You had lived in Texas for a small portion of your life. One of your neighbours, a ranch boy named Luke, had taken a liking to you and had been your best friend. The moment he was notified you had moved back to town, he was giddy as could be.

Luke had scooped you up from your house and brought you to his shed, which had his skimpy old four-wheeler beside it. He was beaming at you.

"Trust me, you ain't gon' fall off this thang."

He assured, his Texan accent full in his gruff voice.

"Don't be chicken."

And before you could even argue, you two were zipping down the dirt road into the forest next to his ranch.