Finnick groans at the pain of the impact, but aside from a stick that jammed hard into his palm, he's not actually hurt.

"I'm fine." He staggers to his feet, brushing himself off and assessing the height of the dirt walls around him. The hole is a little taller than him. Finnick is athletic, though, and they're running out of time. He still has the distinct feeling that they're being chased, and the longer he's in a hole obviously meant to slow them, the closer their pursuer is going to get. So he jumps up, one hand gripping at a root on the edge of the hole and the other reaching up for Maedhros, his feet kicking to try to find some kind of hold.