Colt was recharging.

The necessity of her current situation to live peacefully alongside the other species had proved draining. The smiles had begun to tire the muscles in her jaw and the petty laughed had rasped her throat. Most of all though her head swam with all their pungent odors, finding particular offense in unicorn dung.
The cold here drove all of that away.

She stood, bowed against the winds that harried the land here, thoughtlessly pulling at the tough weeds that strove to overcome the harsh terrain. Hopefully they might give her more strength than the saturated grass growing plump and complacent in the Foothills.
The tension spun off her in noticeable waves as she relaxed with every passing mouthful. Here, she need not be anything other then herself. Here, there were no unicorns, no pegasus, no Ricochet. Here, there was only shit foot and ice. She liked it.

It came as a cruel surprise then when a voice interrupted her private world, as if reality were rap, rap rapping on the door of her foolish fantasies. Wake up Colt, you can never just be who you are. The world is always watching, even where the eyes have frozen over.
She may as well forget the word relax even existed.

Her head shot up, betraying the surprise fluttering through her breast, but at least she stood her ground instead of prancing to the side like a frail fawn. Still, she berated herself as the last mass of weedy grass slipped down her gullet. A dark limb flashed obviously over the paleness of this place, her toe searching for, and failing to find, a rock to keep hold of. Like a pacifier she found comfort in brushing her trigger finger over the smooth, powerful bit of metal jutting out, the damn gun wasn't loaded so it felt hollow. Lucky for him, she had a habit of finding happiness in the paranoia-driven leveling of her gun.

Her steel gaze shifted to the owner of the words, too near for comfort without her having known of his approach (damn this constant wind) so she leveled him with the tightened glint. All that came of the stare however was a dip of her ears, gently kissing her neck, before they gradually lifted back upright. Oh she realized, once she overcame her initial alarm and annoyance, an equine.
And all alone with her, at last, no one to be mindful of.

The world is watching.

"Yet you purposefully chose not to be," she noted with an emotionless voice, analyzing the stallion so she might chose her actions appropriately. She wanted a certain response and she would play the game to get it. "Either you're glad to have been incorrect, a worrisome form of enjoyment, or you're making a subtle hint to rouse my motionless state into something more, mobile."

She thought to proffer him a smile to lighten her words, but decided not to. She needed to save all of those for the mutants at home.