“Hold onto me.” Your father sighed, doing his best to keep the horse at a steady pace. He didn’t want you to fall flat onto the muddy ground below you.

His hand grabbed yours, and you could feel the irritation in his grip. He carefully pulled your arm to make you hold onto him tighter.

“I thought I told you not to drink.” He mumbled, and you almost felt as if he had been talking to himself. It was clear Arthur was a bit ashamed in not having you listen to his words, but he was doing his best.