Over there, far up ahead and above solid ground was a wooden bridge over a waterfall's descending, crashing river. On it was a train chugging along, rolling on with its wheels and its puffs of ringed smoke. The train was bright in its different hues: light brown and purple, pink and cyan, blue windows and yellow accents with a bit of white on top. Windows and lights shaped like hearts completed the friendly look of the train.
Over the rushing waterfall and its zooming waters, past the peaks of the smaller yet craggy mountains, closer and closer now to the stable and calm grass with the smooth river beside them. That thunderous clashing of the wheels and the railroad only added to the atmosphere of busy Canterlot in such a busy yet peaceful morning.
Now inside the city proper, past several of those buildings of white and yellow and purple—of that royal architecture and style, too. Whizzing through the combined airs of the fancy streets—a mixture of perfumes and colognes that conveyed wealth and status, of aromas and odors that told of cooked and fried foods, and of fragrances that were natural such as those from the roses and lavenders nearby, lining up a florist's store helmed by a mare with a lavender herself on her purple mane—she was behind a table that displayed her array of bouquets that boasted of more than just roses and lavenders for there were ribes, dandelions, hawksbeards, robinias, tulips, and yet many more, but anyone who was inside the train could only catch a few seconds at most before they could summarize in their heads a good majority of what those flowers were.
More structures of regal standing and gleaming windows and ornaments, more ponies in their posh and proper suits and gowns and arrogant faces pointed upwards—these were passed by the train as it slowed, decelerating as the wheels' clanking quieted and slowed, too, until it arrived at the train station in full stop.
The train station of Canterlot was, like most of the buildings in the capital, was made of that fancy elegance of those three colors: white, yellow, and purple. Tall glass windows and facades decorated with diamonds and other symbols of prosperous opulence, showing brilliance and the interiors inside which had checkered floors, potted plants at strategic places, waiting benches were more than a few ponies were, well, waiting with suitcases and briefcases and bags and a longing gaze past the window and upon that vibrant train, doors not yet being open. Already, several ponies took their belongings and trotted their way outside and stepping on to the flat wooden platform that stood as the meeting place that united and reunited friends and family—even one pony, an Earth pony stallion with a somber fedora and a monochromatic suit and a colorful cutie mark that had an image of balloons and streamers, held a picture close to his eyes: a picture of him, a mare, and two foals all smiling happily at the camera behind a wide waterfall with its white tips and its roaring yet beautiful figure yet more beautified by the rainbow falls in the background.
A smile played on his lips as the doors opened.
The mare and the foals that matched the descriptions.
"Honey!" he shouted, taking off his hat and revealing a curly yellow mane, bringing his smile into full-blown grin.
"Aww, I hope you had an OK time here, Ribbon Tail!" the mare yelled, hugging him and pulling the foals into the loving embrace.
As pleasantries and pleasant exchanges were made between the members of the reunited family, there were more ponies and other creatures stepping on to the platform, exiting the train. They were mixed with those who were in a hurry to get inside, dashing and going. Among those who just left the train, there were some griffons here, a few changelings there, and lots of ponies at the train station, either already with the ones that they were looking forward to or looking here and there.
One of them was a mare with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and straight mane. She was part of the latter group, straining her eyes as she lighted up her horn and adjusted the glasses with her magic, not lifting a hoof to even touch it. Tilting her head and leaning over here, she examined the inside of the train station, checking each and every bench that had a pony on it without even entering the place.
She let out a groan. "Where are they? They said that they'd be here by now." Seeing the grand clock on the wall with its audible ticking and tocking, she shook her head. "Train's on time, so it's not my fault." Going for a second round of checking the benches, she drew in some breath but, without saying a word, exhaled, looking a little forlorn.
Looking up, she saw, in another building, a small white balcony. An umbrella and some overgrown flora, a green bush over the fence hanging over the streets. "Hm. Not there, either."
The platform cleared out, she being one of the few who were still there.
The doors closed, the chimney puffed out more ringed smoke, and the wheels' clashing and clanking started again and the train got moving, slowly at first. Then, it was out of the station.
"Hey! Dally News!"
Dally News turned away from the station, and round to the ponies who were across the railway.
