Out in the field, the Horde doesn't bother hiding what it really is. It doesn't have to. When Hordak says jump, the only thing Force Captains ask is how high. Those who would question orders were long since filtered out in recruitment or training; the lucky merely exiled, the rest cast into the Crimson Wastes. Every one of them is a ruthless propagator of Horde domination, no matter the cost others pay for it. Why? Because it benefits them, one way or another. For some, it's power. For most, the Horde is the closest thing to family they have, and they can't just abandon that.

Adora is an exception. Not because she questions (she hasn't, not even once in her whole life), but because she buys into the propaganda hook, line, and sinker. All Horde soldiers from the lowliest grunt upward have their own reasons for fighting, even if it's as simple as wanting to stay alive by joining the winning side, but Adora, she believes. Believes that the Horde is making things better for Etheria. Believes that any sacrifices they make, any hardship they cause, is wholly on the Princess' shoulders, for spreading their lawless cruelty in defiance of Hordak's peace and order.

Turns out, it's hard to maintain that belief in the face of burning homes (homes, not barracks or fortifications) and weeping prisoners. Adora was prepared for the brutal reality of combat, didn't flinch during the engagement itself as she led the charge into Thaymor, but now, in the aftermath--surrounded by celebrating Horde soldiers, half of them chanting her name--she's never felt more alone. More confused. There's a weight that settles in the back of her mind and refuses to leave, the pervasive feeling that this isn't right, somehow, no matter what she's been taught.

Leaving the rest of the squad to their cheering, she stalks the treeline, looking for something, anything, because this is still her mission. Her responsibility. If something's wrong, if she messed up somehow, if this isn't the right place, if there's an ambush waiting to be sprung, it's entirely on her. Unlike the others, she's in full soldier mode, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Wanting to, as if to justify the scenes of destruction everywhere around her.

"This-- this can't be all of them. There have to be reinforcements somewhere. Don't let your guard down." Is anyone even listening to her anymore? She turns, sees a familiar face, and allows herself exactly one relieved-sounding exhale. "Catra. Good. I'm going to check the perimeter again. Come with me." At least she'll have someone watching her back.