Prowl was happy.
Of course, why shouldn't he be happy? He was surrounded by thousands of organic plants, by far his favorite of all the organic apparatus he had found during his stay on Earth. But, then again, he also had reason to be unhappy. After all, he was dead.
He wasn't very sure about what had happened to him. At first, he had thought that The Well of All Sparks wasn't ready to accept him yet, back during the last fight he had ever participated in. For a short while, he merely waited, until he saw that Optimus was in trouble. Perhaps The Well knew that he was supposed to do something more? That was what he had initially thought, so he aided Optimus in surviving the fight. But that wasn't enough for them.
After a while, he began to wonder if it was something else. Perhaps he had done something that meant he would not be accepted into The Well? He had followed that train of thought for quite some time now. The sinful deeds he counted, he soon realized, were bountiful. He hadn't gone a single moment in his lifecycle without doing something that he now regretted. He started from the beginning, and then went on from there, eventually ending at the moment he died.
Unfortunately, he had found himself right back where he started; sitting at the crook of a tree's roots, staring off into a plain that later grew into a mountain. Perhaps this was for the best. He wasn't certain of what The Well looked like, but many other Cybertronians speculated that it was a large spiral of sparks within a lot of darkness. Prowl stared at the scene in front of him, quietly. The only sound he could hear was the pitter-pattering of bugs and a few other sounds. It was actually quite peaceful, truly.
He continued to stare out at the landscape for what felt like a minute, but he could tell from the position of the sun that it had been about one Earth hour, perhaps more. Time seemed to speed up for him, while he was here as a… what precisely was he? He hadn't thought about this notion at all up until now, mostly because he was more interested in discovering why he wasn't in The Well of All Sparks.
He had known of a certain thing that humans had called 'ghosts'. The explanation for what ghosts were ranged from the religious to the scientific to the childish, but there was a significant chunk of humans that believed in them. The general consensus for what a ghost is is generally pretty simple, though; a ghost is a restless soul.
He had wondered briefly about what a human soul was, when he was alive, though it was fairly easy to figure out. A soul was a human's equivalent of the Spark. What the soul looked like was a different story altogether; many had assumed it was merely an outline of the person it once was, while others thought that they assumed the shape of a symbolic animal. In the middle of these thoughts, Prowl lifted up his 'hands' to see. Well, whatever he was, he was more an outline of his chassis than anything else. He was also mildly surprised to find that he was still wielding his Samurai Armor.
His thoughts leaned back to his initial questions. Why was he now, for lack of a better word, a ghost? Why had he not been accepted? Unfortunately, Prowl simply wasn't in the mood to think about it. He sighed, and leaned back against the large, thick trunk of the tree. Then he noticed that the scene before him had changed; now it was sunset, and the bugs had stopped their chattering. Most of the birds, save the diurnals, had begun to rest, and everything suddenly became much quieter than it was before. Then Prowl thought up another theory;
Was it because he liked Organics? Was he truly spat out of The Well, simply because he had an interest in organics! Prowl considered this angry thought for a moment, and only grew vengeful. What a stupid reason! Why in the universe would a simple prejudice against organics possibly be reason enough to reject a brave, messianic spark such as him!
He stopped. He was being narcissistic. If he kept this up, he'd never enter The Well. Though now that he was calming down a little, he wondered if he even wanted to go to The Well in the first place. He had never had a very good fondness for dying, anyways. He would much prefer staying as he was, transparent and free to explore and watch the Earth without fear of… well, anything really. He was now free to walk as he saw fit, observe every landscape he could at every point in time to his heart's content. Prowl smiled.
That's when he finally discovered the truth. He hadn't been rejected from The Well at all. He was only here because The Well had somehow known that he would have much preferred staying on Earth, surrounded by his favorite green substance in the universe; plants. However, this was not one of the historical 'a-ha!' moments at all. Once Prowl had realized the truth for himself, he was merely contented. All in all, he approved The Well's choice.
And he was also admittedly proud that he figured it out himself.