The Search in Winsome Falls

by Comma Typer

On the Way

"You've seen this pony?" Wakey asked, holding up a picture of Onion with his cutie mark printed beside it.

Isobar and Dally were nearby, doing the same thing—asking whoever was there and presenting the same picture to them, doing their task on a simple dirt street with simple cottages on both sides.

Some of the lights inside the houses turned on, the day drawing out to its close end as the sky became darker.

A light green unicorn levitated Wakey's picture as she stood in front of her. Squinted her eyes—checking.

"You've seen him?" Wakey asked, inching closer to the unicorn's face.

"You mean the mad pony from an hour ago?" the unicorn said. "I was at Sugarcube Corner when he ordered a whopping number of food."

Wakey gasped, slapping herself with a hoof on the cheek. "Did you see where he's gone?"

"He said that he was headed for Winsome Falls." She shrugged. "Don't know why, exactly. He doesn't have all the camping gear—just a saddlebag and some of Pinkie's sweets. Do you know why?"

Wakey—with alarmed eyes—beckoned Isobar and Dally to come over with a forceful hoof—not saying a word, though.

Isobar, who was busy talking to a gray mare, ran away from her and to Wakey, causing her to tell him, "Well, that was rude!" before storming off.

Dally had an easier time, though—she was talking to nopony, so she just walked to her friend.

"What's going on?" the green unicorn asked. "Is he trying to escape from you? Is he a missing pony? What is it?"

"He is trying to escape us and is also missing," Isobar said—frightened yet firm.

"Oh." She looked down.

Silence.

"I hope that you three find him OK," she said, making a hopeful smile. "I'll be off to see my lyre fixed."

"Thanks, miss!" Wakey yelled as she shook her hoof—which the unicorn struggled to do without being thrown off of the ground. "We appreciate your help a lot!"

"Don't mention it."

And the three ponies ran off toward the train station not so far off from Ponyville.

Then, an Earth pony—of a light yellow color and red-blue hair—approached the unicorn. "But, I still don't see you play your lyre, Lyra."

"At least I'm having it fixed, Bon Bon!" Lyra retorted.

---

Wakey looked out the train's window.

Above the grass and the trees and the plants and the dirt path—all of which flew by as the train sped through—was the sun finally going down, plunging everything into night. The sky became a dark blue once again, the stars twinkled into view, and the moon—in its full—shone with its gleaming, soft light.

An "Ooh!" was heard.

She looked at who said it.

It was a green changeling smiling at the cosmic display he had just witnessed—his face planted on his window. His eyes glittered under the glaring electric lights on the ceiling, making his smile cute. "It never gets old!" he said.

A tap on her shoulder.

"Wakey?"

"What is it, Dally?" Wakey said, turning around to see her—Dally, seated beside her.

A hesitation—Dally averting her friend's eyes. Then: "It's going to be alright."

A hoof on her shoulder.

A hug.

"We'll find him," Dally said.

Wakey said nothing.

Isobar was sitting at the seats across them, watching the two.

He looked up to the night sky.

---

The casual-clothed, loose tie-wearing unicorn attendant looked at the clock.

It was ticking and tocking.

"It's awfully quiet," he said to himself. "Better than having a crazy musician rant about how he's going to rule all of Equestria. Hmph." His horn glowed and he magically rotated the clock a bit.

He took a few steps back, seeing the clock from farther away.

"That will do."

Loud hoofsteps coming up.

"Is it the musician again?" he muttered before facing the open door. "Hey! Five Lines! If you're coming back here, you have to behave yourself—"

The three ponies then reached the plain bedroom.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the attendant said. "I mistook you three for somepony else!"

"No time to tell you everything!" Isobar said in fast words, gesturing about with his wings. "Did Watts Onion stay here?" He peeked over the attendant's shoulder, seeing the same huge bed, the same cabinets and shelves, the same wooden desk.

"Watts Onion?" the attendant repeated. "I did accommodate him, but I didn't know you were coming with him as well."

"Do you have anything from him?!" Isobar shouted, grabbing the attendant.

"Get a hold on yourself!" the attendant snapped.

Dally pulled him away.

Wakey was wiping her dry eyes, staying silent.

The attendant dusted his shirt and his tie off. "Would you please be so kind as to not do that again?"

"It's an emergency, sir," Dally said, stepping in front of the pegasus. "Onion is going missing."

"Missing?" A pause as he looked around. "But, why would he want to do that? Didn't he just receive some fame and recognition a short while back?"

