbled John, himself on the verge of nodding off.

“Well, good news and bad news,” said Locomotion, pointing outside. “The bad news is, the moving parts are probably seizing up now; but the good news is that the storm's passed. Means we can have a go at digging some of this snow away.”

John rubbed his eyes groggily. “Gee whizz, so it has. You think we might get her out before another one comes?”

“Can't hurt to try. If we can at least keep the outside motion clear, it'll be less likely to freeze.”

“Well, I'll give it my best shot – but you'd better stay here and keep an eye on that fire,” advised John wisely. “We wouldn't want your arm to seize up too.”

“I've no intention of doing it physically. I'm a unicorn, remember?” Locomotion lit up his horn to prove his point. “Anyway, many hooves and horns make light work,” he added, retrieving another shovel from the tender cupboard.

“Hmm...fair enough,” decided John. “Right, then I'll take one side, and you can take the other.”

Wrapping up as warmly as they could, both ponies got out and began to delve away at the deep, thick drift. But while the wind had dropped, and the risk of another avalanche with it, the snow was still falling. No matter how much they dug, they couldn't seem to clear it away quickly enough; and when at last they did reach the moving parts, they found to their dismay that they had already frozen over. In the end, they were forced to retreat back to the cab as the frosty air began to sap their energy.

Locomotion sighed heavily as he climbed back on board. “Well, that went smoothly, didn't it?” he grumbled sarcastically.

“It sure was a good try,” observed John glumly. “I guess the two of us alone just weren't enough.”

“So now we're back to Square One,” muttered Locomotion. “Just sitting around, waiting for the fire to go out and the blinking Windigoes to come in and claim us – unless the snowplough teams beat them to it, that is.” He gazed out of the window again in defeat, thinking longingly of home, Hearth's Warming, but most of all Hornette. The poor changeling was probably eating her heart out she was so afraid for him. “Heaven help us,” he finished despairingly.

Little could he have known, of course, that help was indeed on its way; and that high up in the heavens, Scootaloo and Firelli were anxiously scanning the area for his train. The snow made it hard to identify the route, but true to her word, Firelli still managed to find her way, and within fifteen minutes of leaving Ponyville, they could just make out the rainbow trails of Winsome Falls in the distance.

Finally, as they glided over a ledge cut into the hillside, Scootaloo spotted a thin column of grey smoke. Beneath it stood a huge green engine, simmering mournfully with its wheels surrounded by thick snow. “There they are!” she crowed. “I can see him!”

Firelli followed Scootaloo's gaze, and was overwhelmed with relief when, very faintly, she spotted the headboard bearing the train's name. “Whew!” she sighed. “At least they're alright – for now.”

“What do we do? Dive in and fly Loco home?”

“No chance, Scoot. It's over fifty miles away as the Pegasus flies – we'd never be able to carry him that far, even between us,” said Firelli grimly. Deep down, she wanted nothing more than to come into land and tell her brother what was going on; but the snow was falling so heavily that she knew she might not be able to take off again. “There's only one thing we can do, and that's fly straight home and let Uncle Steamer know where he is.”

“Right!” With that, the two Pegasi banked sharply round and flew back the way they came.

It wasn't long before they came upon another four columns of smoke and steam, much thicker and heavier than the last, just outside Ponyville Central Station. Swooping down low, Firelli drew alongside the 602's cab until she had matched the engines' speed, and shouted to its occupants as loudly as she could. “Hornette! Uncle Steamer!”

“Elli? What is it?”

“We've found Loco!” called Firelli. “He's stranded about a mile short of Mallerstang Signalbox!”

“Great! Thanks, Elli – we'll take it from here!” Steamer waved back as a weary Firelli climbed back into the air for the last few miles of her homeward flight. Hang in there, Loco old sport, he thought as they forged ahead, we're coming!

Chapter 6: Dashing Through The Snow

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.”

Author's Note

The methods employed to clear the drifts and free the engine are taken from the 1955 British Transport Films documentary, Snowdrift at Bleath Gill; as is Hornette's remark about breaking up the drifts before tackling them with the ploughs. Deryck Guyler's commentary describes it as "like eating landlady's cake - the more it's divided, the easier it is to get through."

