He leans into her embrace, and Aela continues to groom him. Untangling the small knots in his curly mane, smoothing out the fine hairs that stuck out, and making sure the twigs and brambles were gone. She doesn't doubt that faeries do their best, but the palomino was coming to think that even that wouldn't be good enough for her Fyr.
"Everybody has their definition of terrible," she tells the colt, removing the last burr from his mane. It could be true for other things - perspectives mostly - but Aela has been accused enough times to know that each claim always had a different meaning. Sometimes it had been for the manifestations of her memories (or borrowed ones) and the way that she had pressed them into unwilling minds. Sometimes it had been because of her scheming or her thefts, or simply because Aela used her beauty to an advantage that left somebody else wanting. There was always a reason for it, but sometimes a soul could be shortsighted.
"But you get to decide what you want it to mean for you, Fyr."
If he wanted to be terrifying with his flames, then he should. If he wanted to scare with his shadows, then why not? Aela never saw any point in trying to be something she was not; she was a girl born with the ambitions of a goddess and she will never apologize for it.
She lifts her head, glancing in the direction of the Pampas. The journey back would take a few hours, but if they left now, they could reach the wildflowers before nightfall. Her golden head reaches down to point to the spotted colt where she intends to go and takes a step, glancing back with a soft expression. "How about we try at home?"
They doused your soul in water,
but the flames raged higher.
And they called you devil's daughter,
such a pretty liar.
@Fyr