The Search in Winsome Falls

by Comma Typer

Fourbeat

The train stopped once again.

The doors opened, letting in that natural night's chill. Several ponies and changelings shivered but, notably, the griffons who were there did not even shake a feather much less kept themselves warm by quavering.

Out on the wooden platform, the station they were in was not something to boast of (for the fancy Canterlot unicorns, at least): A shabby bungalow-style building that looked more like a simple family's house than a place where trains come and go bringing their passengers of both famous and unknown import. Nonetheless, it functioned as a train station as no one (except the fancy Canterlot unicorns) spoke a single word about the train station they were in, turning to other topics as they walked into the quiet night of the rurals.

As the four soon-to-be-adventuring ponies walked among the exiting crowd, they looked around—Isobar with baggy eyes and a yawn but those did not stop him from letting out an expression of admiration.

First of all, the night sky was still above them. The stars and the moon were still shining at their spots, but they lent to the ground a unique atmosphere for each and every city, town, and village.

Then, there was Fourbeat itself: a tiny village that was a lot like Ambling but a lot different from it. While a few buildings were on the flat surface of grass, more than a few were dangling from above, overhanging from the mountains. There were not that many dirt roads—there were only several junctions and intersections for the structures to be at the side of.

The inhabitants of Fourbeat were wearing jackets and muffed hats. There was no snow, yet they could see their own breath—a white mist that faded out as soon as it faded in. While the only griffon passengers flew quite freely in the cold night, those who stayed on the ground kept shivering even if just a little.

An inhabitant sneered at the shivering group, proudly pointing to himself—clothed in thick jackets over jackets over shirts, hats over hats and earmuffs over earmuffs while holding a steaming hot cup of thick chocolate—marshmallows, too.

The domestic tourists looked up at the mountains in awe as they took another good look at the perilous edifices high up there. Firm lines of rope jutted from some of those buildings, heading to and ending at some large warehouses on the ground, specifically at the balconies where a small club of ponies were stationed at, filling the suspended containers with stuff before one of them gave the rope a good hit. Then, the container steadily moved away from the warehouse and the ponies there, rising higher and higher toward an alpine house of woord up there.

Wagons, carts—these were aplenty in Fourbeat. There were many ponies in the delivery business (as could be seen in most of them by their burly muslces, their distinct uniforms with their recognizable hats, or both) chatting with each other in the contrasting lights of a house or of a store all under a chilly night.

As the group of passengers went by, over there—beside a house's window showing a family of coldy clothed ponies eating a cabbage and noodle dinner coupled with cakes and pies on the side—a conversation was in motion between a brown, curly-haried pony carrying a small stamped box and a white pegasus carrying a saddle bag.

"That's all?" the Earth pony asked.

"I think that would be all for the order," the pegasus said. "But, don't you think it's a little too much for them there?"

"I always assume the best," the Earth pony replied. "Those brothers have gotten better about what's right and wrong over the years."

"But before that, they've gotten worse. I don't forget what they did to the pegasi of Stratusburg and those rigged awards at the flight competition."

"What would you expect if you got beaten by the Elements of Harmony themselves?" the Earth pony asked. "Sure, they were overconfident about everything when they did their business in Ponyville, but to have victory over the farm and then to have it all taken away right there and then?"

"No wonder Flim and Flam are having a hey day running not just Las Pegasus but also this...thing."

"The foresting business?"

"It's a deforesting business, that's certain."

"And, what's wrong with that?" He placed his parcel on a nearby table where various loaded bags and boxes with stamps were. "As long as they follow the rules and regulations set out by the committee, then Flim and Flam are going to do just—"

"Are you blind? Have you seen what they did during their tenure in Las Pegasus which is still going on today?"

"They're doing a more honest job than Gladmane?" the Earth pony asked sincerely.

The pegasus placed a hoof on his chin, scrutinizing with his eyes. "Well, maybe they're doing a less cruel job than Gladmane but it's certainly not more honest. Flim and Flam are certified con ponies."

"Wait, con ponies can get certified in the science of conning?"

The pegasus slammed his own face with a hoof. "No! I was just using 'certified' as a metaphorical—argh! Nevermind—they're just good at parting ponies away from their hard-earned cash."

"I knew that."

"Then, why are you giving them the benefit of the doubt?"

"Perhaps their stint in Las Pegasus has mellowed them?"

"You think running an entire city is going to mellow these con ponies? It's going to make them brazen in tricking all of us!"

"How do you know?" The Earth pony leaned on the table and crossed his front hooves.

"I just know."

"Well, I just know that I'm going to find a treasure chest right inside this house," he said, gesturing a hoof towards the window. "That's not enough for me to really know, right?"

The pegasus sighed. "Let's take care of this later, Parcel Post?"

