“Don't do this to yourself, El,” I said.

“I have to, Dup,” Lemon Hearts replied, and I choked on a flash of her feelings. Bitter love responding to my concern for her. Bitter, because on some level, she knew it was as hopeless as I did. “I don't think Moondancer's <i>ever</i> failed a test. S-she might make it.”

Even as she trembled with her hopeless lie, the rifle stayed stock-still in her grip, watching the scene far down the slopes of the Canterhorn through the 'scope. I focused my multifaceted eyes – I didn't want to watch, but if El was, then it was my duty to do so, as a good spotter. As a good comrade. As a good friend.

Beneath us, the classroom's roof had become a casualty of war. Some parts of Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns still stood, but Twilight had chosen <i>this</i> one for these exams, precisely so those of us up here <i>could</i> watch. Textbook psychological warfare, no less than would be expected from Sparkle. One of her sat at the front of the class, whilst adult ponies crammed into the too-small desks of foals scribbled frantically at the papers she'd set. Others of her patrolled between the desks, up the rows and down again, across from side to side, a macabre counter-march.

“C'mon Moondancer,” El whispered, “c'mon, please. Tests are <i>your</i> thing. You. If nopony else, <i>you</i>.”

I rubbed my hoof against her too-tense withers, whilst she trembled and we waited. I don't <i>think</i> I ever let myself believe.

Twilight – a Twilight – stopped behind Moondancer's desk, leaned over. Shouted, or something. It was far to far for the words to carry. Lemon Hearts tensed besides me. Horn aglow, Twilight tried to take the paper, and Moondancer's magic refused to release its grip, whilst Lemon Hearts friend gestured to the position of the sun, to the other, still-scribbling ponies. Then, caught between the two magics, the test tore, scattering into half a hundred fragments. Moondancer paled. The Twilight smirked. “El, <i>no</i>,” I said, as she drew the rifle back into firing position against her shoulder.

“I can save her, Dup,” Lemon Hearts answered, “one round right through Twi's heart, then she'll be dead and Moondancer <i>won't</i> be.”

There were five Twilights <i>in the room</i> with Moondancer, and another five hundred <i>thousand</i> encircling the base of the Canterhorn.

“Windage two-five,” I murmur on pure professionalism. I don't doubt Lemon Hearts can make the impossible shot, put the round right through Twilight's left ventricle. An utterly unimportant Twilight, aide to an overseer of an utterly unimportant test of a group of utterly unimportant ponies Twilight probably didn't even <i>remember</i>. Lemon knew as well as I did the poor state of our supplies, our one lifeline high-altitude air-drops from beyond the range of Sparkle's hornblasts, and half of those landing on the horde instead of us, or smashing to scatter down the Canterhorn's flanks. “You know what Sparkle will do, once they know someone up here cares enough about Moondancer to-”

“Do you think we'll get out of this, Dup?” El asked.

“Sure,” I replied, the smooth, practised lies of a changeling. “Someling will find the original, stick a knife between her ribs, and this lot will just <i>poof</i>,” I pause, “or Celestia will rise and burn the mirror pool from the face of Equestria, or Luna will drop the moon on it, or-”

Moondancer sprawled back on the floor, glasses smashed to pieces, Twilight rearing over her.

Lemon Hearts's rifle coughed.

Blood splashed the floor.