Olivia gets her feet under herself and -- wincing a bit -- clambers to standing. Her first couple of steps are a little unsteady; gradually, though, she gains more traction as she approaches the tree.

As she breathes out, quietly letting go of the mental lever holding the gate open, the sickly-looking glimmer gives one last halfhearted jump. Then it's gone.

"Mike," she repeats, softer. "Are you okay?"

(...Aside from the bullet holes and the knee to the crotch, anyway.)