Sparked by worrying and curiosity, Sikeax's head turns to stare off into the same direction that Amara's golden eyes had once locked onto, searching for whatever could of been there. A snort flares her nostrils as if to drive a warning into the ground. Hobgoblin's attention in Sameira fades off as the snort hits his ears, stopping to stare at his bonded before changing into a bi-legged dragon-like creature, screeching at the Hellhound in an attempt at furiosity before his new wings give him the gift of flight, pulling himself upwards into the sky and shooting into the direction that the mares had been so caught up in.
The brute force of her worries comes to strike out at her, truth finally spilling from the lips of the chestnut mare. In some sort of hinted betrayal that Amara, her best friend, the one soul that she had come to trust in the years that passed without second thought, could actually lie to her, well, it adds a kind of pain into her chest, maybe even her soul when it reaches deep into some unknown, forgotten place, lacing cold, icy fingers and ripping her loose stitches apart and drawing blood that leaks emotion.
Sikeax's pale eyes were ice cold for mere seconds, wounded and upset but silent and emotionless as not to inflict pain on someone so dear.
And to think there would always be someone you could turn to to trust, to expect the utmost truth from, only to have a lie done before your very own tired, wounded eyes, it made things only more difficult.
But if Amara wished to hold her secrets, then let it be so. Sikeax could give no more complaints. The world knew no kindness nor did it have any to offer. She wouldn't reach into a bag filled with rusty nails thinking there would be nothing but soft, welcoming feathers that would soothe and smooth out all of her pains.
Her ears lean forward to offer themselves to her, silently giving the cue that all of the words spoken in their privacy would be sacred by oath, never to uttered in the future. An affectionate nicker breaks the still as she welcomes the touch in her side, lavishing in the touch.
Confusion settles her in, keeping her ears onto her companion. The distant flutter of wings signals that Hobgoblin has returned, faint squeaking that brings a snort from her nostrils. Whatever meal he'd brought back as alive, soon becoming a play thing between him and Sameira. The animalistic joy that he finds in toying with his meals as it dies brings out a sense of strong discomfort.
When she is pushed away, the final feeling of hurt hits her. She's insulted, upset, finally letting the best of her-
Claws scramble over her hide, digging in and possibly cutting the skin, but nothing gets rid of the fact that Hobgoblin actually hisses towards the Pegasus as she speaks. Wings draw themselves outwards and up, attempting to visibly increase his size. Embarrassment hits Sikeax like a brick wall while his anger is like the weight of the world, driven by the hurt that his mate feels in response to the action.
She would have to learn to cut her emotions off from him or either they would have to learn to work together to co-exist with each other's feelings, getting used to how the other worked and how to not act upon the other's feelings without permission.
"I'm sorry..." A faint whisper casts itself out as an apology for his actions. Red eyes burrow into what Hobgoblin now views as a threat. A growl rises from before Sikeax hits the height of his feelings, choosing to ignore his very presence.
One sigh of two parts embarrassment and hurt feelings gathers up the situation and puts it into control.
"Give it a chance." Hobgoblin spats at the idea. "Gaucho, our lead, he's done nothing but good for the herd and he's the one who did the murders. No one even pays mind to it. If they accepted him, then they'd accept you. I want you to be happy. I want to make sure you're okay. I'll stay with you when you're scared and make sure we can find out what's happening."
Inside, she feels she's fighting a losing battle. She doesn't know what Amara is good at. It doesn't take talent to gain a rank, a task within the family that aids the herd as a whole, only interest. She'd came to the Throat as only a child with a wish to learn and the drive needed, and had gotten past her goals further than she had expected.
"Is there anything that interests you? We'll help you learn what you want to do." There was a slight chance that she was forcing this upon Amara, but the risks that her friend faced without aid, alone in the Wilds with no one but Sameira were far greater than the risks she would take on in the Dragon's Throat.
"Please."
Soon enough, she would need to find the might to pull herself off her knees and end the begging.

@[Amara]