The forest greeted us with coolness and the soft rustling of leaves.
Sunbeams broke through the thick canopy of trees, falling on the ground in golden stripes, and the air was filled with the tart aroma of pine needles and damp earth.
The noise that had accompanied us at the reserve gate gradually subsided. Soon, the sounds of voices and neighing horses were left behind, giving way only to the rustling of the wind and the distant singing of birds.
I rode slowly, keeping my horse at a steady pace and trying not to fall too far behind my group.
Most of the riders ahead seemed much more enthusiastic than I was. Their lively voices occasionally drifted through the trees — laughter, jokes, and the lighthearted rivalry typical of nobles, for whom any event turned into a competition between themselves.
