A LITTLE HORSE

Written by Dave Horwitz

Executive producers: Olivier Dumont, Randi Yaffa, Cort Lane

Story editing by Gillian Berrow

Supervising direction by Will Lau

Directed by Randi Rodrigues

Transcribed by Alan Back (ajback@yahoo.com)

Prologue

(Opening shot: a ground-level close-up of a path leading through Bridlewood during the day. One stubby little rabbit sporting a unicorn horn hops over to another for a bit of conversation, but a sudden clatter of hooves spooks them both into clearing out. The unicorn colt attached to said hooves gallops into view and along the path, nearly blowing an elderly stallion into the grass, and stops near two others; one of these holds a cell phone, and all three stare eagerly down at it. A close-up of the screen presents a faceless rendition of Pipp Petals’ head, surrounded by a circle of slowly rotating rainbow hues—the pony equivalent of “please wait, file loading.”)

(The same graphic is displayed on advertising screens all over Zephyr Heights, and one young pegasus touches down to watch the phone held by another. On the start of the next line, cut to a long shot of the gazebo in the Maretime Bay town square and zoom in slowly. Glory, Peach Fizz, and Seashell have gathered within the structure, each with phone in hoof.)

Seashell: Only one more minute until another live update from Princess Pipp!

Peach: I wonder what she’s going to do! A big announcement? A song? (Twirl in place.) A big announcement about a song? (Squeal; Glory’s phone buzzes and she glances at it.)

Glory: Low battery?! No, no, no, no! Where’s my charger? Where’s my charger?!?

(Cut to the exterior of Mane Melody, zooming in slowly, then cut to the mare of the hour primping a bit at a mirror inside. She flies to the stage, yanks the gold-plated microphone from its matching stand, and throws it aside; a loud crash from o.s. marks its landing, and she pulls out her white/gold lucky one, kisses it, and slots it into place. Her next move is to wheel in a cart holding her laptop, open the lid, and fire it up. The stage backdrop winks to life, actually a projection screen on which the three-piece band Electric Blue—one of the performers at the title festival of Bridlewoodstock—appears. Drummer Arpeggia and bassist Jam Donut are ready with their instruments, while lead singer/guitarist Fretlock is not using his six-string for the occasion.)

Fretlock: You ready for this? Electric Blue and Pipp Petals!

Arpeggia: (enthusiastically) Ow!

Fretlock: Live collab! Together again!

(A keystroke brings the feed up on the laptop, and Pipp wheels away to the stage.)

Pipp: (settling down behind mic) Hey, everypo—

(This is as far as she gets before her voice deteriorates into a raspy coughing fit for some seconds.)

Pipp: (hoarsely) Hey, hey, hey, everyp—

(Here she goes again.)

Pipp: (nearly inaudible) Hey—

(Cut to the three fillies at the gazebo.)

Seashell: Is this some kind of performance art thing? If so, genius! If not, I’m pretty disappointed.

Glory: Yeah. If her new song is just coughing and silence, then I have notes.

(Back inside Mane Melody, Pipp flies off to one side of the stage, drinks a smoothie dry, tosses the cup over one shoulder, and darts back to the microphone.)

Pipp: (whispering hoarsely) Technical difficulties. Gonna reschedule until tonight. Stay tuned, and thanks for watchi—

(The end of this is accompanied by a cut to a crowd watching her onscreen in Zephyr Heights; she falls victim to the cough once more, prompting noises of dismay, and reaches toward the camera. The motion blacks out the display; cut to her closing the laptop. She turns to the backdrop screen just in time to see it go dark as the connection to Electric Blue is broken, then hears the sound of the front doors opening.)

Hitch Trailblazer: (from o.s.) We were watching the stream!

(Cut to him, Sunny Starscout, Izzy Moonbow, and Zipp Storm entering—Zipp by air, Sparky Sparkeroni on his guardian’s back.)

Zipp: (spinning in place) Yeah, I love Electric Blue so much. They have the best musicians ever! (A pointed throat-clearing from Izzy gets her to cork it.)

Izzy: But we were watching for you too. What happened?

(The pop star’s voice now takes on a decidedly congested tone and will remain this way until/unless otherwise noted.)

Pipp: (flying over cart, landing to face them) I’m fine. I’m fine. Really. I think I just ate a weird apple or something. (Cheeks bulge; clap hoof to mouth. Zipp gasps.)

Zipp: Oh, no. (She flies to stare Pipp down point-blank.) You’re— (Little sister lets a cough out.) —sick!

(Big sister whirls back and lands to face the rest of the gang.)

Zipp: Fair warning—she’s about to become very high-maintenance.

Pipp: No! No, I am not. I’m…

(This time, a string of vigorous sneezes dumps her onto her haunches.)

Sunny: (approaching her) It’s okay, Pipp. Let us help you. You need to rest. (Pipp stands.)

Pipp: I promise, I’m fine. I’m probably just allergic to exciting collaborations with amazing bands.

(The last word has barely left her mouth before a humdinger of a sneeze hurls her backward into one of the styling chairs, which spins her around and drops its mane-dryer dome over her head. Sunny trots across and flips it back up as the pink mare catches her breath.)

Pipp: Okay. I guess I’m sick. (Hitch joins them, Sparky riding.) But what about Electric Blue?

Hitch: They’ll have to wait. Now let’s get you better.

(The dragon nods and coos his agreement.)

Pipp: But… (Her perspective, panning slowly across the others and stopping at Hitch’s end.) b-b-b…but…

(Sparky babbles sternly; back to her, words yielding to a single anguished sob.)

