Ron knew he wasn't going to make it, the building pressure in his chest told him he was getting tired, to tired for his own good, He took a corner hard, and barely avoided running into a wall, he tried to keep up his pace, tried to focus on his feet, Take a step, take a step, it wasn't working. The cramping muscles in his legs were giving way to a rubber feeling. The ache in his stomach was
pulling and pushing. Breath, he told himself, breath. He heard a deafening roar behind him and willed himself to run faster. What good would he have done if he was caught. He took another corner at a breakneck speed and saw his own brothers and the regiment searching the darkness for him. He was running as hard as he could now. Feeling the creature at his heels. He looked towards his brothers and caught Freds eyes, and held contact, it was only thirty feet between them, but Ron
knew he would never make it, and with all the might left inside him he threw the statue at Fred and smiled weakly as it landed safely in his brother hands, a split second later he was slammed into the wall, a body was pressed up against his, holding up his weak limbs, Then the body stepped away and Ron slid down the wall. Pain engulfed him, someone was screaming his name, crying out in a blind panic. And he could only be glad...because he didn't screw it up.