[WIP] She was running, running, running—hard and fast, her feet stomping over dead leaves and fallen branches and the cold, biting wind of the night slashing at her cheeks. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute and her breath was leaving her burning lungs in sharp pants but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. They were closing in on her. She could hear their shouts somewhere in the darkness behind her, around her. She couldn’t afford to look back to check where or how far. She needed to keep going, going, going.
This was her worst nightmare come to life. They had appeared out of nowhere. The only small saving grace was that she had changed from her dress and heels by then, thanks to her strict schedule. They had planned to slip out before the end to avoid being subjected to endless questions—questions they couldn’t answer because this was their mission and no one was supposed to know.
They hadn’t wanted to spoil the cheerful mood by announcing that they had to go and wouldn’t be back for a while — if ever.
So much for that. They certainly had snuffed out all the cheer from the joyful occasion when their grotesque emblem had lit up the night sky with its nauseating eerie green glow. Figured shrouded in black like a bloody uniform complete with those ridiculous masks. So brazen now, long gone were the times when they’d moved in the shadows and killed in secret, spiriting away people into nothingness like they never existed.
Panic had turned everything into chaos, as people screamed and scattered and spells burst like ominous fireworks, destroying everything and sparing nothing— and no one. She’d lost track of Harry and Ron when they had to jump apart to avoid a familiar green curse.
Death.
They had gathered to celebrate life, and death had crashed the party in the worst imaginable way.
And now she was wandless, running through the woods in the darkness, blind to where she was going, horrifyingly vulnerable and desperately alone.
No, this was so much worse than her worst nightmare come to life.
Don’t think about it, keep running.
If she stopped, if they caught up to her, she would die. There was no coming back from this.
Her calves burned, sweat and blood dripped down the side of her face and she was sure her left arm was broken. A spell had blindsided her as she had turned to erect a shielding spell over Ginny, the force of it propelling her outside the tent and into a large tree, disarmed and body mangled and battered and mind disoriented. The momentary daze had cleared just in time for her to witness a new arrival of black-hooded figures and — her stomach had dipped with dread at the sight — werewolves.
That had prompted her to start running for her life.
Her left foot hit something and her entire body flew forward, landing on the damp forest floor in a muffled thud, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Pain radiated through her bones, momentarily immobilizing her. She blinked hard and gasped for air.
Get up!
Get up!
GET UP NOW! GET UP! GET UP!
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