Letting out another groan, she hopped off of the platform, traversed the tracks, and was in the company of Watts Onion, Isobar, and Wakes Week along with a cart of covered things and items.
They were in the middle of a casual furor in Canterlot—the fancy unicorns walking on the sidewalk and strutting whatever they had at hoof while tourists took pictures of this and that which somehow caught their fancy (and, of course, there were the tourists who pointed hoofs at an incessant pace); guards in their uniform armor stood with neutral and blank expressions with their eyes expertly tracking ponies of interest and shifting from one to another, and then there were more guards who were on their patrols, walking or flying at a manageable speed and observing their surroundings in their act of guarding and patrol. Amidst it all were the rest of the ponies who weren't fancy unicorns nor curious tourists (whether taking pictures or pointing at things or both) nor armored royal guards. They were in no rush—despite the flurry of activity around them, they trudged on and advertised their wares, bought some products, played some tunes, talked amongst themselves about the weather and the day's politics and the events depicted by a newspaper. Speaking of newspapers, newspaper stands were in front of some buildings, most of them restaurants and laid-back eateries; there were those that were close to empty and then there were those filled to the brim with various names in bold, special fonts such as "The Canterlot Chronicle," "Canterlot Daily," "Inkwell Gazette," "The Canterlot Sun," "Ponyville Express," "Ponyville Chronicle," as well as magazines and comics like "POWER," "Cosmare," "Vanity Mare," and so on.
"So," Watts Onion began, addressing the three ponies, "let's get on our way to—"
And Wakes Week and Dally News hugged each other, giggling and then laughing as they exchanged words of expressed of friends' miss.
"OK," Onion said slowly, watching the two let go of each other as they went on to questions of how one was and answers to that sort of question. "I'll let you two girls be while I try to find my way to the—"
Isobar stopped him with an outstretched wing. "No, sir. Princess Luna can wait. In fact, she's probably sleeping."
"It's called 'early,' Isobar," Onion argued.
"I'm not letting the journey turn bad before we even begin," Isobar said. "And, with the excess amount of time we have to ourselves because of you not thinking this through, there's plenty of opportunity of things going awry."
"It's going to go just fine," Onion shot, becoming more expressive with his forehooves.
"That's what everypony has said about bigger problems," the pegasus replied, sporting a smug and annoyed face. "They surely didn't get out of it the same ponies in the end."
Onion sighed, placing a hoof on to his head. "Alright, Isobar, you win this fight!"
"I'm not fighting," Isobar said, sounding more irritated. Then, sighing as well, he placed a hoof around his friend's head and put on a smile. Glancing to this and that side, he said, "Alright, remember: We shouldn't let petty disagreements like this take over and stain our friendships. I mean, we're ponies! We shouldn't be punching each other over ice cream flavors! We have a Princess of Friendship!"
"And it's not like we follow all of the lessons she learned with her friends," Onion said, sporting a smug smile. "I bet you were unfriendly at least once despite her being the Princess of Friendship."
"That's not the point," Isobar said, raising both of his hooves in protest. "Twilight Sparkle herself, plus her friends, sang an entire song about being flawless and imperfect. They become unfriendly at times and we view them as the poster ponies of friendship."
"But, if you're saying that to excuse yourself, then your point is moot and invalid at the same time." Onion then crossed his arms and gave Isobar a rival glare.
The pegasus stomped the clean pavement with a hoof. "It's not excusing yourself if I could prove that my point is valid and not moot."
"Then, prove it." Onion raised his eyebrows and kept his eyes half-open.
Isobar grunted at that. "It's—uh, it's—well, you're not making a good point yourself!"
"I thought it was about attacking the argument and not the pony!"
"I am attacking your argument and not you!"
"Uh, can you stop your arguing?" Wakes Week said. "I can't even hear my own thoughts with all that ruckus going on."
The two mares were now staring at the two stallions caught in mid-fight. Their eyes with shrunken irises were focused on the accusing stares.
Dally News, still in her mean stare, magically adjusted her glasses again. She muttered, "I think I need to get a new pair of glasses."
Wakes Week glanced at her, then slowly nodded, turning to the stallions. "Well—" putting on a wide grin "—let's enjoy Canterlot while we're here! Onion, you said that we cannot visit Princess Luna until sunset, so let's see where the day takes us! Not to mention that it's Dally News's third time being here outside of professional business reasons."