Epilogue

The next day, a light engine collected “Element of Loyalty” from Horse Junction, and brought her back to Ponyville where she was thoroughly inspected. She was none the worse for her adventure, but just to be on the safe side, Max ordered that she left to thaw out at the back of the shed.

It took a while for Locomotion to recover from his snowy ordeal, and he was thankful he had so little shopping left to do. Steamer gladly took care of it on his behalf, while Hornette stayed at home to help him wrap presents and generally make sure he was alright, offering him a blanket or a warm drink at the slightest shiver. Locomotion did feel a little henpecked, but ultimately he couldn't complain – at least it gave him a good excuse to snuggle on the sofa with his changeling.

By the time Hearth's Warming Eve rolled by, all their cards had been posted, all their presents wrapped and delivered, and the final batches of cookies and pies baked and ready for the big day. Steamer even took the liberty of cleaning the chimney in the living room that evening. “No point risking our presents getting all sooty on Hearth's Warming,” was his excuse.

Locomotion chuckled at that, and winked at Hornette; “More likely he's just clearing the way for Rudolph,” he quipped.

“Eh? Why the chimney?”

“Didn't I tell you?” went on Locomotion. “When the Gift Bringers are out delivering presents, Rudolph actually goes down the chimney at each house he comes to, and places the presents under the Hearth's Warming tree.”

Hornette's eyes widened with intrigue. “So...if I were to sleep down here tonight...”

“Ah-ah-ah,” interrupted Steamer in a chastising tone. “He won't visit unless little ponies and changelings are tucked away in bed. Anyway, you've lost enough sleep rescuing Loco; it won't do to lose more over the Nine Gift Bringers.”

Hornette was disappointed, but quietly reassured herself that at least her tender heart would have a present for her, even if Rudolph didn't. She retired to bed that night with a deep sense of anticipation, dreaming of the Nine Gift Bringers of Hearth's Warming, and wondering what they and Locomotion had in store for her...

No-one stirred as a lone, antlered figure in a red hat and cloak slipped quietly down the chimney and emerged from the hearth. Checking all the time to make sure they weren't being watched, the mysterious stranger took a small wrapped present from the sack they had been carrying, placed it under the tree with the others, and filled the small stockings on the mantelpiece with sweets before climbing up the chimney again. Once out in the open, they drifted down from the roof and hovered close to Hornette's bedroom with a warm smile.

“Happy Hearth's Warming, Hornette,” whispered the figure, and glided away into the night.

Hearth's Warming Day dawned bright, crisp and cold over Equestria. Throughout the nation, ponies young and old awoke to the glorious sight of presents waiting to be opened, and one by one, their homes twinkled with fairy lights and echoed to the sound of carols being sung. In Steamer's house, as was usual for his favourite holiday of the year, Locomotion was the first to wake up. His joyous singing as he pranced downstairs soon roused Steamer and Hornette as well, and they enjoyed a hearty breakfast together before decanting into the living room to hang out until the rest of the family came. Locomotion and Hornette were keen to open their presents, but Steamer wouldn't let them.

“Good things come to those who wait,” he told them patiently.

Shortly before noon, their patience was rewarded with the arrival of Locomotion's parents and siblings, and they all gathered outside to raise the Equestrian flag. Fair Isle had intended to follow tradition and allow her youngest son Rocky Mohawk, a red-maned unicorn with a greyscale coat, to fly the flag; but Steamer and Locomotion respectfully objected in favour of Hornette, reasoning that although Rocky was only eight, the young changeling had only been part of the family for less than five months.

“Besides,” added Locomotion, “she kinda deserves it, after helping rescue me and my passengers.”

