A clean thrust at the gap above the clavicle plate, then a twist. The gorilla's arm dipped. She took its balance with a sweep of her heel. It fell the way trees fall when a notch has already been made in the right place.
The biggest of them lumbered into the middle and slapped both hands down. Dust jumped in a ring.
The floor didn't fail. It wasn't trying to. Shock meant to rattle lungs and shake knees. Ethan absorbed it with bent joints, giving the force a place to go that wasn't his head.
Everly swore softly for the pleasure of it, then snapped her chin at the big one.
"That one's mine," she said.
"Yours with help," Ethan said. "Not a solo."
"Fine," she said, but it came with a grin, and she moved like she meant it.
He layered three thin illusions along the big one's left to make that side feel narrow and clumsy.
