Sefton had fallen forward, face first, his arms catching most of the impact with the ground. His power managed to redistribute most of the force, so really it just left his forearms smarting something fierce at him, reverberating up to his shoulders, more than receiving any actual damage.

He groaned, halfway supported by his arms, and slowly pulled himself to his knees, his hands, and squinted blearily at the ground. The fact that he wasn’t alone soon registered and he whipped toward his companion, crawling closer (but not too close). “Devon? Hey—Devon!”