In the Forests of New France
Forcing yourself to sit in a more upright position, you seize the metal of the trap in your hands. You try first to pry the jaws of the device open, but very quickly realize the futility of your struggle.
Taking a deep breath, your chilled fingers begin to seek out the catch that might just free you. The teeth of the trap are slick now with your blood, and you know with a sickening sureness that this injury will not heal quickly or well. Moving too abruptly, you cause the trap to pull again at your leg, and whimper softly. You are somewhat thankful that below the trap, your leg is mostly numb--but even that thought scares you. The apprehension in your gut almost makes you want to quit, to just lie down and wait for daylight.
But that in and of itself is a risk. You're not sure what you'll do if you do manage to free yourself, as you doubt you can walk on that leg, but at least you would be free.
Finally, you manage a secure grip on the levers that would open the trap. Pressing on them, you feel too much resistance to allow you draw your leg free. True panic begins to set in as you realize that you could well die out here, caught in a trap meant for animals.
You quite simply lack the physical strength required to free yourself from the trap, at least using conventional means. You know you'd probably have to stand on the levers to open it, and that's clearly not an option.
In your panic, you think of your knife. It's far from fully sharpened, as you've rather neglect it of late, but you think that perhaps you can free yourself that way. The thought of cutting into your own flesh frightens you, but you realize it may be your last option, and steel yourself. You could, of course, still call out for help--but if you're completely honest with yourself, you sincerely doubt anyone would hear your cries.
Taking a deep breath, your chilled fingers begin to seek out the catch that might just free you. The teeth of the trap are slick now with your blood, and you know with a sickening sureness that this injury will not heal quickly or well. Moving too abruptly, you cause the trap to pull again at your leg, and whimper softly. You are somewhat thankful that below the trap, your leg is mostly numb--but even that thought scares you. The apprehension in your gut almost makes you want to quit, to just lie down and wait for daylight.
But that in and of itself is a risk. You're not sure what you'll do if you do manage to free yourself, as you doubt you can walk on that leg, but at least you would be free.
Finally, you manage a secure grip on the levers that would open the trap. Pressing on them, you feel too much resistance to allow you draw your leg free. True panic begins to set in as you realize that you could well die out here, caught in a trap meant for animals.
You quite simply lack the physical strength required to free yourself from the trap, at least using conventional means. You know you'd probably have to stand on the levers to open it, and that's clearly not an option.
In your panic, you think of your knife. It's far from fully sharpened, as you've rather neglect it of late, but you think that perhaps you can free yourself that way. The thought of cutting into your own flesh frightens you, but you realize it may be your last option, and steel yourself. You could, of course, still call out for help--but if you're completely honest with yourself, you sincerely doubt anyone would hear your cries.