Prologue
As the blue light faded, and Sam gradually regained use of his senses, he discovered he was in the woods - the deep woods. Looking around, he figured it must have been winter, as there were no leaves on the trees, except for the tall thin pine trees that were scattered in among the deciduous trees throughout the forest.
Sam could feel the cold, moist air on his face as he looked around him. When he exhaled, a cloud of fog formed in front of him. He looked down to see he was wearing hunter's camouflage, and he was holding a rifle in his lap. It was only then that he realized he was about twenty feet in the air, sitting in a tree stand. Vertigo instantly took over, and he was overwhelmed with dizziness. Why wouldn't his Swiss-cheesed memory let him forget he was afraid of heights?
"Bubba? You okay?" Sam looked about ten feet to his left and saw a young man, maybe in his late teens, wearing the same kind of hunter's camouflage, also sitting in a tree stand. "You don't look so good."
"Well, I, uh, I don't feel so good, either," stammered Sam.
"What's the matter?" The other man asked the question as he climbed down from his tree stand.
"Uh, I don't really like heights," Sam said as a lump started to form in his throat.
"Well, they've never bothered you before. Come on down, and lemme have a look atcha."
Sam put his rifle down, and made his way over to the ladder. He had only gotten down the first few steps, when his foot slipped on the moist metal and he came crashing down onto the soft, wet ground.
"Ohhh, boy," Sam groaned.