Firelli and Surfie warmly agreed, and even Rocky couldn't be disappointed – he had already flown one flag back home, so at least he wasn't missing out. Hornette beamed gratefully as she accepted the flag from Fair Isle, hoisting it up the flagpole until it flapped proudly above their heads. Once this was done, they headed inside and hung their dolls from the mantelpiece one by one. Locomotion had never been particularly keen on crocheting, nor was he very good at it, so his “doll” instead took the form of a model locomotive, which he had made himself from bits of junk many years ago. It had grown a little shabby with the passing of time, but Hornette agreed that it suited him a lot better than a doll.

Finally, after a filling Hearth's Warming lunch, the whole family gathered in the living room for the part that Locomotion and Hornette had been looking forward to most of all – with the young couple settled under a shared blanket by the fireplace, they all began opening the many presents that awaited them under the tree. With each one she opened, from the simple bauble she received from Surfie with a stylised changeling painted on, to the honey-based recipe book that Fair Isle gave her, Hornette felt her heart swell ever more with warm gratitude; and with everypony so happy and bright, she wasn't short of free love to snack upon. She was only sorry she didn't have anything for her stallion...

“Aw, wow!” Locomotion's umpteenth exclamation of delight broke her out of her thoughts. “I can't believe you managed to...blimey, Dad, this is fantastic!”

“What is?” asked Hornette.

“This old-time OO-scale Pullmare parlour car from Bridleway Limited Imports,” said Locomotion, holding up the model for all to see. “I'd had that on my wish list for ages! How did you even afford it anyway, Dad?” he went on, visibly mystified. “Those things cost, like, 35 bits.”

“Not where I found it,” smiled Optic Strand knowingly. “You remember those court cases regarding Hornette?”

Locomotion nodded. “Yeah, I remember – while I was in hospital in El Pinto, you and Mum had to testify for me and Hornette. And as I also recall, Princess Celestia herself took up the cases in connection with the changeling peace talks.”

“Which meant that your mother and I had to travel up to Canterlot for most of the proceedings,” explained Steamer. “While we were there, I came across a model railway shop not too far from the castle. They were having a sale there, which included those very coaches, so I thought I'd buy one for your Hearth's Warming present.”

“What was the discount?”

“30 percent off, so only 24 bits.”

“Twenty-four? For a Bridleway Limited Pullmare?” Locomotion could only smile warmly at this revelation. “Aw, thanks, Dad.”

“That's alright, Loco.” Optic Strand gave his son a kindly nuzzle.

With a wistful smile of her own, Hornette reached out for another present; but was promptly interrupted by Firelli as she scooped up a smaller package and passed it over to Locomotion. “Might want to open this one next, Loco,” she suggested innocently. “It looks like something special.”

“Oh right?” Locomotion took the present in his magic and read the label out loud.

"Dear Loco,

Season's Greetings to you and your family. I am delighted with how hard you have worked to ensure everypony has a happy Hearth's Warming, and as a token of appreciation, I have sent you this extra present on behalf of your closest friend in the world.

Yours Sincerely,

Rudolph."

Locomotion raised a puzzled eyebrow as he came to the “closest friend in the world” part. There was only one thing that could possibly mean, but... “I thought you said you hadn't got anything for me,” he said to Hornette, perplexed.

“I hadn't.” Hornette looked just as confused. “I didn't even have the time after we got back from rescuing you.”

“And that writing,” added Locomotion, “looks strangely familiar too. What that says to me is that either this is a well-intentioned Hearth's Warming prank, or someone's deliberately letting you take the credit for their own present.”

“Well, only one way to find out, eh Loco?” goaded Steamer.

Locomotion gazed at him. “Uncle?” he asked suspiciously. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“I don't know. But neither will you until you open that thing.”

The red-furred stallion shrugged and rolled his eyes. Steamer sure was being cryptic today, he thought – surely he must have known about this present. Regardless, he tore away the wrapping paper; and stared in wide-eyed disbelief at what he saw inside! There, in his own two front hooves, right before his very eyes, was a little wooden engine, its royal blue paint shining like sapphire.

Hornette's jaw dropped open. “What?! But...how did...it can't be!” she spluttered incredulously. “That thing was broken! I swear it!”

“What was broken?” asked Fair Isle, not quite understanding.

