She is in the nebulous, discomforting state between consciousness and unconsciousness. Distantly, Julie feels herself get lifted up, then hit the ground again a moment later, but her body seems boneless and disconnected from her mind. She can tell that she aches, that every muscle is sore and strained. She just can't really feel it.

Her pulse pounds in her ears, an erratic whooshing noise that drowns out everything else. There's a dull burning that's coursing through her veins with it, like the painkiller she had in an IV once after she had her tonsils out. When she tries to roll a little, the sand sticks to her bloody face and neck, catches on her eyelashes and lips.

Over the rush of her own heartbeat in her head, there's a voice. Her name. She struggles to gain some kind of control over her own body, to make it obey, but does little more than sort of flail a little in place.

"Ger... Ger...," she tries to call back weakly, her voice breaking into a gasp for air before she can get out the second syllable both times. Instead, she settles for, "Here."

Here is not far, maybe a hundred yards or so from where he landed. She doesn't seem to have fallen on anything dangerous, no rocks or plants, but the damage the spell did (or possibly just the amount of magic she channeled directly from the Singularity to perform it) is enough to negate this small stroke of luck.