Circe sat on a patch of soft grass in the open field, quietly watching the sun make its first slow descent beyond the horizon. The waning light bathed the world in a dreamy haze of pink and burnt orange, streaks of color rippling through the clouds like fire melting into the sky.
She had just concluded her riding lessons with Ragnar for the day, and their horses grazed a short distance away, tails swishing lazily as they nuzzled at the grass.
Circe's body ached with exhaustion, the kind that settled deep into her bones. So she hadn't thought twice before lowering herself to the ground.
Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as she tried to catch her breath, feeling the pleasant burn of effort thrumming through her muscles.
Ragnar joined her a moment later, dropping onto the grass beside her. For a while, neither of them spoke. They simply sat there, shoulder to shoulder, both staring ahead at the slow, beautiful bleeding of colors across the sky.
