Luckily neither of the two horses become hostile at Colt's abrupt appearance and interjection into their conversation. Although it would have been idiotic of them, considering the surplus of bodies and greetings in this forest, she would not have been surprised to have met teeth and absent ears.

Her opinion of them improves by the minute.

Cassenchi's towards her seemed to be fading however, as his voice nearly sneered at her in response. He stayed polite, but the intention behind his emphasis on you was made clear to the brindled mare. She simpered, unperturbed by his underlying ire. Most liars grew agitated when they felt over-analyzed, a high risk of their deception being blown.
He needn't worry though, Colt didn't blow anyone.

He continued on then with some new-found energy, such was the endless breath he took to spin his web ever tighter. Throughout it all Colt could only feel the ridiculousness being piled on - and how willing to share all of it so suddenly, when he'd been more private before. It did not allay her interest in him in the least bit.
Of course there was a probability he was being honest, even if in part, but Colt preferred to see the worst in everyone, that way she'd never have crushed expectations when they turned out to be exactly as she imagined. If anything she was setting herself up for success with her cynical nature, allowing others an opportunity to prove themselves better than her judgments on their character. It was a kindness to be sure.

The painted girl to the side of the stallion seemed receptive to the tale however, her tones no less spritely and unbearable as before, overly saturated with happiness and naivety. At one point, at the mention of peace, Colt could no longer bear the excess honey and snorted in disdain. She caught herself as soon as the nasal spray was spreading though and shook her head and swished her tail, playing it off as an irritating fly, of which there was certainly plenty in the season.

The conversation lulled for a moment, then Colt found the attention thrust upon her. She flicked her gaze, colored like flint, over to the gullible girl. "Colt," was all she gave in response, offering no smile or otherwise to suggest the word was a joke. She let her gaze hold Kahlua steady for a few breaths afterwards, then shifted the metal of her eyes upon the stallion once more. "A thief you say?" Colt asked, picking up on the only part of his lie she took any interest in. "Do all thieves admit to their line of work or is that just the honest sort of fellow you are?" She grinned, but there was little comfort in the motion. "It's a unique talent to be sure..." A useful one, if he actually had it. If he did, was he any good at it?

Colt's gaze drifted back to Kahlua, whom she'd mostly given up on by now, but she was trying to be accepting of all equines of all types. Ricochet certainly wouldn't be pleased if all Colt managed to recruit was a giddy filly though.
"What home did you say you'r from again?" Her head turned back upon the brown stag, "I'm of the Foothills, I could certainly use an equine of your sort among the green slopes."
Colt glanced to Kahlua then, trying a kinder smile for her. "You as well, if your allegiance ever changes."

"I don't promise much if I can help it, but there's mares to be found there, maybe even peace. Either way it's certainly a start."
The only romance Colt found in the Foothills was her passion for the good grazing. The only peace to be found would be in the future, when all the herd but its equine nature had been eradicated.