Shadow Mountain Just a conspiracy of cartographers, then?

Air. He needed air! Even if it was just for a moment, he felt the world fade around him. His lungs empty of oxygen, his breath caught in his throat and incapable of filling the sacks in his chest. "Sir, I- C-can you hear me? A-are you alright?" the voice was muffled in his ears, and just as suddenly as the new face appeared in front of him, he finally found his breath. With a wheeze he found his lungs filling in a hurry, they hurt... oh how they hurt. 

The boy spoke again, but all Rosencrantz could hear was the loud ringing in his ears, deafening his senses. His head spun, once again he tried to gain his footing on the ground only to stumble over back onto the ground with a thud and skid, paws desperate to find their ground while the confused giant simply flopped around drunkenly in his stupor. His front half would not cooperate with his back, even if he managed to get his chest off the ground, his hind limps would flop back to the ground, dragging the rest of him down with him. 

What did he say? Who is he? What did he want? For a moment he stopped struggling, his ribs rising and falling heavily while his breath struggled to catch up after the fall, and the thrashing just moments ago. With his one good eye, he looked up at the stranger with a confused look, the wounds from his fight with the gargoyle of the ashen woods reopening in the struggles, staining his white fur red once more, painting his face, neck and chest.