"Until he heard the news that Flim and Flam are going out of jail in a year's time," Dally clarified. She fixed her glasses with a hoof. "He...didn't take it so well."

"A vengeful pony?" He placed a hoof on his head. "To be honest with you, he was somewhat insensitive to me, but I thought that it was probably the weight of the job all of you had. But, a vengeful pony?"

"Strange," Isobar spoke. "As far as I know, he wasn't scammed by them in his whole life. I don't get it."

"I don't get it, too," the attendant said.

Silence as they looked at each other, asking with their looks but never getting a word.

"We have to go," Wakey said. "We don't have much time to lose—we might still catch him at Pace if he's staying at the house!"

And the three ran off, down the stairs.

---

The forest at night was a different place. Although the trees had not moved, their leaves made a different show of light. Instead of the bright, clear sunlight, there was the dim, dull moonlight filtered and blocked by the leaves. There were no animals scampering about on the ground. Only the hoots of the owl and the chirping of the circkets. Yet, there were some things that were present no matter what—fresh air, fruits from the trees and the bushes, and a cool woodland wind.

The threeponies were galloping on—or, in Isobar's case, flying over—the dirt path, hurrying past the trees.

"Onion!" Wakey shouted, running. "We're coming for you! You don't have to be away from us!"

"He can't hear you!" Dally yelled.

"Maybe he's there!" Wakey shouted back. "Maybe we're finally catching up to him!"

"I hope we are," Isobar said.

And they said nothing else as they rushed through the forest.

---

A bell rang above the door.

"Welcome to the one and only candy shop in Pace!" Boiled Sweets said behind the counter, waving a hoof about. "It's only here you'll find—hey, I recognize you three!"

The three were gasping for air—Dally stretched out a hoof toward the ceiling than rested on the floor. Isobar downed a bottle of water and, with a wing, threw it at the garbage bin near the counter—and it landed there perfectly. Wakey was the only pony who was not tired or exhasuted, sporting a ready look.

"I was thinking you wouldn't be so weak," the candy pony said, walking up to them. "Is this a marathon to visit my place?"

Wakey inhaled lots of breath. "Onion is missing and he's trying to run away from us, trying to escape, because Flim and Flam are going to be released in a year even though we're all sure that they're going to be fine because of the Princess willing to help them out to a life of friendship but Onion didn't care so he's angry at them and is now going to Winsome Falls—I think—because we really don't know!"

And then Wakey exhaled, wiping the sweat off of her face.

Boiled Sweets looked at the three ponies. "It's good that I can understand what I can't understand." His frown deepened. "What do you want me to do?"

"Have you seen him?" Her voice was shaky, unstable.

"I haven't," he said, shrugging. "I apologize, but I haven't seen him."

"Trying to avoid being detected," Isobar uttered, scratching his chin with a hoof, scratching his mane with a wing. "That's worse."

"I could lure him with candy, if he that would work," Boiled Sweets said. "Does he like candy a lot?"

"Not enough to become dumb over it," Dally said, already moving to the doors. Facing her friends, she shook her head and said, "If we wanna find Onion, we have to go now."

---

A gentle close of the door.

Batter Sugar let her wing go of the knob.

The dining room with its familiar long wooden table and the scent of a done dinner lingering in the air—the three friends sat with the pegasus couple.

"You're telling me you haven't seen him at all?" Wakey said—a failing plea, a closed hoof.

Batter Sugar, with solemnity, shook her head.

"We haven't," Cream Glaze said, sliding his chair and standing up. "I know it's sad that your friend is willfully gone. Surely, though, he's coming back, right?"

"All of us have no idea if he is coming back," Isobar said, his voice forlorn and airy—half-open eyes.

"Not even a secret message or a private letter?" At this, Cream Glaze raised his eyebrow.

Dally shook her head. "It wasn't like that. He ran away while we told him the news."

Cream Glaze nodded his head. He stepped forward to his wife and gave her a short hug, a short embrace.

"You know," Batter Sugar spoke up, "it's getting awfully late at night. Almost midnight, really—did you notice?"

She pointed a wing at a wall clock.

Ten minutes to twelve.

"Has it been that long?" Dally blathered.

"You had to rest many times," Wakey said. "I don't blame you."

Isobar kept quiet, watching.

"So, we're more than glad to open our guest room to you again," Batter Sugar said, motioning a hoof toward the ceiling. "You can't go on like that—so drained like that."

