She knows nothing about him (though to be fair, she doesn't know much of many). He is dark bay stallion - slightly hidden by shadow - and there is nothing about him that commands a second look. When she passes by him, the notice that was he there flickers across her mind as quickly as walks by the older horse.
Aela is so busy searching for her own infamy that she certainly doesn't consider his.
He calls out to her and she suddenly stops. There often many who pay Aela no mind; growing up in the North, it had offered her some flexibility on reneging on slipping past the borders of Taiga and out to the Common Lands where she was free to do as she liked. (She was free to do as pleased in Taiga and Nerine, too. It was just that she was told to stay. It was just that there had been implication she was not to go outside the restricting borders of the North.) Those who thought because she couldn't speak must mean that was dumb as well as mute were often surprised to find that the filly was adept at wielding her gift - using it as a 'voice' - and Aela found that she rather enjoyed leaving them overwhelmed.
As she got older, there were fewer Northerners who seemed to think that because she couldn't speak that Aela had nothing to say. No, the Taigans (and some Nerinians) learned that the girl with gold striping adorning her knees had a rather loud personality, even if her voice never echoed in their ears. The trepidation she sometimes saw when they came across her again was far better than anything she could have ever said.
The adolescent thinks this interaction will be no different than the others. When he addresses her, she whips her slender head behind her to see the stallion emerge from the shadows. He is darker than she assumed - he could almost pass for night. His horn glints in the sunlight that comes to greet him and there is a glimmer of respect on Aela's face when she sees his wings. (It was unfortunate that she was born without them, she thought. Aela thinks she was destined for the sky as much as she is destined for greatness.)
Her ears flick back but there is no further sign of irritation on her golden face. Your gleaming girl? she thinks. Who is he that he thinks he can address her in such a way? Her growing flaxen tail flicks behind her and Aela takes a step around, turning to face the stranger. She goes to read him as she does so many others - she waits for a wave of some emotion to wash over her, some memory to try and carry her away - and yet nothing comes.
Odd.
Trying to keep her own uncertainty out the image she projects to him, her brow furrows slightly with concentration and the girl frowns. She flashes images (echoes) of himself - dark and stoic, still partially submerged in shadow - to the stallion. The question she thinks might come clearer than her memories: You are real, aren't you?
@[Eight]