They won't let him rest. The voice won't let him rest. He can't. There are enemies everywhere. Shadows, forms, reaching through the ice and the wind and the cold, raking talons through his mind....

His eyes snap open again, pupils constricted in terror. Choking, unable to even scream, he scrabbles, flailing, rolling down the small incline into the crater. And even then he doesn't stop, hands and feet clawing, kicking up snow and earth as he churns his way up and out of the crater, breath sobbing, eyes wide and staring.

They're in his head. They're in his head. They're in his HEAD.... Face wet with sweat and tears and spittle, he screams, clawing his way upright--

And then the explosions hit. He's sent rolling and flopping across the ground and even then he cannot go still. The world twists and spins around him in a whirling tempest, distorted, fractured.

Azwel bolts.

Anyone who sees him will notice he's running in a completely different direction, across the convoy's trail and away. He runs blindly, heedlessly, and who knew he could run that fast? Like a terrified deer he bounds into the forest and... vanishes.