"But, what if he—"

"You don't have to worry, Wakes Week," Cream Glaze said. Then, his ears went flat. "Well, if I were being truthful, there is nothing else we can do but accommodate you three."

"What if Onion gets lost there?" Wakey went on—eyes quivering. "What if he doesn't know where he's going? What if he wants to stay in Winsome Falls forever? We'll never see him again! And, what about him? What if he doesn't want to be friends with us? What if Onion wants to run away from it all and be alone for the rest of his life?!"

And, she dropped to the floor.

No tears, no sobs—only a despairing pony, a silent pony.

The couple looked at each other—glances of sympathy, open mouths that spoke nothing.

Dally helped her friend up, pulling her up by the hooves and with her magic—Wakey's forehooves glowing green as she was carried back to her chair with no resistance.

Isobar, too, helped her—keeping her steady and preventing her from falling back to the floor.

The mare herself said nothing—her eyes darted here and there, almost fluttering; moaning something, syllables that did not form a coherent word to anyone else.

Cream Glaze hurried to the fridge, Batter Sugar flew over to the counter and opened a shelf.

Her vision faded, darkening.

Black.

---

A groan.

A whispered "She's awake."

Silence.

Opened her eyes.

No words.

Another groan.

A moan.

"Wha...what happened?"

"Lost consciousness," Dally said—somewhat panicked. "You fainted."

"Fainted?" Wakey blurted out. "How?"

"You just...fainted." Isobar scooched his chair closer to her bed. "They made sure you didn't have to go to the hospital. Got some first aid."

"How..."

The two watched.

"How long...has it been?"

"It's just past midnight," Dally said.

Wakey's eyes opened wide and she sat up on her bed. "Tomorrow?!"

"Wakey," Dally said, placing a hoof on her head. "Wakey, I know you care for Onion as much as we do."

"And, we realized," Isobar continued, "that you care for Onion more than we thought."

"You're saying I'm in love?!" Wakey shouted. "You're talking about whether I love Watts Onion and if he's my coltfriend! What?! He's missing! I can't believe you guys!"

"Yes, you can," Dally answered—strong and stiff.

"That's going to inspire us to find him even more," Isobar said. "But, please, Wakey, don't let your feelings get the better of you."

Wakey breathed, saying nothing.

And the other two said nothing, either—only looks that silently asked her to consider, to stop, to think.

Watchful eyes, wondering eyes.

Wakey sighed.

"You have to sleep now," Isobar said. "If we're gonna find Onion, we'll have to find him at our best."

Dally merely nodded.

Wakey's lips trembled.

Silence.

Dally hugged her.

Wakey did not response—her lips trembled, her hooves stuck in place.

Isobar hovered to her and hugged the two.

Then, an embrace.

Wakey's embrace.

---

Isobar looked at the clock on the wall.

It was a quater past three in the morning.

Outside, the moon was still shining, the stars were still glimmering. It was quiet—only a few ponies were going about at this late hour, only a few lights were still on in the buildings.

Pace was a quiet town.

The pegasus sat at the table, a candle lighting up the space before him.

A blank paper, a quill, and an inkwell.

Isobar sighed.

He looked at the bed.

Wakey and Dally sleeping.

He picked up the quill.

"Onion. Why?"

And, he wrote.

"'Dear Mr. Onion and Mrs. Onion,

"'Your son, Watts Onion, is trying to get away from us. To make this short: We told him the news about Flim and Flam's punishment. He thought it was not punishing enough. Then, he ran away. We followed his path down to Pace and we think he's in Winsome Falls. I don't really know why he's going there. All I can tell you is: We're sorry. You and the rest of your children are his family—and, I don't know why he went so far as to forget even you. I know you're hurting. But, the only thing we can do is to keep looking for him.

"'From his best friend,

"'Isobar.'"

He laid the quill down on the table.

He looked upon the finished scribbles on the paper.

Isobar stood up.

He walked to the window.

Once again, there was that night sky with its moon and its stars. Once again, there were the almost empty streets and the sparsely lighted structures.

Silence.

He glanced back at the paper.

Back out the window.

His eyes misty.

"Never...get it into your head..."

A hoof on the glass.

"Why...did you let it into your head, Onion? There's more to life than just being...famous."

Sliding down the glass pane.

"I don't get it, Onion. Why? Why would you run away from your best friends?"

A tear.

That tear glittered under the moonlight as it ran down his cheek.