Minika panted and groaned. He was... closer to the house, having finally exited the forest, but... He grimaced, cursing his tiny stature. If he was bigger, this wouldn't be as much of a problem. But his small body, at the moment, was a cause for stress, worry, and time-consumption. Thoughts whirred through his head, faster than he could run, biting his lip as he tried to think up a way to speed himself up as fears budded in his bosom.
How long would the little Shiekah girl last with a wound like that, especially with how much she had bled and was still bleeding? What happened if something - like the thieves from earlier or a Pokémon or a monster - attacked her again? She was in too bad of a shape to fend for herself, run, or climb a tree in an effort to escape if something like that were to happen. What if she found the strength to stand and found the corpses of her dead parents, causing her to faint or go into shock?
Minika frantically shook his head, pushing himself even harder to sprint even faster towards the house. He couldn't live with himself if that girl died because he was too slow. He had to try - no. He just had to do. He had to get to the home, and get help. He had to be faster. He had to make it. Somehow, he had to pick up his pace. Somehow, he managed the miracle of speeding himself up more than he already had. He knew that it probably wasn't good for his body. But he didn't care. The little girl was definitely closer to dying from shock, trauma, and blood-loss than he was of dying of exhaustion at the moment.
Life, it seems, had found a way to cure the Minish's boredom and give him a purpose.