He hits the ground with a grunt, and his body responds immediately. He rolls onto all fours and his whole body heaves, trying to throw up even though he's got no stomach. He remembers the feeling at least, and it's all he think of to help the sick twist in his stomach.

He's got stars in his eyes now. He got the briefest, tiniest idea of just how small the world is, and he retches again, bending to press his forehead into the grass. His fingers grip into the dirt, and he pulls some it up by the roots, a restless, frantic energy running through him that he doesn't know how to handle.

"Wh-what--?" he says in this tiny voice, his brain reeling too much to come up with a more coherent question then that.