Pipp: Okay, fine. (She flies to the stage and grabs her microphone.) But I’m taking this!

(Zipp wings over to throw a cocked-eyebrow smirk.)

Pipp: What? It’s my lucky microphone. I’ll just sing a little teensy tiny bit.

Zipp: You will not! (snatching it away) Two words, Pipp—vocal rest.

(The infirm equine can do no more than moan piteously as the weight of that order settles on her. Snap to black.)

OPENING THEME

Act One

(Cut from the title card directly to the uppermost reaches of the Crystal Brighthouse, tilting down to stop on the upper portion of the shared bedroom. Inside, Pipp is hovering at the desk in her section of the quarters; she has set up her laptop here and is feverishly typing away, thermometer in mouth. At the sound of Zipp’s voice, though, she gasps, slams the lid shut, and tucks herself into bed.)

Zipp: (from around corner) How’s my little patient? (She flies into view and touches down.)

Pipp: (sobbing, as Zipp feels her forehead) Being sick is the worst feeling in the world!

(The thermometer is removed and inspected.)

Pipp: I just want to feel normal!

Zipp: Hey, come on. Tough it out. We all get sick sometimes. It’s a part of life.

Pipp: (sniffling) Yeah, I guess. (Sigh and cough; Zipp puts the instrument aside.)

Zipp: Awww, you poor thing. I’m sorry for the tough love. It’s what works on me, but clearly not on you.

Pipp: Yeah, did you just come here to be mean to me until I feel better?

Zipp: No, not totally. I prepared a backup plan to help you in your recovery.

Pipp: (perking up) A miracle cure?

Zipp: Kinda. (She pops into a hover as Pipp gasps softly.)

Pipp: What is it?

Zipp: (backing out of view around corner) An escape from your nasty cold and entrance into…

(She returns wheeling in a fully loaded bookcase.)

Zipp: …another world! (Cut to Pipp on the end of this.)

Pipp: Is that what I think it is?

Zipp: (pulling it closer) Yep. My favorite books—a.k.a. every volume of the greatest fantasy series of all time. The Chronicles of Chevalia! Including “Expanded Universe Official,” canonical side-adventure novellas, and… (pulling out the thickest book of all, plunking it open on the bed) …the official Chevalopedia! Every term defined, every creature species classified— (returning to bookcase; Pipp hovers out of bed) —and every map you’ll need to find your bearing in this expansive and amazing universe.

Pipp: Whoa. That i—that is a lot. Thank you, Zipp. Um, but how long do you expect me to be sick for?

Zipp: Whether it’s two days or two moons, there’s always time to throw yourself back into Chevalia.

(On this last word, cut to the sick pegasus rising to the top of the case with a book balanced on either front hoof. A third rests on the bed, next to her pillows.)

Pipp: (setting one down, briefly opening/closing the other) I do love reading. But for the record, let’s hope it’s two days. (settling on bed with it) I can’t take two whole moons of this!

Zipp: (hovering to face her) Enjoy the journey. And tell me when you get to the Tree of Fortunica. (to herself, flying to exit) Don’t worry, that’s not a spoiler. (to herself) Oh, no. Saying it’s not a spoiler is sort of a spoiler. (Out and back again.) But not really. (Pause.) Oops! Uh, you’ll see!

(Out again; Pipp heaves a congested sigh and opens the book she holds, but is almost immediately interrupted by Sunny’s arrival.)

Sunny: Hey, hey! (Pipp cries out, reflexively flings it upward, and sneezes.) How’s my friend feeling?

Pipp: Sunny! (Who catches it neatly and passes it back.) I’ve— (Clear throat.) —I’ve been better. Heh. It’s just a quick little cold, though. I’ll be fine in no time. (sniffling, sobbing) I just have so much I want to do! (Sunny sighs quietly.)

Sunny: I know the feeling. But try to relax. Is there anything I can do? Any foods you like when you’re sick, home remedies that help?

Pipp: No, not that I can remember. (She ponders the point.) Hmmm…

(A mental thunderclap forces a sharp gasp from her throat and makes both green eyes pop very wide as the camera zooms in quickly through one pupil. Fade to white, then in to Queen Haven bringing a bowl of soup to a younger Pipp, tucked into bed within her room in Zephyr Heights Palace. Mother spoon-feeds daughter, who swallows gratefully and relaxes with a blissful smile. Dissolve to a close-up of her in the here and now, face composed in that same serene expression, and zoom out to frame Sunny.)

Pipp: Actually, there is something. Whenever I got sick, Mom would make this amazing soup. That stuff was a miracle.

Sunny: Say no more. I’m on it, in it, and around it!

(Accompanied by the bringing out of her phone, a tap at its screen, tossing it upward, spinning in place, and catching it.)

Sunny: (laughing sheepishly) That means I’ll get it. So, what was in this magic soup?

Pipp: Oh! There was…um…uh…I don’t remember. It was just this, um, this soup, you know? (Cut to Sunny, smiling but lost; she continues o.s.) Good soup, the yummiest.

(On the start of the next line, cut back to the bed; Pipp flops onto her back and cuddles a star-shaped pillow.)

Pipp: Like a warm hug for your taste buds? (She sits partway up with a deep breath and sigh.) Wow, I feel better just talking about it. Thank you so much, Sunny.

Sunny: (taking notes) “Warm…hug”…uh-huh… “for your…taste buds.”

Pipp: (flopping on back, squeezing pillow) Mmmmmm!

