Ron's POV – Ice Forest
The biting chill nipped at his cheeks as Ron trudged through the sparse snow, his makeshift fur coat rustling with every step. The cloak was rough, unevenly stitched, and looked more like rags than proper clothing—but it kept the cold from biting into his bones.
A sudden thunk split the silence—an arrow buried itself into the snow just a few feet from him.
Ron's eyes narrowed.
Hidden attackers…
He turned his head, scanning the shadows between the frosted trees. Nothing.
The next arrow came from his right. He shifted his stance and let it fly past. Another hissed from the left—dodged again.
By now, his instincts were certain.
Three of them. Archers.
Instead of rushing toward their positions, Ron began weaving erratically through the snow, feigning uncertainty. His footwork was deliberate, making it seem like he couldn't pinpoint them.
Then, he let his voice crack just enough to sell the act.
"I–I know you're here! Come out!"
