There's a slam of impact and silence, like being to close to a pressure grenade, although he isn't in pain.

When Fives blinks his eyes open, he's on his back on the floor, cold water seeping around him. A small, dark brindled fox is sitting on his chest; it feels like it weighs as much as a small spaceship. It's teeth are digging into Fives' wrist, which is completely numb. He has pins and needles ricocheting down his arm. He still has the piece of glass in his hand; his neck doesn't even sting.

Somewhere nearby, Marten is muttering, "Oh no, oh no, oh no," over and over.