The sun beat down mercilessly on his face, the wind whipping around and making his hair flutter as his horse carried him swiftly across the field, a laugh escaping his lips as he took the lead, watching you fall behind in your little race.

First Friday of the month, when you normally went riding together with your fathers, a small tradition you had acquired since you were little, when you were too small to ride a horse alone and had to go with your father, making faces and sticking your tongue out at a little Allister, who could already ride his own horse, showing it off. Now you both had your own horses, and you spent those afternoons racing each other and bothering each other, as always.

When Allister arrived first at that small kiosk, which was the goal, he turned to look at you with a mocking and winning smile. "I beat you, just don't go crying about it!" He exclaimed as you approached, stopping your mare next to him with an annoyed and irritated expression.