She lingers on the edge of the crowd, like a frayed edge beginning to unravel. She desperately hoped such was not the case, but she could not deny the paranoia clawing up her throat as her eyes spun over each gleaming blade. She felt like Julius Ceaser trapped among...what were these horses? Not her own, not when she had only come her to bear her own weapon upon them, into them.

A sneer curled against her face, the dark lips on her muzzle pressing tight against her teeth before falling flat again. She bit down her revulsion, as she always did - there was bad grass now, but shit on it enough and it would become a meadow worth grazing in.

The tawny frame pressed forward from the back of the crowd, striding with more confidence in each step she took. As always a pebble knocked around between her toes, expertly caged between the rise and fall of her back hoof and her fore. She nursed it like a child might it's thumb, or perhaps more appropriately for her situation, a man does his whiskey. It soothed her, this bullet in hand, as only tools of destruction can placate the mad.
She settled into a firm position, well away from any sides of the unicorns, lest they accidentally brush against her, an unbearable thought. Pride brought and arch to her neck and lifted her head, sights dancing like lit flint from face to face until at last it landed upon the king. A pathetic sight to behold, truly, for even with his naturally given crown she could see he was not born with a head to fit it. She wondered, faintly, if it felt heavy on his 'brow, if it wore him down. You would think being born with the weight you'd be accustomed to it, but his tiredness, and his eagerness to display it before his subjects, told her otherwise.

"Weak," Colt spoke up at last, her word like the deafening ring of a shot fired even when the finger but barely pressed the trigger. It would seem that way anyway, following the sugar-coated sprinkles of praise everyone else had flung about. She was taking a risk in doing this, but she believed in her words, truthful for once, and that was all the bravery she needed. "Your guard is weak, if such a demon managed to crawl in. You won, this time, because she lacked training, but you cannot rely on luck." Colt drew the last word out long and slow, her gaze narrowing as she glanced upon Apollo pointedly. "I have met you and Phaedra, and neither of you bear the look of a warrior. If you as king and queen do not boast the experience wrought in blood, then you need a stronger guard to bear that burden."

She let her voice fall into silence for a time, her gaze glancing about her fellows. She did not expect praise, especially not from a group so quick to drizzle honey, but she hoped they'd have the sense to see beyond her callous tongue. Perhaps she could have phrased herself more eloquently, but the matter was exposed and bared before them - they lacked the defenses to maintain themselves long term. Colt had yet to meet a single soldier since her arrival, though the bear certainly seemed terrifying, despite its miniature size, the the most recent stallion to speak bore a promising title among executioner, neither seemed steadfast in their placement with the herd. Colt was surely still green as far as taking the role herself, but she figured she knew more than most already.

Colt would have to remember to find Confutatis before the day wore itself out.

Despite her words and the edge they held, Colt was perfectly calm. Her body was still, and somewhat stiff as she normally held in, muscles forever clenching and unclenching as if she expected a swift kick to blindside her at any moment, but even so a hip was cocked, a toe turned out.
She was not here to fight, only to tell them they must.

Phaedra spoke up, kinder than those who would come after, not that Colt minded the return of a barbed tongue - better than the feeling of teeth across your hide. Mind games she could handle, although in truth she was probably not as well practiced as she fancied herself, having grown under the shadow of one less inclined to exercise his mind than his dick or his might. Still, it bred in her something capable.

The pegasus gave her some interesting back information on the herd which Colt stored away for further use at a better time. She'd have to learn more too. Did Ricochet know of this? All she remembered him telling of was the Foothills, never the Grey.

"If one asks for aid you must first ask them why." Colt began, her voice strong, but flat, serious, as always. Suspicion was only common sense to her, and their lack of it dumbfounded her. "Aid is necessary in times of lacking or times of trouble, and as such the first thing that ought to come to mind is why they had no aid before yours, or why they lost it. One is not simply thrust into this world without aid - we all begin with a mother at the very least, and if not her someone else, lest we perish on our first night."
Were they really so eager to let anyone into their home? Surely, here I stand after all.

"I don't know what your grey was like before, but the Foothills now need not take every beggar at the door or else we'll invite more wolves to sleep beside us." Colt concluded for a moment, remembering how easily Ciceron let her follow him home, after she'd been less than friendly in the forest no less. She walked a thin line here, that much she knew, but she'd been walking on once as far back as she could remember.

Solace spoke up then, rounding upon her with a defensive quality - Colt didn't know he was one of the warriors she had shamed. Still, seeing a fellow equine so quick to turn on her wounded her, and with that pain annoyance settled like a fever. Idiot she thought with a mild backwards slope to her ears. "That is why I've spoken up rather than offering praise," she responded, tersely as she tried to reign in the irked flies buzzing in her mind. "To change. I would also be happy to serve as a soldier here." It would give her a good opportunity to learn the lay of the land with patrols and better view the strengths and weaknesses of what army they did boast.

Solace continued however, speaking of a warrior's heart, which very nearly made her roll her eyes. A childish way of saying he tries really hard... she thought with mirth. As it was Colt had to turn her head away, shaking her mane as an excuse for the movement and shifting her weight for good measure. "It does matter that he looks the part of a warrior, because he does not, nor does he move as one. Whether or not the king has heart is not in question, but rather, is that enough to keep this herd together, and to keep him alive?" She paused for a moment, staring steadily at solace, the lead of her eyes heavy and dull with the gravity of what she uttered. Eloquence aside, she maintained her honesty in this conversation.

"I think not," she finished, her gaze ripping away from the green stallion to return to Phaedra and Apollo. Archibald interjected his own opinion, colored once more with defensive pride for his king, Colt unknowing he stood as an outcast when so many faces and smells of her herd-mates were yet unfamiliar to her, but it didn't matter. Archibald was just another blind equine turning on her like a dog growling for his master, fancy that he has one...fucking dogs she thought with a sneer, scars left by Guns unseen on the dark of her legs. A pity too, Archibald seemed more than capable of dealing battle, she would have expected him to be smarter about knowing who else was as fit for the job, which Apollo, she knew, was not.

He moved towards her, the dog at his heels locked on her. She shifted her weight away, her left toe pressing possessively against the rock that still rested there.
She hated dogs.

"I mean no disrespect, Apollo. It is obvious that your people love you and that you are willing to bleed for this land, and that such has accomplished your goals, for now. Yet battles are a deadly dance where one that does not know the steps ought not place so much worth in his hooves. It's only a matter of time before one slips."
Hopefully that was a bit softer for them to bear. If not then truly it would be proven that unicorn horns were a leading cause of brain damage, how could they not be? It really did mystify her...