Sunny: Okay. (stammering, pocketing phone) I’ll get that, then.

(She bugs out; cut to her descending one ramp toward the entrance hall and stopping to address a gathering of critters on the way up.)

Sunny: I may have no idea how to make this soup, but that’s never stopped me from doing something before. (galloping past Hitch/Sparky) Oh, it is on, Hitch!

Hitch: (totally lost) What is?

Sunny: (now o.s., fading out) The soup!

(The Sheriff just throws an indulgent smile after her and heads upward with his ward. Up in the bedroom, Pipp sits on her bed amid a litter of crumpled tissues and opens her book with a weary sigh. The cheeping, clacking arrival of Kenneth and McSnips-a-Lot prevents her from getting even one sentence in, and she barely has time to get out a gasp before Hitch, Sparky, Curdle the turtle, and a squirrel make the scene. The fuzzy rodent is carrying a stack of note cards, and Sparky burbles cheerfully as he jumps off Hitch’s back to hug Pipp.)

Pipp: Oh. Oh. Oh, wow. (waving, stammering) Hi, everycritter. (to Hitch) What’s going on?

Hitch: (setting Curdle on bed) Well, pal, we thought you might be bored in here all by yourself, sooooo… (To Pipp on this last.)

Pipp: I actually haven’t been by myself yet. (Back to Hitch on the next line.)

Hitch: That’s why the critters and I thought we’d cheer you up! (They make noises of assent; cut to her.)

Pipp: Aw, that’s so sweet! But nothing would cheer me up like being outside on this beautiful day. (To him on the following, taking the cards from the squirrel.)

Hitch: Hey, is outside more interesting than some fascinating nature facts? (Cut to her.)

Pipp: (giggling) Um…I guess not.

(A dissolve turns her expression to one of equal parts drowsiness and sheer boredom, while Sparky—who has clung to her shoulder from the moment he hit the bed—listens intently.)

Hitch: (from o.s.) And that’s why they’re called… (Cut to him.) …say it with me…pine cones! (Critter noises.)

Pipp: Oh, wow.

(Comes now a familiar bubbly giggle, swiftly followed by its unicorn user poking her head into the room.)

Izzy: Thanks for stopping by, cuties— (hopping in) —but now it’s time for the holistic healing helping hoof. (dramatically, fading out as if echoing) Izzy…Izzy…Izzy…Izzy…

(Each repetition after the first is addressed to a different portion of the non-pony audience.)

Hitch: Don’t worry, Pipp. (He and they start for the door.) We have a lot more nature facts to share. (Sparky hops on.) We’ll be back.

Izzy: Ohhhh, Pipper. Once I work my magic, you’ll be back to your old, chipper, sparkly, sing-y self in no time.

(Accentuated by a flick at one lock of her own mane.)

Pipp: Uh, okay, Izzy, but is—

Izzy: (hopping out, fading away) My crystals reminded me of the ultimate tea potion for your flu!

(A clatter of pots and pans from somewhere down below nearly drowns out this statement.)

Izzy: (from outside room) Here it is. (She re-enters, floating a teapot and cup.) My unicorn remedy tea. (playful growly tone) Guaranteed to cure what ails your tail, and the rest of you!

(Once the cup is filled, Pipp takes it in hoof and has an experimental sip, smacking her lips to get the full taste.)

Pipp: Wow! I was skeptical, but it’s delicious! Thank you so much! And it’s a magic cure?

(Cut to and from Izzy’s beaming face during this line, after which Pipp drinks a bit more and gasps.)

Pipp: I can feel it working! (A sneeze wrecks her jubilation.) Okay, maybe not. (Izzy leans in to study the cup closely.)

Izzy: Ohhhhh, yeah. Ohhhhh, no. (smiling) I forgot to actually add the magic. Pffft! (Giggle.) Yeah. I just made a tasty tea. (Float the cup back to herself.) But I can fix it! I’ll be right back! Keep resting! No moving.

(Out she goes, towing the pot and cup in her aura and leaving the patient to voice a bleary, disappointed moan.)

Act Two

(Cut to Zipp flying over the side of the ramp and down past Sunny, seated in a chair near the fireplace with books piled on the table before her. She is tapping away at her phone.)

Sunny: “Magic get-well soup.” (An unfriendly bleep.) Nope. “Magic get-well soup, Zephyr Heights”? (Another.) Nothing. Uh…“Princess Pipp’s ‘perfect magic soup recipe for when Pipp is sick’ soup.”

(This search yields exactly the same result as the first two, and she sighs in exasperation and flops backward in her chair, dropping the device.)

Zipp: (now o.s.) Sunny? Something on the stove smells kinda strange.

(The culinary researcher snaps upright with a panicked gasp.)

Sunny: My test soup!

(She bolts toward the voice. In the kitchen, a hovering Zipp has procured a mixing spoon and is peering quizzically at a bubbling pot on the stovetop, which promptly ejects a cloud of sooty black smoke. She backs up just in time to avoid getting a faceful and moves aside as Sunny gallops in with another gasp to switch off the burner.)

Sunny: (taking spoon) I’ll take that.

(Tapping at the contents of the pot, she discovers that they have gone nearly black and solidified as Zipp lands to see for herself.)

Zipp: Yikes. I think I’ll make other lunch plans. (Sunny sets the utensil down.)

Sunny: (laughing) No, this isn’t for us. I’m trying to make your mom’s special soup for Pipp. (pacing) I should just go to Zephyr Heights and ask h—

Zipp: (hovering to cut her off) Ohhhhh, maybe don’t do that?