He nodded, picking up his parcel and looked around, whistling a tune as the pegasus hovered over the air—both of them waiting as they looked at the other delivery ponies who were gathered there in the area.

---

The house was a bit off from the old, beaten path of some carriages and ponies. It had two floors though it seemed like it had one and a half—in other words, it was quite short. Two chimneys rose from it, one emitting black smoke out into the open air, dimming the glittering night sky a little.

The house was surrounded by overrunning shrubbery and greenery—a few wild bushes and weeds were here and there along with a tall tree a stone's throw away. The walls were made of concrete, the roofs were tiled, the windows were normal enough. A wooden door was the front entrance—nothing too formal, for it was a just a house.

If one took some steps back and beheld the house in all its candor, the picture one would see was a pretty sight: A house on the ground set against the backdrop of a towering, ragged cliff with those buildings that looked just like it hanging over a great chunk of air. The lights that were on in those far-away structures gave the mountains an exotic feel, also further enhancing the image of that house on the ground.

The tick-tock of the clock went on as a pony led the four while carrying a huge clock with his magic, nearing the door. "I'm sorry for the poor arrangements, but we've been short-staffed as of late," the unicorn attendant explained—he was wearing a casual shirt with a loose tie. "Everypony's off to see the Pony Tones perform later tonight—you did catch a glimpse of them, didn't you?"

"Who's they?" Onion asked as they walked on the dirt road.

"Quartet or quintet of singers," Dally News answered, adjusting her glasses again with her magic as they glowed green. "Rarity, Big McIntosh, Torch Song, and Toe Tapper—sometimes Fluttershy appears, too, but sometimes she doesn't."

"Is she there now?" Isobar asked. "Do you know?"

"I'm a little sleepy myself," Wakes Week spoke up, "but I'm down for a concert!"

"When I fix up this clock," the attendant said, stopping to face the group while still floating that large timepiece, "I'll go straight to the center of town with you guys!"

Dally News nodded. "Then, it's—" She looked at Onion "—uh, don't you wanna go?"

"I'll h-help him," Onion said, pointing a shy hoof to the attendant entering the house with that glowing, floating clock. "He's kind of helpless right now."

"No, no, don't worry!" the attendant said. "I can handle this just fine! In fact, you ponies go on up ahead—I'll make the necessary preparations to your room and I'll catch up."

"Like mustard, eh?" Isobar blurted out.

The unicorn stared at the offending pegasus blankly. "Get out of here."

---

A wooden sign touted the place as "Fourbeat's Town Square." Some ponies on the way there—passing under the bright lights from inside and within the chilling weather there—were arguing over semantics about whether Fourbeat was really a town or not—one even brought out a list of community classifications with various numbers being associated with certain terms like "village," "town," "city," "very big city," and so on; therefore, the square being of a town called Fourbeat was brought into question. When those ponies arrived at the square, the debate changed into one over the word "square"—was it really fitting, a daring pony proposed, to call it a square when it did not even have four sides to begin with? Indeed, the "square" was not of a square shape but, instead, was just a worn-out circle of stony ground already populated with budding flowers and bushes on the sides and at the corners. So, "Fourbeat's Town Square," as a name, was being under attack due to its questionable validity.

Which did not matter much to the rest of the party of ponies and other creatures. An Earth pony shushed them loudly—prompting the amateur orators and spokesponies to keep their mouths closed.

Tall buildings—not skyscrapers, but still respectably tall—surrounded the square; thus, the area felt cramped yet cozy, constrained yet comfortable as those attending the to-be performance had to come close and to convene around each other. This elicited more light-hearted chats and talks between various ponies—several were gushing about seeing the Pony Tones for the first time, others were expressing interest about what songs they would perform next, and still others were asking the locals about how Fourbeat was right then. Meanwhile, those discussions brought about ephemeral, cool mists around.

The stage at the far end of the square was a plain one—a wooden platform and a backstage, both separated by a wide purple curtain with a patched image of the five Pony Tones on its surface: a white, dazzling unicorn; a brawny, sturdy Earth pony a bigger than the rest; a cream, smaller Earth pony with a mane sparkling with jewelry; a thin, well-combed blue Earth pony; and a yellow pegasus whose long mane covered half of her face.

Stage lights were set—almost burning the stage with great brightness and heat and also signalling to all who were watching that the Pony Tones were, yes, not on stage yet; it was quite barren and empty and though a few ponies sought their way to get up, the stocky guards with their uniforms prevented any of them from achieving that goal.

It was a dynamic night—the chatter, the waiting, the many who were there, the empty stage all culminated into a buzzing air that reeked of impatience, each second ticking by as one would, somehow, hear the ticking of a pony's watch if he was near enough despite the volume of the collected chitchat.

