Cross hissed as the snare tugged on his tail. Each movement making it tighter and more painful by the second. The snare was meant for coyotes yet Cross had been lured in by a piece of food from his hunger.

He struggled for a few more hours, the ground beneath him having marks of his constant friction. Cross could feel himself getting more tired and weaker, but he wouldn't get caught or die. Not like this.

As Cross continued to thrash and bash, he heard footsteps and immediately hissed. His instincts going wild on the dangers around him.