He figures out both breathing, and that the people speaking the unfamiliar language probably knocked him out of the tree. He has no idea what they want from him but it can't be good, and not being able to move is bringing back memories of being tied up. He "stares" at the magic restraining his limbs and strains to get control of his muscles, fighting a losing battle against panic.

It's not a very sophisticated spell, mostly just a shell of force pinning him in place; it is powerful enough that, while he likely can break it from the inside, it'll take most of his strength. 

The footsteps stop. More voices, as though in discussion. 

"Ab-ras?" one of the men says, a strongly accented rendition of his name. 

If he can break it that will be more than he's been able to do recently, strength or no. He wants to break it, wants to get up and run and be anywhere but here, but he still can't take the step of throwing energy at the barrier.

How do these people know his name? Did they know he was going to be out here? He didn't know he was going to be out here!

Snow crunches. He can't see their faces to tell if they can tell that he recognized his own name. 

Hands grab his shoulder and flip him over, smushing his face into the snow; he can't do anything to resist. The hands grab his wrists and twist them behind his back. Abras feels coarse rope brush his cold-numbed skin. 

Oh gods not this again

The rope digs into his wrists, twisted painfully behind his back, which are tied to his bound ankles and completely numb. He's freezing cold. The bale of hay behind him scratches through his shirt. His head throbs, and he can feel a trickle of blood through his hair. It's hard to breathe through the rag shoved into his mouth and tied in place. 

“No, I don’t think I can kill you,” the creepy flaxen-haired mage in front of him says, voice like honey. “I do believe I will take you with me.”

No no no and all his conscious intentions and instincts are gone except the desire to GET AWAY, he hammers his magic against the barrier like a man trying to break out of his own coffin until it shatters and he can flail his limbs again.

And now he's free, loose magic dancing in sparks across the snow; someone shouts in surprise, whoever's holding him yelps and lets go as he thrashes, but the men are still right there and presumably they're not going to give up so easily. 

Abras is going to try "run like hell toward the Vale" but the odds that he's the fastest one here are pretty slim.

He makes it a surprising distance, the men are pretty startled and don't immediately take chase, but then the mage reacts and knocks him flat on his face with a burst of force. 

Abras yells in shock and fear, and the yell is echoed in Mindspeech, a blast of thought as loud as it is incoherent.

Startled yelp, and the thump of someone falling over.

Does that buy him enough time to get back up and keep running?

It does! Even enough time to get a few trees in between him and the mage, so he's not quite so easy to hit. They're still in pursuit, though, and gaining on him. Another burst of force knocks down a sapling a yard to his left. 

Oh gods oh gods they're going to catch him and he's going to die and oh gods if he dies Yfandes dies too :YFANDES HELP:

She's on the other side of the Vale-shields but he reaches her and he feels her come awake, confusion and disorientation turning to alarm. :Chosen – oh, gods, what–: a bizarre feeling as she digs at his recent memories, and he feels her force herself into focused calm, :Chosen, we're coming, and you're not far, you just need to stay ahead for two minutes so we can catch up. Don't panic: A waft of reassurance makes that instruction somewhat easier to follow. :Keep running. I'm on my way: 

:I can't I'm too slow they're right behind me: And he can't keep up this pace for very long either, if they fire again they're likely to hit him.

:Gods be damned: He gets the quick sense that Yfandes is already in motion. :All right. You need to hold them off, then, just for a minute or two. There's a mage? Well, I've no doubt you're stronger. Focus. Can you feel any nodes nearby - er, anything that felt like the Heartstone did, when you accidentally pulled from it?:

Her mindvoice is a lifeline, letting him concentrate through the panic and reach out with his mage-senses. It takes his focus off the terrain and he trips and goes sprawling again, but he spots a well of power at the same moment.

:That's it!: She's almost fully merged into his mind now, sharing his eyes. :Now, I want you to - reach out, like you did before. But imagine that you're cupping your hands, and just sort of - hmm. Like you're cupping them under just the edge of a waterfall, to siphon off water, not shoving your whole arm in: She's trying to give the instructions both carefully and fast. :Do it. Now. And then throw something at them. Lightning, just raw magic, doesn't matter. Do it now!: 

He does it, because he has to do it, because Yfandes needs him to do it, because he's too afraid of the people behind him to be afraid of anything else. The magic comes out as kinetic energy, an invisible tidal wave that spreads out behind him in an arc, slamming into trees and unseen enemies alike, horrendously inefficient but still powerful.

They’re not quite close enough that it kills them, but they go down and stay down, long enough for a white shape to explode out of the trees, Moondance leaping down from Yfandes’ back and throwing up a glowing shield in front of them, and then Kellan, carrying both Starwind and Savil riding double.

Yfandes reaches him and puts herself between him and the men, and then turns, blue eyes looking right into his. :Chosen, I’m here. I love you. You’re safe now:

Does that mean he can go completely limp with exhaustion and gasp for breath? Because that's what he's doing. It's a good thing he doesn't need to be able to move to say :Thank you--thank you--oh gods . . . : His lungs are burning with exertion and using the Node didn't do his mage-channels any favors either.

Savil reaches him about five seconds later and drops to her knees, pulling Abras into her arms and hugging him tightly, while Starwind races ahead, presumably to take care of his pursuers. 

:Oh gods, ke'chara, I was so scared – are you all right, are you hurt...?:

He clings to her with weak and shaking arms. :I'm--mostly okay--I'll be okay, you got here just in time, thank you.: His mage-channels feel like they're on fire, actually, and so does the approximately all of his body he fell on, but he's alive he's alive he's alive.

She holds him tightly and cries a bit, though not very noticeably from Abras' perspective.