His hands hurt. His head hurt.
Most of the rest of him hurt too, but the hands, those were definitely bleeding. A vertical strip of padding was missing from each hand’s glove. The edges of the hole blackened by the friction. The skin beneath stood raw in some places, blistering in others, and bleeding everywhere else.

Not good, but not insurmountable.
A quick visit to one of the many canvas pouches around his waist yields a small emergency first aid kit. Nothing fancy, but enough to sterilize the wound and wrap things up.

With the pain fading away, he replayed what happened in his head.
He remembered the slip. The following swearing and curses as he fought to control his, suddenly rapid, descent. The light grew dimmer as he fell, now it was just a narrow beam from above, surrounded by darkness.

He stood, pulled his gloves back on over his bandaged hands, and flipped open his map. A red dot blinked slowly, indicating his position.
Not ideal, but he wasn’t planning on going back up anyway.