He reached the outskirts of Everfree and waited for his love to make her appearance. As he waited, his eyes were caught by a rather pretty flower growing from a stump. The blossom was an interesting shade of purple with a silverish highlight. It was the sort of flower that might look good decorating a certain mare's mane. While he was considering the flower, there was the tiniest of rustles. "'Afternoon, Zecora," said Macintosh, without looking up. He heard an extremely faint gasp and Macintosh smiled to himself.