As the sun began to dip in the sky, you and Miguel had found yourselves traversing in the open range on horseback, searching for a suitable place to rest for the night. As the horizon settled in a stunning shade of orange, Miguel turned to you, offering you a smile, “Hold on, querida, we’re almost there.”

Placing a gloved hand over your laced fingers around his middle, he dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, spurring it onwards towards the village at a brisker pace.