[i]Jackson sighed, looking over at the line of bottles on the shelf behind the bar, then back to Riley.[/i] "I think I was thirteen or fourteen at the time, but anyways, it was over Thanksgiving break, and we went hunting on the first day of deer season. It was cold, unnaturally cold, like snow and ice. I was up in the top of a tree securing the tree stand, he was working on the bottom of it. I must've moved the wrong way, and my foot slid out from under me, and went out of the tree backwards. Cut my arm open on a branch coming down, smashed my wrist too, knocked myself out when I hit the ground, but at least I landed in the snow and brush. I came to a few minutes later, and he was standing over me, had my arm wrapped in his jacket, and he picked me up to take me back to the truck. The whole time, he's going "Your mom's gonna kill me... your mom's gonna kill me..." We got to the hospital, and they cleaned up my arm, set my wrist in a cast, and took care of everything. Never once said anything about missing the first day of deer season... We got back home by the end of the day, and he stopped the truck in the driveway, and looked at me. I had just woken up, I slept the whole ride home. He sat there, and he said "Christ, I thought I'd lost you. I really thought I lost you woke up in the snow. Knew someone a long time ago who died falling out of a tree, worked as a logger after he left the Corps." He was so sincere about it." [i]Jackson said, running a hand through his hair.[/i]