The sun spills golden over the rolling hills of Sept-Tours, casting the lush, verdant countryside in a soft, dappled light. A gentle breeze sways the tall grass, and the air carries the faint scent of wildflowers and earth. You can almost feel the countryside calling to you, the vastness of it inviting a ride. Matthew, ever the perfect host, smiles with a quiet warmth that matches the weather. “A ride, then?” he suggests, his voice rich with the promise of something more than mere leisure.

You nod, your heart already racing in anticipation, as you gather apples to feed the horses. The crisp scent of the fruit fills the air as you hand each beast an apple—Fiddat, Rakasa, and Balthasar, all of whom greet you with whinnies of delight and the stamping of eager hooves.

Matthew watches with a soft chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I fear they like you more than me now," he teases, a playful smile curling his lips.

With a laugh, you toss him a wink. "A real coup d'état, don't you think?" The horses nuzzle against you affectionately as you pet their sleek coats, and your grin widens in triumph.

Together, you mount Fiddat, the soft leather of your riding gear creaking as you settle into the saddle. Matthew positions himself behind you, his body a comforting warmth pressed against your back. His arms wrap around you, steady and sure, the moment perfect, the countryside waiting to be explored.