Sunny: Huh? Why not?

Zipp: Mom only made that soup when we were sick.

Sunny: So…?

Zipp: If she knows one of us is sick— (She lands.) —she’ll freak out and, like, fly here and stuff. Be cool about it?

Sunny: (nodding) Cool? I can be cool. (Big dopey grin.) I can be very cool.

(The white mare is far from convinced, but shifts gears after a sniff at the air.)

Zipp: (turning to point at stove) But maybe you should take care of that first.

(Cut to just inside the befouled vessel, the camera pointing up at the two as they peer in through the rising wisps of dark smoke. As Zipp shakes her head—the silent equivalent of “this is a lost cause”—Sunny cycles a bit through her lungs and instantly claps hoof to mouth in order to hold her gorge down. She succeeds, but voices a loud retch.)

Sunny: (half-choked) No, good call.

(The screen blacks out as she slaps on the lid. Snap immediately to Pipp on her tissue/book-cluttered bed, lying on her belly with her head hanging over the foot end. She has recovered her phone, which is playing a rock melody.)

Pipp: (hoarsely, half-singing)         What’s that sound? It’s the sound of the—

(A vigorous coughing spasm seizes her; she flips onto her back.)

                                        Thundercloud, crash

(Sit up.)

                                        You gotta believe in the—

(More coughing, which brings Zipp on the wing.)

Zipp: Hmmm…

(One or two strong flaps bring her within glaring distance.)

Zipp: Hey! (Pipp cries out and drops the phone, Zipp grabs and silences it.) You’re supposed to be resting! Vocal resting!

Pipp: (on verge of tears) No! Not Bestie! (She rises to a hover.) Give her back!

(The elder sibling simply holds it out of reach with one front hoof and plants the other on the head of the younger, keeping her far enough back so that even her wildest yelling and flailing can do no good.)

Zipp: (flying away with it) No more secret singing, no more Cliptrots, no more live-streams. You can have this back later. Give yourself a break for now. Sheesh.

(Finding herself outfoxed, Pipp utters a groan and plunks to the bed on her belly; a few used tissues are jarred over the side. She groans again, grabs the topmost book from those stacked up within reach, and begins to read.)

(Cut to a very long shot of Zephyr Heights Palace, zooming in slowly, then to a tilt down from the upper reaches of the throne room, or Grand Hall as it was named in “The Manesquerade Ball.” Haven lounges on her seat of power, goofing around with her phone, as Sunny enters with Thunder and Zoom walking a pace or two back. Haven laughs over whatever she sees as the three stop.)

Sunny: Hi, Queen Haven! (bowing, the guards nod curtly and depart) I-I mean, Your Majesty.

(Caught off guard, the regal mare throws her phone to one side; a crash is heard from o.s. in that direction.)

Haven: (laughing) Oh, please, Sunny. Call me “Your Majesty, Queen Haven.” To what do I owe the pleasure? And where are my girls? Are they here?

(The double title is marked by a hover above the dais.)

Sunny: (to herself) Play it cool. (aloud) Well, Zipp has some sleuthing to do, and Pipp is sick.

(Cut to Haven on these last words, which throw her for an even bigger loop.)

Sunny: (catching herself, thinking fast) At skateboarding! She’s so sick at it. “Sick” means good. She’s skating. Heh. (To Haven again on this last, settling back into her seat.)

Haven: This is a satisfying answer. (Sunny sighs, relieved.)

Sunny: I’ll just cut to the chase and tell you that… (To Haven, who cocks an eyebrow; she continues o.s.) …that… (Back to her.) …I’ve entered a cooking competition! (Wink.) Yep, I did, and I need to bring some Zephyr Heights elevated flavors to Maretime Bay. I think it’ll be the height of sophistication. (Laugh.) Get it?

Haven: (flying down to land facing her) Oh, how lovely! And you’re right about that. Our cuisine is second to none. (Close-up of Sunny on the next words.) I’d love to help.

(Cut to Pipp on her bed, sitting up and reading her book. Hitch is in front of her laptop, which sits open on the desk with Kenneth and his bareheaded avian squadmate perched on to the top edge of its lid. During the next line, Hitch closes the rig, the birds hop off and shift to one side, and the squirrel that brought in his notes steals the wireless mouse and dives to the floor. He also moves the laptop to the center of the desk so Sparky can jump on and use it for a stage.)

Pipp: (closing book, setting it down) Okay, Hitch. Whatcha got for me now?

Hitch: (setting Curdle on desk) My incredibly talented critters and I have prepared a play for you.

(As he speaks, the camera cuts from him to the desk and both McSnips-a-Lot and the squirrel join the group. The little crab holds a single miniature drumstick in one pincer and a pair in the other, and Sparky claps twice. Pipp can only offer a perplexed stare as the lights are switched off and Hitch stands up behind the desk to turn on a flashlight and aim it down at the unorthodox repertory company. Curdle now wears an old Anti-Mindreading Hat on his shell, Kenneth has taken center stage with wings raised to hide his face, the other bird has donned sunglasses, and the squirrel sits reading what might be a copy of the script for this production.)

Hitch: (dramatically) Our story starts in a humble wooded thicket, right here in Maretime Bay. (Kenneth strikes a pose.) “Hark! To what do mine eyes see but a spotted owl?”