"I wonder what's the occasion this time," Isobar said, huddling close to his three friends and shielding them from incoming newcomers busting their way through; he was speaking, or at least trying to speak, above the din of other words and sounds. "I don't know anything about this place. Is it their anniversary or something?"

"I don't remember seeing any banners about an anniversary on the way here," Wakes Week said. "That would've been a more appropriate time to have a performance, though. Imagine it: The ponies here are going to attend because they're celebrating the anniversary, and ponies outside are going to attend because they're visiting and why are they visiting? Because it turns out to be the town's anniversary."

"It couldn't afford to have an anniversary blowout if it could manage to get the Pony Tones here," Dally News countered.

"But, the Pony Tones usually perform for free," Wakes Week pointed out. "I think Rarity is the leader of the troupe and, well, she has no qualms about setting up a day of singing with free admission just like they do with just about every time they sang in public."

"You added the word 'usually,'" Dally News responded. "Maybe this is one of those times when they're not doing it for free."

At that moment, a hurrying freckled blue Earth pony stepped his way between the four ponies. "Sorry—whoops, sorry!" Then, he quickly went out of sight, lost in the crowd.

Dally News groaned. "Those impeders. Always rushing in without any consideration for those around them!"

"Please calm down, Dally!" Wakes Week said, lowering her friend's raised hoof. She fixed the glasses on her friend herself which had gone hanging lopsided. "Remember that we're here for the Pony Tones—we're here so anything else should be fine for us!"

"I'm not going to let them ruin tonight," she muttered before turning her attention towards the empty stage.

It was still empty.

Onion was sweating profusely, biting his lip as his eyes with tiny irises dashed here and there, obscuring his vision as he focused on this pony and that pony, on this streetlight and on that window on some random building he chose. He trembled—though he was sweating, yet the air was cold.

"Are you alright, Onion?" Isobar asked, putting his wing on the pony's shoulder; he had an uneasy face. "You want me to get you to the clinic or what?"

"N-no, I'm fine—I'm actually excited to hear these ponies sing for the first time!" He wore an uneasy grin.

"OK, then. If you say you're fine—well, I hope you're fine, Onion."

The pegasus turned around toward the still empty stage.

Onion gulped as he wiped the sweat off of his face.

A pony walked out of the curtain, splitting it into two before letting it sway back into a single piece.

"Good evening, dear residents of Fourbeat and beyond!" Rarity announced through the microphone she was levitating with her magic, sweeping a hoof across her view.

The audience roared with deafening cheers and shouts—shrill whistles, even, penetrated the cold air at the mere presence of that green-clothed unicorn splendidly radiating from the stage lights.

"It is lovely of you to be here at this very moment, because today is the first anniversary of Fourbeat being a proper town full of thriving, aspiring ponies!"

"I told you!" Wakes Week whispered to her friends, containing her laughter within the crowd, catching the minds of her friends before they swiftly looked back at Rarity—Dally News placing a sour appearance.

"While Fourbeat was originally built as a city of production—for only in Fourbeat will you find, for example, pottery studded with the diamonds ones find nearby—" At this, she levitated a ceramic jar—a vase—of that was blue and purple, twinkling under the searing lights; and, the crowd, especially the locals, gave a whooping ovation "—well, despite Fourbeat's materialistic beginnings, it has grown nicely into a booming town filled to the brim with ponies eager to do something useful.

"So, I think I have already said too much. No more delays—here are the Pony Tones!"

The audience grew into a hollering mass, forehooves raised in the air, cameras flashing and blinding the rest of the band's members as they entered into view from behind the curtain—especially a nervous, shuddering Fluttershy, teeth clattering. Names were chanted together, most of all "Pony Tones" over and over with different intonations. The first four members waved at the audience, smiling—with Rarity making the widest and brightest grin and the boldest yet prudent hoof wave; Fluttershy, meanwhile, was content with hiding a little behind her long mane and taking a step back but not fully retreating back into the safety of the curtains.

Then, the pegasus managed a smile, a subtle one but still a visible smile.

A tap on Isobar's shoulder. He turned around again. "What is it, Onion?"

"Shouldn't we be writing to the Princess about how we made it here OK?" Onion asked in hushed tone and around curved hoof.

"Don't worry about it!" Isobar answered back. "Nothing bad is going to happen here—trust me. It's not that urgent, anyway—we just write a letter to her when we get back to our inn, alright? No biggie."

"What if the Princess is biting her nails, waiting for—"

"That's almost disrespectful of you to think that way of a Princess!" Isobar lashed at him—still in a whisper. "None of the Princesses are worry-warts—and even Princess Twilight Sparkle is getting over that, but we're not under her orders, are we? We're talking about the calm and collected Princess Luna—she's not going to sit around biting her nails and doing nothing else!"

