Since the birth of the twins, Colt had not a moment alone. She had no time to think of anything but them, their safety, their whereabouts, and as always, what punishments she'd have to be dealing out when one returned not-so-subtly back to her side. The boy especially. He seemed to know every one of her rules by heart, but followed all but one. That being the most important rule— do not wander lest you want a severe beating. She had tried to pound it into him, that he was below her, that he was weaker, and that she had power over him. She wanted him to respect her, not try to tempt the fates and prance off ever chance he got. 

The twins are off again, beyond her field of view in a place she do not care for. She dragged them out of their residence in the forest, deciding perhaps they'd like to see more than just pines and dirt— so she took them past the threshold and to a new, unfamiliar place. Never had she seen it, crimson water spilling over layers of carved stone like a waterfall of pooling blood. She thinks that maybe the gruesome sight will keep the mischievous brats from wandering— how wrong she was. She knew that the runt had stepped away again, that he had fled her sights with foolish arrogance. Somewhere, she hoped he never came back. 

The bigger of the two waltzed her way, and knowing well what she sought, Colt allowed it. She waited until it seemed too long that the girl had been drinking, the telltale signs of her irritation rising. The twitch of her coal black brow, the flattened ears and indigent snort, the annoyed slap of her tail against her thigh— all signs that she wanted her child to pull away. Just before the line was crossed, the black babe dances away to safety. Colt curses under her breath, watching the child with knit brows. 

"Has your brother gone again?" She questions, steel sights searching the golden orbs of her offspring with the intent of detecting her unease during her lies, searching for something to signify she was covering for her bastard twin. The girl was certainly smarter, choosing well to stay beside her dam while her brother made a fool of himself to the world beyond them. She swore that eventually she would wring his neck for being such a fool and going out when she'd only just brushed the surface of her teachings. It was like putting a barely started masterpiece out on display, a messy sketch on a canvas while she stood awkwardly with her dripping brushes and freshly mixed paints. Perhaps instead she could mold this one, shape this child the way she wants. Where her brother was still free spirited and stupid, she could craft Sabre into a well crafted piece of work, fit for the Empire. 
"TALK TALK TALK"