Colt grinds her teeth together and narrows her brows. She'd been given an opportunity and she'd fucking failed. Like the wimp she is she failed. She can feel her skin burning, itching with the after burn of her battle. She's herded like some deranged animal, an explosion of fire preventing her movement, towards her freedom. A sharp inhale and abrupt stop leaves Colt standing, eyeing the flames with little interest. She merely turns herself and wanders back towards the battlefield, distant expression across her features. Colt accepts whatever punishment may be bestowed upon her, shoulders shrugging in. Colt reveled in the darkness of her mind, laying out her maps and setting her courses into a world of unknown territory and mudbloods alike. She would have to venture into bird brain land if she was ever to get out, and she hoped (more for their safety than her own) that they stayed back. She eyed a small radius around her, drawing an invisible line that no hoof would cross. 

An apology? This idiot who could barely form a proper sentence wanted Colt to apologize? Of all the people to say sorry and regret their actions, Colt was nowhere near them. She never regretted anything, she did not feel sorry for any action (or crime) she'd committed throughout the handful of years she'd been walking this filthy earth. And she would especially not apologize to something as filthy as a pegasus. 

But there she stood, never the less, grinding her teeth together and looking away from the mare she'd attempted to steal from. Colt was a child in a way, throwing a tantrum and moping about with her teeth clenched and ears swept back. She felt like one too, with the way this was all set up. Spitting in this precious white dun's face seemed the best option, to spit and squeal with glee at the surprise in their faces. Steel sights dart to the white snake tangled into the antlers the war painted titan, her plan of spitting into the faces of her captors seeming less fun. 

Turning her gaze back onto the ivory dun, she pulls out her best equipped weapon, a mask she can wear so well. She draws it up, letting guilt flood into her features as she tries to play her part. Colt is a fool, but knows well enough that refusing to apologize to the inferior will get her nowhere. She pulls her most sincere and apologetic face, eyes swinging up to meet the eyes of "Zenobia," as she was called by the bay. "I shouldn't have tried to steal from you, that pelt is yours, not mine. I'm sorry." She turns her head to look at the bone pierced face of the victor, giving a quiet but harsh swallow as she lets more lies flow. "It was wrong of me to try and take from the Throat, and to anger you. I know now that you are a well off warrior, Gaucho and that you care very much about this herd. My apologies." Her flattery slips out easily, her mind screaming, cracking under the pressure of her lies. How disgusting it felt to address the lower species like this, especially a mutt like this one who was born so impure it was revolting for Colt to lay eyes upon. 
"TALK TALK TALK"