He swore under his breath, feeling the burning pain of the teeth from the bear trap digging into his fingers. He looked at the blade in his hand, weighing up the options to cut it off or not.

Wolfie, his loyal wild wolf stood by his foot, whimpering as he knew something was wrong.

Mike groaned and tried to put his fingers a little, but only resulted in wedging them in further.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed under his breath, raising the blade a swinging it gently back and forth, preparing to amputate his fingers. The swings grew quicker as he swung to cut it off.