Neverwinter Forest we will run backwards

The world dissolves into fire after a moment. Zephyr is unaware of Kratos's approach, his words; all he registers is the burning in his leg, the heat permeating his skull and radiating from his body. Panic starts to seize him, and he forces himself to his feet abruptly, overwhelmed by the urge to stand and move as if he might flee from the pain. It doesn't last long. He crumples awkwardly, yelping as he goes down and tears his scabbed chest wound. The pain jolts him back to himself, and he goes still for a moment as warm blood trickles through his fur. Sorry, He mumbles. Hurts. It hurts enough to drive him mad a million times over, but he can't find the words to say that right now, so he puts extra force into the word he can manage.