He began pushing himself up, wishing to all holy hell that he still had his damn gun. At least then he could wing her and get her down before she--
Got up and went sprinting for a sword. Damn. He kept a hold on his knife anyway, still panting for breath. The sustained pain it was causing him probably meant a broken rib, but he put the pain out of his mind as easily as filing it away. He'd deal with it later.
He began moving sideways, away from Candy and toward where he guessed he'd hit the ground. His gun...was...there! There it was! He hadn't expected it to be anywhere nearby after the violence of that fall, but it looked relatively unharmed. He kicked up pebbles running toward it, reaching out with his free hand to scoop it up.