(He hoots, and Pipp giggles and hunkers down with her star-shaped pillow to get a front-row seat. Next Kenneth balances on Curdle’s head to deliver an impassioned soliloquy in bird-speak, accented by a few grunts from the turtle. Dissolve to Sparky now wearing an ornate eye mask and growling at McSnips-a-Lot, who jumps in to brandish a drumstick at him. A stab under the baby dragon’s arm swiftly fells him, the disguise falling off as he “expires.” Another such transition puts the spotlight back on Kenneth, who speaks a final line while throwing one of the crab’s sticks aside, followed by general jubilation as the second bird removes its shades. The squirrel pulls a party popper to shower the cast with confetti, now balanced on the shell of Curdle who has ditched his Anti-Mindreading Hat.)

Hitch: And there was never a war between the spotted owls and the striped lemurs ever again!

(All the critters bow, and Pipp applauds as the lights come back on and Hitch shuts his off.)

Pipp: That was so cute! (Sniffle.) Uh, one question, though. Did the winged gopher learn to fly because it was inside him all along, or because the Breezie Fairy granted him a wish? I’m sorry, it’s just a little unclear. It feels like a first draft.

(During this line, the camera cycles twice between her and Kenneth, the bird first trading a worried glance with his feathered counterpart and then getting so fed up that he yanks his tin-can hat off, throws it down, and walks off cursing.)

Hitch: He says…you know what? I won’t share that one.

(Cut to Haven leading Sunny on a walk around the exterior of the palace.)

Sunny: So…would you happen to have any special soups that might heal—I mean, wow the judges?

Haven: Oh, do I? I do! There’s cream of marshmallow, egg cloud bisque— (rustling wings) —and pegasus wedding soup, my personal favorite.

Sunny: Huh. (chuckling) Not exactly what I’m looking for, uh, but they all sound…great?

(She angles her face away to hide a grimace at her lack of success so far. Cut to the exterior of the Brighthouse, zooming on the stained-glass window that marks Pipp’s portion of the bedroom. On the next line, cut to the ailing mare lying on her bed, her attempt to get some rest broken off by the arrival of the speaker.)

Izzy: Okay, Pipperoni-and-Cheese! This time I think I’ve got it. (She levitates her teapot into view.) The magic potion tea to cure your bug and bring you back to maximum sparkle.

Pipp: Ooh! (She spins up to a sitting position.) I’ll try it. The last one really was delicious. Notes of cinnamon and ginger and… (Sniff a hoof.) …cotton candy?

(Izzy moves closer with a pleased little gasp, floating both the pot and her cup.)

Izzy: Oh, you noticed! Awww… (She pours it full and deposits it in Pipp’s hooves.) Okay. Here you go. Atoms up!

(The Princess takes a sip, which seems to agree with her; when she speaks, though, her voice sounds like a clogged cross between Izzy’s and her own.)

Pipp: Again, delicious! (realizing what has happened) Wait. Why do I sound like this? I’m you, Izzy! I mean, I’m, like, not you, but, like, I have your voice! Oh, no!

Izzy: What? Let me try.

(She takes the cup back and has a taste, sloshing it from cheek to cheek for good measure before swallowing.)

Izzy: Mmm! Tasty! (puzzled) Huh? That was new. Must’ve been the bumbleroot. (Gasp.) How’s your voice now?

(She gets her answer when Pipp tries to sing a few notes—as congested and cracked as before, but definitely her own again.)

Pipp: Still the same.

Izzy: D’oh, flying rats! But I’m not gonna give up yet. (giving cup to Pipp) Potion tea magic is real. (smugly, walking out with pot floating in tow) I’ll be right back.

(The cup is set on the windowsill.)

Zipp: (entering room) Look who came to see you, Pipp.

(She steps off from the doorway in close-up, making room for the arrival of…)

Pipp: (from o.s.) Misty? (Cut to frame all three.) Haven’t seen you since the Manesquerade Ball.

Misty: I know. I’ve, uh, been busy. But I saw you on the live-stream and I wanted to check up on you.

Pipp: Awww, aren’t you sweet?

Zipp: Yeah, yeah, yeah, very sweet. Okay, sis. It’s time we talk turkey.

Pipp: Oh, I don’t know any talking turkeys. (Gasp.) You should ask Hitch!

Zipp: No! “Talk turkey” is detective-speak for “get down to business.”

(This sequence shows that Misty is still wearing the charm bracelet Izzy gave her during “The Manesquerade Ball.” Pipp cocks her head ever so slightly, betraying her lack of understanding; her sister leans in closer and Misty listens with visible trepidation.)

Zipp: I want to take you through my ongoing case against the nefarious evil pony who wants to steal magic. (Sharp gasp from Misty.)

Pipp: (clapping eagerly) Ooh! Okay. You mean the dirt, the goss, the tea.

Izzy: (from ground floor) NO, IT’S NOT READY YET!

Zipp: The facts!

Pipp: I love it. Let’s get into it.

(“Goss” = gossip. The visiting unicorn chooses this moment to insert herself between the siblings.)

Misty: Or, uh…we could play a game instead.

Zipp: Nah. I like my idea better. So, after hours and hours of digging through everything, including the book Misty helped me find— (Deep gasp and hard swallow from Misty.) —I’ve determined that this evil pony is definitely an alicorn.

(Close-up of the blue face, eyes darting back and forth as her mind starts to overheat.)

Zipp: (from o.s.) And she’s been around since the days of Twilight Sparkle. But maybe— (Back to her.) —even way before that! (Pipp gasps, enthralled.)

Pipp: I love this theory! Keep going!

(But first she has to stop for a violent coughing fit, which gives Misty pause. Cut to a close-up of a bored/worried Sunny walking through Zephyr Heights Palace.)