"OK, OK, I'm sorry about what I said!" Onion replied, sounding irritated. "I'm just—"

"Worried?" Isobar finished. "Don't be! Remember what Princess Luna said? To have fun and to bond with each other in the journey."

Onion nodded, a frown appearing.

"Good. Now, take it easy and enjoy the show!" he said, smiling.

But, it took Onion straining of the ears to hear that. The storming noise around him was only increasing, threatening to drown out any one voice that spoke something normal, something wordy—for all that was left to hear was more chanting, more shouting of the same names, annoying screams and irritating cries for more even though the Pony Tones had not even begun.

Then, all was quiet and silent.

A deep voice, Big McIntosh singing. "Bum, bum, bum-ba-da, ba-da; Bum, bum, bum-ba-da ah!"

And the rest joined in, introducing harmony, repeating it twice.

"Trot outside and you see the sunshine; Something's in the air today!"

The ponies danced to the rhythm from just a simple bobble of the head to full-out breakdancing that did not fit the mood of the event but nopony was protesting against it so whoever was breakdancing aggressively on the ground smiled and continued his hectic form of moving to the beat.

The song continued on, Onion's friends settling for just leaning left and right to the music—they had happy faces, big smiles.

Watts Onion himself stayed relatively still, watching the Pony Tones perform with utmost expression, enjoying themselves. He noticed a bit of large space separating him and the rest of the ponies around him—a bead of sweat down his face.

"What about—the Princess—no! Gotta focus on the present, gotta think about singing and musicing!"

And Onion made an awkward dance—shuffling his hooves and almost tripping down to the floor but he quietly went on.

Everyone's eyes were on the Pony Tones and not truly on anyone else. Caught up in the party, caught up in the energy—it was a fun performance, to say the least, and, for the audience there, it was only starting.

---

But, that, too, must end and so, after almost three hours of singing and down time, the Pony Tones went behind the curtain one last time. The stage lights were still on but several ponies were now in the process of preparing it all for the trip home—back to Ponyville.

Those who did not gallop home the instant the concert ended were greeted with a surprise: the Pony Tones coming out of their stage not to sing but to just walk to those who were there and engaging in easygoing conversation.

Isobar, Wakes Week, and Dally News hurried to the quintet as two were signing papers and notebooks while the rest kept the conversation going. Camera flashes were still there though only emerging seldomly; Rarity, however, took the chances she could get to strike a striking pose for the camera.

After a few more minutes of waiting "in line"—for there wasn't a line but just a semi-circle of fans with posters, signs, costumes, among others—the three made it to the front, the Pony Tones right in front of them and their voices as loud and as close as ever.

"And, you must be...?" Rarity asked the pegasus in that elegant, fancy tone.

"Uh, I-I'm Isobar—from Ambling." His eyes avoided hers.

"And, your friends?"

"I'm Wakes Week!" the Earth pony shouted, raising her hoof. "I'm also from Ambling—all three of us (that's Dally News over there) are from Ambling!"

"Hm; not too far," Rarity commented. "So, how are you? Did you enjoy the night together?"

"Ah, yes!" Wakes Week yelled, jumping up as if to emphasize her point. "It was marvelous, Rarity! We also get to meet you—don't you know that it's a dream of mine, personally, to meet at least one one of the Elements of Harmony in my lifetime?"

"I understand that you must be thrilled," Rarity said, extending a hoof.

Wakes Week placed her own hooves on her own cheek.

She screamed.

The ponies around her covered their ears, including the Pony Tones themselves.

"Wow, that was, uh, quite unexpected," Rarity said after removing her hooves from her ears. "So, what else do you want?

"Oh, I have a lot!" Wakes Week yelled.

Isobar and Dally News rolled their eyes together, both smiling at the excited mare.

---

"Are you sure about this, Watts Onion?" the attendant said as he stood behind the seated pony in question who was furiously writing something on the parchment with a floating quill—his horn was glowing that blue glow. "I don't want to know what will happen when they find out you pretty much deserted them just to write a letter."

"It's not just a letter, dear sir!" Onion said, adopting a haughty tone but not turning away from the writing task. "It's a royal letter to a royal Princess about some royal business that we're going to do in a royal fashion."

"Staying here is not royal, if I may add one to the list," the attendant said, worried.

"I'll be just fine. Just do whatever ponies who take care of establishments like these do—I won't bother you."

And he was still writing, scribbling, on the parchment.

"OK, but watch out for your friends, Onion," the attendant said before he left the open room.

It was a plain bedroom—a huge bed that could accommodate all four of them, some cabinets and shelves to put stuff in, a bathroom with its open door over there (complete with sink and shower), a table and four chairs for eating and drinking, and the wooden desk that Onion was now using.

A crumpled up face—Onion kept writing and writing with that levitating quill.