Dally News hummed and nodded in response. "Yeah, let's mellow down, shall we, boys?"
Onion gulped.
Then, a slap on the face by a wing.
"You got yourself into that first," Isobar said, putting on a smirk as he followed the mares now walking away.
Onion, blinking, then went at their pace and rejoined the group of friends.
Beside a diamond-checkered house where a few mares were watering the plants at the windows' fronts, there was a white and pink and yellow shop. Tall windows adorned this one and a solid yellow canopy housed a big model strawberry donut in the sight of all that were passing by.
A simple wooden door with a simple lamp hanging above led one inside into, first, a grand sweet smell of sugary delight. Checkerboard walls with yellow-green walls and graceful lights that weren't lit; wooden pink tables and wooden chairs of pink and brown; more lights hanging from the wall, reducing the crampness of the huge room; the tall windows letting in the bright, ethereal rays of sunlight shining upon the customers at their tables at the line leading to the counter.
The counter and the area behind it had a donut abundance: plain donuts, chocolate donuts, strawberry donuts, vanilla donuts, sprinkled donuts, caramel donuts, blueberry donuts, orange donuts, glazed donuts—added on to these were whole donuts and bagels and more, and when one would also bring in the numerous combinations of the above, the variety of donuts available was nigh limitless.
And the pony behind it all was a unicorn with somewhat rough brown mane and baker's clothes: a white shirt and a white hat.
With the pony in front of him leaving and holding a paper bag with her mouth, the baker looked at the next customer in front of him.
"First time I've seen you around here," the baker said in a gruff voice which was still lively. "I'm Joe and what donuts do you want?"
Watts Onion quivered his lips as he eyed the donuts inside the glass heat display. The labels told him what they were and their price: "Plain Donuts, half a bit," "Chocolate Donuts, one bit," "Strawberry Donut, one bit," "Orange Caramel Glazed Donut, three bits."
"Uh, I know you're new here," Joe interrupted, "but do you mind speeding up? There's a long line behind you."
Onion looked back.
More than a few ponies were in line. One was checking the wrist watch on his hoof, another coughed, and still another was glaring at him with angry eyes.
Onion shuddered as he quickly turned away and at Joe and then back at the dounts.
His eyes rested upon each line of flavors. Sweat poured down on his face, his teeth slightly clattering.
"Are you OK, sir?" Joe asked. "You don't look well—"
"I'm fine, sir," Onion said, holding up a hoof at the baker. "I'm completely fine, sir! I just, uh, choose my donuts with, uh, precision?"
Joe sighed. "Is this your first time eating a donut?"
"W-what? No, it isn't!"
Joe gave him a bothered look. "Your second time, then."
Onion hurriedly nodded.
Joe sighed again. "What if I just give you an assortment of, say, a dozen? I assure you that you'll like the selection."
Onion nodded, saying "Yes, yes, I would like any donut right now!"
Joe gave the unicorn one last strange look before, using his tongs, he brought a hoofful of donuts from here and there within the glass display, placed them inside a large box in neat order, and then closed it with his magic, his horn glowing. Hoofing the box to Onion, he said, smiling a little, "I hope you end up enjoying it! That would be twelve bits."
Onion's horn glowed and out of his saddle bag came twelve bits that he placed on the counter. Taking the box with his magic, he walked away.
Joe looked on at the pony. He had a curious look. "Huh."
"So, we've went to the glasses store, took a walk in the park, took a stroll on the streets, went to the library, visited a museum, checked out what's going on in the opera house, and went all the way here to buy some donuts to eat and it's not even noon?!"
"Don't go asking me," Dally News said, now wearing a thinner pair of glasses.
Onion sighed at the table. Looking at the gathered friends, he said, "At least we could enjoy this time together."
"And you better enjoy it," Isobar said. "Take your mind off of Winsome Falls for a while and relax with us."
"Yeah, Onion," Wakes Week said. "We have many hours to spend with each other! We already talked about the journey being a chance to strengthen our friendships, so why not try to strengthen them right now?"
Dally News nodded at that.
Onion looked at all three of his friends there.
Then, he opened the box.