Haven: (from o.s.) Apple bisque, tomato bisque— (Cut to frame the two moving along a corridor.) —biscuit bisque, but that one’s not very popular.

Sunny: (as both stop) Your Majesty, I’m just gonna say it. What was that soup you would make for Pipp? She made it sound so great, the way she talked it up.

Haven: You mean the special Sick-Day Soup? (suddenly agitated) For days when she was sick? Why? Is she sick? (hovering) Oh, my baby!

Sunny: (thinking fast) No! I am! (Her fake cough swiftly calms Haven down.)

Haven: (landing) Oh! Oh, you poor dear. (recoiling, raising a foreleg to ward Sunny off) But please, for the love of Cloudpuff, don’t pass it on to me. I have places to go and ponies to see. I’m meeting Alphabittle for tea later.

(She goes tranquilly on her way, missing the orange mare’s forced chuckle and disgusted, tongue-lolling eye roll. Cut to an overhead shot of Pipp sitting on her bed and reading, zooming in slowly, then to a profile of her. She is alone for the moment, but Zipp quickly flies in, followed by Misty at a more sedate pace.)

Zipp: Sis! I forgot to share a key detail. (She lands by the bed.) The book says alicorns can harness other types of magic other than their own.

Pipp: (closing book, setting it down) I’m not following this turkey talk. If an alicorn already has unicorn, pegasus, and earth pony magic— (Sniff; wipe nose on foreleg.) —what other kind of magic is there? (Cut to Zipp as she finishes.)

Zipp: Dragon mag—

(Misty curtails this pronouncement by feigning a spate of coughing, from which she emerges with an innocent smile.)

Misty: Oh! (Laugh; clear throat; move closer.) I must be coming down with what you have, Pipp. (Another coughing laugh.) Anyway, uh, I just… (pulling out a sloppily wrapped present) …came here to bring you this get-well gift.

(It bears multiple bows in clashing colors and is wrapped in sheets of newspaper. Cut to a puzzled Pipp as she takes it.)

Misty: (from o.s.) It’s a mane brush— (A smile comes over the pink face.) —’cause a pony can never have too many mane brushes. (Back to her, laughing.) Am I right?

(The recipient draws a long, soft gasp.)

Pipp: How thoughtful! (Sniff.) Thank you so much!

Zipp: Hey, Misty. Tell us that story you shared at the unicorn sleepover again, would you?

Misty: (very jittery) Uh…uh…uh, sure. I, uh, I…I just, I—I just gotta get some water first. (She darts out with a laugh and cough.)

Pipp: What’s stuck in her mane? (Zipp gives an “I don’t know” grunt and shrug.)

Zipp: Remember that one time I got a candy apple stuck in mine?

Pipp: (dryly, setting box aside) No, that was me. You put it there, at the carnival. Took Mom an hour to get it out.

Zipp: (smirking) Oh, yeah! (Laugh.) Classic. (Younger sister is not amused.) I mean, sorry about that.

(Cut to a close-up of Sunny standing in the Grand Hall of Zephyr Heights Palace and coughing to beat the band. Haven is partly in view, the sound of her phone drifting back; zoom out to frame her watching it intently.)

Sunny: So, can I get that recipe or…?

(The thing is pitched away, a crash marking its o.s. landing point, and the Queen rounds on her with an irritated flare of wings.)

Haven: My, but you are a persistent one! (Pause, then a sigh.) Okay, fine! You don’t have to twist my hoof! I admit it! That soup is not homemade! (stomping) It’s from the Souper Ladle food cart!

(Cut to a poleaxed Sunny on the end of this, then to both again, Haven’s vexation giving way to defeat.)

Haven: It’s the Number Twelve. (Sit on floor.) Add carrots. I’ve been ordering it and passing it off as my own for the girls’ whole lives. I’m embarrassed! I’m a good mother, but a terrible chef.

Sunny: Uh, no! I don’t judge you! I’m sure it’s delicious either way.

(Haven responds by sniffling miserably, wiping her nose on a foreleg, and clapping to summon Zoom. The guard mare flies in and pulls into a hover, holding an empty bowl.)

Haven: At least take the official royal pony-ware for authenticity. (Zoom gives it to Sunny and hustles her toward the doors.) I did always serve it in this. Good luck—and feel better, my dear.

(On this last, cut to just outside the doors; Sunny finds herself being half-tossed onto the carpet here and shut out. A long overhead shot reveals that she has wound up standing outside the front entrance to the palace.)

Sunny: Wait! Uh, w-where’s the Souper Ladle food cart?

Act Three

(Close-up of Pipp’s desk, now laden with a great many cosmetics. She pops up into view behind the lot, seizes one bottle, and—after a moment’s careful consideration—sets it atop a larger container with a flat lid. She is alone, but the clatter of hooves precedes the return of Zipp.)

Zipp: Sis, you won’t be better for days if you’re not—

Pipp: (gesturing with bottle) Don’t say “resting”! (setting it down; voice breaking) Please, please don’t say “resting”! flying to hover over bed) I’m so sick of resting! I’ve been resting for hours! I’m done!

(Cut between her and a concerned Zipp as she heaves a fed-up sigh and continues.)

Pipp: I feel crummy, but doing nothing is making it worse!

Zipp: I-I’m sorry! I just…never mind. I’ll go.

Pipp: (landing on bed, kicking a tissue ball away) I’m just so over being treated like a patient. (sitting) It’s not you. I’m sorry.

Zipp: It’s okay. (walking off) I’ll give you your space.

