[ When he was a little boy, Chris couldn't imagine a life better than one like this: just him and his horse — currently borrowed from his boyfriend, but Chris as a child couldn't conceptualize an eight-legged inter-dimensional stallion, so whatever — and the wide open sky above them, the freedom inherent in a gallop across the landscape before them, alone against the world together.

As a child, that landscape had been the desert, not a flat Montana plain, but the principle's the same, and he feels the same giddy glee he remembers from his youth as he clings to Sleipnir's mane and lets the stallion have his head as he thunders along.

He slides off Sleipnir's back to land on wobbly legs once they get to that waterfall, his heart still thundering in his chest and his breath coming quick in his lungs, adrenaline coursing through him even though the thrill of the gallop is starting to fade now that they're stationary again. ]

That was incredible, buddy. [ He leans a companionable hand on Sleipnir's shoulder as he regains his balance for a moment, fighting down the urge to giggle for no reason. ] Even if it might have been a little boring for you. I appreciate you looking out for me.

[ Now it's Chris's turn to look out for the horse he joked was his step-son, so he rips up some of that same grass and sets to rubbing those massive legs down, buffing away the sweat and checking for injuries out of habit. ]