Marx dismounted from Apollo with practiced grace, the stallion's glossy coat shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. Instead of tethering the loyal horse to the sturdy tree nearby, he patted Apollo's neck and said, "Go wander around. You must have missed the meadows as you were locked up in the stables in Uropa."
The horse snorted gently before turning around and wandering off. Marx trusted him to return when it was time.
He dropped onto the soft grass, hands folded behind his head, and gazed westward. The sun, dipping lower on the horizon, painted the sky with hues of gold and amber. Memories of sunsets shared with Amaya surfaced unbidden, their warmth now tinged with a quiet ache. He had watched that romantic scene together with Amaya a few times in the past.