(Pipp utters a stuffed-up moan before the view dissolves to her sitting at the windowsill and reading placidly. Zoom in slowly for a moment before a bubbly voice breaks the quietude.)

Izzy: (entering bedroom) Hey, Pippersaurus!

(The unicorn is wearing a pair of safety goggles and levitating a mug. Pipp shuts her book and puts it aside.)

Pipp: (jumping down to bed) Ugh, Izzy, I know you’re really trying here, but—

Izzy: Just taste it, silly. I promise I got it right this time.

(So the laid-up singer takes hold of the mug and has a deep drink.)

Pipp: I love it! What is it? (Izzy takes a deep breath before speaking.)

Izzy: It’s just chamomile tea. I finally stopped looking for a cure and decided to settle on something to just make you feel nice.

Pipp: Oh, that’s exactly what I needed. Thanks, Izzy. You’re the best. (Pause.) You’re sure this won’t mess with my voice?

Izzy: This one is just one hundred percent chamomile flowers, honey, and water. (tenderly) Oh, and love.

Pipp: Now this is some magic I can get behind.

(Cut to an overhead shot of a mobile food stand somewhere in Zephyr Heights. The large bowl mounted on its roof, and the fact that Sunny is waiting her turn for service, suggest together that this is the Souper Ladle location that Haven mentioned. As the earth pony at the counter takes his bagged order in his teeth and departs, the camera cuts to ground level and the traveling mare steps up, having stowed the bowl Haven gave her. The vendor is a bespectacled blond pegasus stallion wearing a gold crown.)

Sunny: Number Twelve. Add carrots, please.

Vendor: Ooh, so sorry. We just ran out.

Sunny: No! Poor Pipp is never going to get better. (The vendor is instantly galvanized.)

Vendor: This is for the Princess?! Well, why didn’t you say so? (addressing the unseen interior of the stand) I NEED AN EXTRA NUMBER TWELVE, ADD CARROTS, FOR THE PRINCESS!!

(As soon as he has ducked out of sight to one side, an identical stallion pops in from the other. The only difference in their appearances is that this one wears a hat that looks something like one half of a chef’s white toque split from top to bottom. His glasses wobble from side to side as he speaks in a thick French accent.)

Chef: For the Princess?! Coming right up!

(He dives away, grabbing a pot, and the vendor swiftly takes his place.)

Vendor: AND DON’T KEEP ROYALTY WAITING!!

(He tips a wink to Sunny, who throws him a grateful smile. Cut to a long shot of the Brighthouse, tilting down toward ground level in time with the squeaking of wheels, then to Zipp pushing a blank, movable blackboard into place at the foot of Pipp’s bed. Izzy has cleared out, and Misty has returned. Pipp, sitting on the mattress, closes and sets aside the book she has been reading, then shifts position to get a bit more comfortable.)

Zipp: First of all, I want to say I’m sorry for getting on your case all day. I just care about you, okay?

Pipp: I know. I’m sorry for being Little Miss Cranky Hooves. (sobbing) I’m just stir-crazy from being inside today!

Zipp: Then let me knock your stir-crazy socks off.

(A pull at the bottom edge of the board causes it to spin through a vertical half-urn on its mountings, revealing a cork surface littered with photos, sketches, notes and a map. Strings run from one item to another, converging on a picture at the center of it all—a silhouette of a winged unicorn standing with wings fully spread. Pipp gapes; Misty gasps.)

Zipp: Now here’s how all of my theories connect. On alicorns, on dragon magic, on glowing cutie marks…

(The blue mare gets out a half-strangled little squeak and an almighty cringe. A series of cuts/pans/dissolves follows the detective’s presentation of her work, including a playback of Twilight Sparkle’s holographic message on her FlyPad. All the while, Pipp listens with mounting interest and surprise, while Misty looks as if she is desperately fighting the urge to get out of the place as fast as her legs will carry her. One string is traced to the next, and the next after that, until the path stops at the winged unicorn picture. Dissolve to a close-up of a dumbfounded Pipp, jaw hanging full open and supported by her front hooves; after a long moment, she snaps back to herself with a broad smile.)

Pipp: Amazing! I love it. (Zipp beams.) I mean, I don’t love that we have to stop this evil alicorn, but—excellent work. What do you think about it, Misty?

(When she turns her head to the side, the camera pans in that direction to reveal that the pony in question is nowhere to be found.)

Zipp: Oh, no! I hope she’s not getting sick too.

(Cut to a long shot of Opaline’s castle and zoom in slowly.)

Opaline: (voice over, enraged) What do you mean, they know?!?

(Inside, she glares at Misty in the library.)

Opaline: (stomping) Who is “they,” and what is it that they know?

Misty: Zipp! And Pipp! They know everything! Well, not—not everything, but a lot. They know who you are—well, almost. (Opaline scoffs contemptuously.)

Opaline: Almost? They had never heard of moi? (hovering, igniting horn) The great and powerful Opaline?

(Cut briefly to a genuinely unnerved Misty on this last, then back to both; the big boss powers down and puts four back on the floor.)

Opaline: What are they teaching these ponies in history classes? Nonsense? Gibberish? (Pause.) WELL?!?

Misty: (stammering badly) Oh! Uh, I’m sorry. Uh, I—I don’t know. I thought it was one of those questions you’re not supposed to answer?