“That engine I carved for Loco,” answered Hornette, as Locomotion held up the model for all to see.

Fair Isle raised a hoof to her mouth in amazement. “Oh my goodness!” she gasped. “You made that all by yourself?”

“Well...with Apple Bloom's help, yes,” affirmed Hornette, blushing modestly despite her bewilderment.

“Aw, Hornette, that looks wonderful,” admired Fair Isle.

“I'll say it does,” said Locomotion at last, “but how is it still in one piece? You said that thing was beyond repair.”

“Yeah, that's what I...thought.” It was then that Hornette spotted a scribbled note among the wrapping paper. She levitated it out so that she and Locomotion could both read it, and was deeply touched by what it said;

I know this must be a bit of a shock to you, Loco, but I couldn't stand to see Hornette's hard work go to waste. I thought it prudent, especially after she saved you and so many others who might never have seen another Hearth's Warming without her help, to fix this up for you as best as I could. I hope I've done it justice.

Your Good Friend

Apple Bloom

The young changeling brushed away a small tear. You sure have, Apple Bloom, she thought gratefully as she eyed the model again – apart from a few tiny dents, it looked so perfect and brand new that you wouldn't have known it had ever been broken. “Thank you so much,” she whispered happily.

“And thank you too, Hornette,” added Locomotion fondly. “This has to be the most amazing gift I've ever received this year.” He leaned in for a kiss; only to pull back after a brief second as another thought occurred to him. “There's just one thing that puzzles me...”

“Yes?”

“...how did this thing end up under the tree without us cottoning on?”

“Well,” put in Firelli cryptically, “let's put it this way – the Nine Gift Bringers placed it there only last night.”

It was then that Locomotion noticed a small, sooty red and yellow feather lying just in front of the fireplace. He stared at it for a moment, his eyes growing misty as the pieces fell together in his mind. “Yes,” he murmured at last.

“Say what now?” asked Hornette.

“A few weeks ago, you were asking if the Nine Gift Bringers of Hearth's Warming would deliver to changelings...and it seems they have, in a way.” Locomotion said no more, but smiled gratefully to Firelli who winked in return. Only then did Hornette catch on, and she herself couldn't help but break into a hearty smile herself. So there really is a Rudolph, she thought.

“Speaking of which,” continued Locomotion, “here's one from me. It's not much, but...you know, it's the thought that counts, right?” With a slightly uneasy look on his face, he levitated the present in question from behind the tree and watched his marefriend rip it open. She gasped in delight when she saw what it was...

“Wow, Loco!” exclaimed Firelli. “Where did you get that?”

“The Hearth's Warming market at Fort Maine,” said Locomotion matter-of-factly. “One of the stalls there was selling blown glass ornaments of various kinds, and I thought this cricket figurine might...possibly fit the bill?”

“Why a cricket?” pondered Steamer curiously.

“Chineighse symbol of good luck and prosperity. Thorax tells me they have the same meaning for changelings.” Locomotion turned to Hornette; “I hope you don't mind...I...”

“Mind?!” Before Locomotion could react, Hornette wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him again, much more passionately this time. “Loco, I couldn't have asked for a better present from you,” she said emphatically as she pulled back for air. “I expected something like...a snow globe, maybe, or a picture book – but this?” She paused, cradling the ornament in her hooves. “You're such a sweetheart, Loco. I love you.”

“And I you, Hornette. Forever and always.” Locomotion looked on with a broad smile of fulfilment as Hornette levitated the cricket onto the mantelpiece. Secretly, he had envied Rarity for being the first pony to give the young changeling a gift, and wished he could have beaten her to the punch; but seeing Hornette so happy, he no longer cared. All that mattered, he told himself, was that his own first present to her had brought her at least as much joy as her Prairie doll – if not more. He nuzzled her lovingly, earning a hearty purr as they embraced. “Happy Hearth's Warming, my honeybee,” he whispered; and Hornette and the others all murmured warmly in kind.

This day, she considered, had truly been a Hearth's Warming to remember.