She wondered why he was lying.

For that reason she stayed where she was, nestled in the crook of two tree trunks, each gently pressing against her sides, the bark prickling her hide. She did not purposefully seek the rough hands of the trees for any psychobabble bullshit, but rather because of the great vantage point it provided of the two equines, yet keeping her in the shadows of the woods. She was not obscured, just easily overlooked by the peripheral.

His stuttering suggested he was new to lying, or unprepared to do so. Her gaze narrowed, calculating which was the most likely. Not enough information her mind reproached, so her gaze turned to the girl.

What luck for Colt to find two candidates, though the mare seemed less desirable. She was so, peppy that Colt couldn't picture her being of any help in war, much less one capable of being mean to anyone, mutant or otherwise.
I was that way, once Colt reflected, choosing not to count the paint horse out just yet.

At the very least she could be a body on the front lines, nothing more than a barricade of meat to shield the stronger fighters behind her.

Colt shook her head, getting back to the task at hand. She's pretty, Colt mused, wondering if perhaps the stallion was stuttering in attempt to feign shyness to coax the mare's nurturing nature into effect - would he then take advantage of her, perhaps shoving her against one of these very tree trunks and roughly grinding his hips against her tail dock and what lie beneath it?
Even worse, would Colt be trapped in these trees and forced to witness such depravity?
No she swore, casually. She would not be afraid to exposure herself should such occur, because she was not afraid of him.

Stay on task she chided herself, sounding nearly like The Incendiary shoving his nose into her training.
She shook that version of the stallion away, the motion causing her weight to sway. A brittle twig snapped under her hoof. She froze.

Go she urged herself, striding forward so her head poked through the branches. Hastily she wiped the wide-eyed look of someone caught red-handed off her face, opting for a casual smirk instead. It slid into place easily.

"What happened to your old start?" Colt drawled, almost lazily, as her gaze drifted from the paint mare to the stud.
Why are you lying?

Her gaze hung on him, a metal knife slowly dragging down a wall.