(Opaline just heaves a sigh from the very bottom of her lungs. Cut to the exterior of the Brighthouse, zooming in slowly on Pipp’s window to the sound of a rattle of toy instruments, then cut to her inside. Sparky and all the critters are wearing sunglasses and performing for her on the bed, conducted by Hitch: drums, guitars, keyboard, vocals from the stallion, even backup percussion courtesy of the squirrel banging on Curdle’s shell with a drumstick. Kenneth is wearing his tin can again. The song ends with Hitch’s falsetto, and Pipp applauds from her seat at the head of the bed and injects a measure of not-entirely-authentic enthusiasm into her voice.)

Pipp: Oh…uh, wow, yay! That was great! (Pause.) Hitch, I really appreciate you trying to keep me entertained all day, but what I could really use is somepony to hang out with. Can we just chill? (Hitch sighs and relaxes.)

Hitch: Boy, wow, thank you. Yes. I gotta admit, we were running outta stuff to show you early.

(Sparky pulls off his shades and gurgles his glum agreement and relief, and Pipp gleefully hugs her star-shaped pillow. Cut to the exterior of the lower portion of the Brighthouse, the sky having advanced to late-afternoon pink, as Sunny gallops up the walk. Inside, Hitch and Pipp have made themselves comfortable on the latter’s bed and are playing a board game while Sparky naps, pacifier in mouth. The culinary sojourner enters, carrying Haven’s bowl in her forelegs and carefully keeping it level as she sets it down on the corner of the mattress and blows out a breath.)

Sunny: Wow. That took all day. Pipp, I got it! I did it! I have your magical soup! ((She slides it across the bedspread.)

Pipp: Sunny, this is so nice! But I should tell you—there’s nothing magical about it.

Sunny: (deflating) There…isn’t?

Pipp: It’s special because of the effort my mom went through to get it, and the stubbornness of her insisting it was homemade. (Sunny gasps, floored.)

Sunny: You knew?

Pipp: But I love it! It always made me feel good when I was sick. And this is the nicest thing! You’re the best! (Sunny grumbles and picks up the bowl.) Hey! I know I said it was the thought that counts, but it’s also really delicious soup. Give it! (putting front hooves together in entreaty) Please? (It is returned to her.) Thank you.

(She wastes no time in slurping some down. Cut to Misty sitting indecisively in a corner of the library within Opaline’s castle as the latter paces.)

Misty: So what do you want me to do? (Cut to Opaline, who wheels to face her.)

Opaline: What do you think? That little detective girl is getting too smart. We must act!

Misty: (from o.s.) You mean me, right?

(Cut to her on the end of this; she stands up.)

Misty: I must act?

Opaline: Yes! We’re going to do whatever it takes to gather all the dragon fire. (menacingly) It’s time. Sinister laugh commence…now!

(Spreading her wings to the fullest extent of every feather, she lets one ring out; it continues through a cut to the exterior of the castle and zoom out as lightning cracks from the perpetual cloud cover.)

(Cut to an overhead shot of Sunny, all her friends except Pipp, and Sparky crashed out near the fireplace in the Brighthouse; the surrounding lights have been dimmed. Sunny and Hitch, both on the ragged edge of exhaustion, have fetched up on a couch with a pacifier-free Sparky; Zipp dozes in a sitting position on the floor, leaning against one end; and Izzy is zonked out and snoring loudly in a chair. Books, pillows, and mugs are scattered about. Zoom in slowly as Hitch nods off, then cut to Izzy and pan to the couch; the uneasy repose ends in a hurry when Pipp’s voice rings out, finally free of all congestion and scratchiness.)

Pipp: (from o.s.) Hey, ponies! (She flies down and lands on the table.) Listen to this!

(Clearing her throat, she launches into the following words with all the exuberance she was unable to muster up in the prologue.)

Pipp: Hey, Pippsqueaks! (flicking mane) It’s your girl, Pipp. Please welcome my guests… (Flare wings.) …Electric Blue!

Hitch: She’s back!

Zipp: (flying across, hovering by Pipp) See? All you needed was a little rest. (Izzy gets up.)

Izzy: A little tea…

Sunny: …some yummy soup…

Hitch: (patting Sparky) …and a good hang-out.

(Zipp flies back and copies the gesture, getting a cheerful coo from the little guy; cut to a slow pan across Pipp.)

Pipp: Yeah! I’m sorry if I was a difficult patient. You all worked so hard to entertain me, keep me preoccupied, and even get my health back. But all I really needed was to know my friends cared about me. (The rest of the gang on this last.)

Izzy: (grumbling playfully) If I knew that’s what you needed, I wouldn’t have tried so hard! (All laugh; Pipp is now sitting on the table.)

Zipp: We’re just glad you’re okay. (with sudden urgency) But you gotta get to Mane Melody for your big live-stream with Electric Blue!

Hitch: Oh, yeah! You’re late! (Pipp stands up.)

Pipp: You know what? I think I’d like to do it here, with you ponies. You’re the reason I feel good enough to stream, after all.

Sunny: I think we can help with that.

(One wink later, Hitch is wheeling in a cart that holds both Sparky and Pipp’s laptop, along with a few beauty products. The dragon flips the lid open to start up the system; next Izzy levitates the microphone stand from Mane Melody onto the table and Pipp swoops in to slot her lucky rig into place. Zipp takes up the remote control and turns on the television set over the fireplace, bringing up a live feed of Electric Blue without their instruments. All three members happily return her wave, and the camera cuts to an overhead shot of the final preparations and slow zoom in as Sunny touches up Pipp’s makeup and Izzy floats a smoothie into position. Cut to the exterior of the Brighthouse under the quiet night sky, zooming out slowly, and fade to black.)