He's right in regards that Aela had singled him out because he was the outlier.
Her gift is one that gets better with time - with more practice - but keeping control over something as volatile as emotions is not an easy feat. The more defined the emotion, the sharper the memory, and the clearer it becomes: this is her voice and her weapon and Aela intends to keep them both honed to a fine point.
If she had attempted this with the older roan mare that she walked past, Aela doesn't doubt the old creature would have retreated. The young are too easy, their minds too open. Aela takes pleasure in many things but she doesn't find joy in the conquests that come easily. She had chosen this buckskin because he had been away from the other young stallions and he had chosen to remain aloof where he might have otherwise blended in the nearby band that roamed the Common Lands. That makes him worth noticing because Aela knows that those who keep themselves apart usually have a reason for it and the reason is usually worth finding out.
She had thought to tempt him with the copse of trees and once there, well, she assumed she could practice some of the darker memories she had encountered. His mind seemed strong and his arrogance seemed to lend him a confident air that she found herself wanting to break. The stallion wants nothing of it, though, and decides for them both that the wide-open Meadow should suit his needs well enough.
The pegasus unravels something - Magic, she assumes - that she has been waiting (and wanting) since she had approached him. It's like something in him loosens and Aela doesn't have time to react; it invades her. She inhales sharply - the last action that is genuine - as something intertwines and weaves and tangles within her. It doesn't happen without protest. It doesn't happen without Aela struggling against the confines of his power but she reminds herself again (her mind is still her own, she discovers, even if her body is not) of fixed things: Nerinian granite, the steady flame of Straia's once-burning tree, small pebbles that crush beneath her pale hooves.
Aela finally finds the strength to look away from those ochre-colored eyes, wondering if they might be the source behind his ability. When she lifts them - (she doesn't have the ability to change her skin so that it might become something fiery and molten) - she is the very image of temerity. It's burning (raging) beneath her skin - an electric spark waiting to ignite, daring him to touch her - and glaring brilliant blue at the pegasus.
@[Narcisus]