The Long Lost 576th Element

"When in doubt, ask yourself: 'What would Lunchtime Luster do?'"

~Princess Lunchtime Luster, The Odd Wisdom of Lunchtime Luster: Collected Correspondence, Volume 2

Usually, I know what do, but here I'm stumped. I mean, I know that with enough ponies, eventually we could find him, but a lot can happen in "eventually", and I picturing a lot of ugly outcomes I'd rather not think about.

What would Lunchtime do, I ask myself. I chuckle. She'd be herself: bold, self-important, a little bit crazy, and full of heart. Most of those don't apply here. But...

But I can be myself. I feel a warmth on my flanks I haven't felt in some time.

No one runs away for fun. There's always a reason. I flash back.

I can do this.

I close my eyes

I'm not particularly religious, but I believe in magic. And for all that ponies like Twilight have reduced 99% of thaumaturgy to a cold science, there's still the one percent, that little bit of magic that works in mysterious ways. So I offer her an invective. "Princess Twilight Sparkle, princess of friendship, and princess of magic: help me find this child."

A dandelion seed can travel up to 500 miles. So I've read. Living on an asteroid, I haven't exactly gotten the opportunity to test this piece of trivia. But I suspect with ideal conditions--like, say, an artificial low-level jet stream--it could go much farther.

Doodlebop is only *** miles wide. I can do this.

I imagine [colt's name]. I think of my limited interactions with

I picture him, frustrated and unsure of how to deal with this frustration, galloping off. He's, what, 11, 12? He's exhausted after a mile of galloping, and slows to a canter, then a trot. He trots for hours, wandering over the rocky surface, his hooves nicked and sore. He's tired and thirsty.

I am the plant, and he is the seed. I see him bolt from his room, and as I follow him in my mind's eye, he leaves a trail. It snakes and winds erratically into the distance.

I open my eyes, and the trail is still there.

I know where he is.

I touch down.

Ersatz, he didn't come to you, did he?" He flinches, stung by the implication. I unfurl a wing and hug his barrel. "It's not your fault. But please, let me handle this."

I am not going to give some all-applicable wisdom. I am not going to say running away is wrong, because when I was seventeen, I ran away, and I can't say I regret it. But it is wrong at 12.

"I'm 13"

"Thirteen. My point stands. Unless you're being abused or otherwise in an unsafe situation, you should never run away from home. And, uh, I guess if you are in a dangerous situation, you still should go talk to an adult you trust. Not hide in a tunnel and scare your family and community shitless.

[talks about his dad]

Is that going to be me?

No, we c

Whether you decide to stay or go, first you must grow strong.

There are many ways to be strong. Running away is not one of them. Usually. Asking for help is."

"Miss. Doodle, w-will you help me?"

I smile, reaching down to plant a kiss on his forehead. "Yes," I whisper, and in that moment, I feel a wind of understanding wash over me, and I realize it's all going to be alright. Not just for him. For me, too. Somewhere in the peripheral of my awareness, I sense a transformation.

I fire a flare of pure magic. It flies up, up, up, before thwacking against the ever-present membrane separating us from certain death. oops. Fortunately, it absorbs the energy, briefly glowing a bright pink before rippling back into invisibility.

A pegasus looks at my queerly. "What was that for?"

He roles his eyes and lifts a his watch to his face, pressing a button with his snout. "This is [name of pony]. We've found the child, and he's safe. I repeat, *name of child* is safe. Over." Oh right, cellular phones. The magic of technology. Which we help provide. I facehoof.