"Accio gun!" she yelled, waving her wand and bumbling the words out, tongue feeling thick and sluggish in her mouth and she suddenly had the irrational desire to cut it out and fear swamped her, and she threw up again as a rifle came flying at her, away from its owner, slamming into her shoulder and falling to the ground with a clatter. She was losing it, she realised. Losing it. Couldn't focus to cast spells properly. Couldn't think. Was probably dying. God. Merlin. The soldier she'd ripped the gun away from screamed something in Russian and stumbled back, pulling a pistol and shooting at her and she flung herself flat and a searing pain burnt over the top of her scalp as she ducked, and she nearly wet herself with terror. If she'd been just a little slower, or the soldier had been less discombobulated by the sudden whizzing away of his rifle, she would be dead.