Chapter Text
There are funny things one recalls when searching the endless threads of memory in the mind. Peculiar details that, if able to view it, most people would consider insignificant. I would usually think the same. Except I knew better. Fragments of information act as cues: kickstarting the best of memories and forming them like dreams before the eyes. Starting with detail, gradually spreading like ink upon yellowing parchment. Similar to the drops of scotch that now littered the floor, as I scribbled out possibly the hundredth draft of a letter. I was used to writing at early hours. For a man of business, and an upper-class gentleman no less, it was imperative to organise my work with my other correspondents. It was a chore. As I copied out my final draft, growing weary from work (and possibly the drink by now), my mind wandered. I started reminiscing about that particular Saturday afternoon. Like most Saturday afternoons, it started with a gentle ride through the country.
***
A brisk breeze brushed the stretch of grass leading to the stables. It was pleasant for a change; a much-anticipated shift into warmer spring weather at last. Most unusually for England, I was greeted with an almost cloudless sky as I trudged through the drying mud, eager to journey out into the vast green, bordered by forests barely anyone dared enter. I didn’t fear the forest. It seemed to me that there was no real reason to. As a boy, I had stumbled amongst its many gnarled roots and leaf laden tracks with little concern, often returning home with scraped knees and elbows. Now, as a man, I happily delved into its viridescent depths, just as I had done years before. The woods had always been my escape. From my ludicrous relatives to my endless paperwork.
Lessons and lectures bored me. The only lessons I looked forward to were my horse riding lessons: at least these promised times out in the open air. During such lessons, Monty had become my closest companion. Where my siblings had failed to gain my interest (or my attention, which was scarcely given to anybody) this gentle natured stallion had succeeded. We shared an incredible bond, so much so that as I trod down to his stable door, I could feel myself being drawn to it, as if being beckoned by the beast itself. I greeted him as always by delicately stroking his nose, only stopping briefly to stare into those intense, beetle-black eyes. He nudged his nose against my palm, a hint for nourishment before setting off. Instinctively, I pulled an apple from my jacket pocket, which vanished within mere seconds. If Monty had any faults, it was his greedy eating habits. Annoying as it usually was, I was glad this once for this fault: I couldn’t wait a moment longer. Securing my foot into one of the stirrup irons, I swung myself onto the saddle, adjusted myself and tugged on the reins. Monty immediately kicked into action. Under the lightly clouded sky I rode to the field’s edge and both Monty and I disappeared amongst the trees.