Edmund sprinted through the dense bush of the Forbidden Forest while panting.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a frantic drum urging him onward. His clothes were torn, his skin bloodied and bruised, but he gripped the container of nectar tightly in his hand.
The distant screeching wail of the Weeping Spider echoed through the trees with a bone-chilling sound that reverberated through his very core.
Even with the cotton ear muffs stuffed into his ears, the mournful cry seeped through, freezing his muscles in place.
"No, not now," Edmund muttered through gritted teeth, desperately willing his body to move. His legs felt like lead. His muscles locked in place as if they were caught in a vice. "Not now, damn it!"
The first Weeping Spider limped its way toward him, slowed by its injury. But the second spider, unhindered and enraged, was already upon him.
