She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the tumbling and tossing. She sent her thoughts into the earth below her. Gold, silver—she’d settle for anything that might disrupt her kidnappers. She felt nothing. Riches under the earth—zero.
She was about to despair when she felt a huge cold spot pass beneath her. She locked onto it with all her concentration, dropping a mental anchor. Suddenly the ground rumbled. The swirl of plants released her and she was thrown upward like a catapult projectile. Momentarily weightless, she opened her eyes. She twisted her body in midair. The ground was about twenty feet below her. Then she was falling.
Her combat training kicked in. She’d practiced dropping from giant eagles before. She tucked into a roll, turned the impact into a somersault, and came up standing.
She unslung her bedroll and drew her sword. A few yards to her left, an outcropping of rock the size of a garage jutted from the sea of grass. Hazel realized it was her anchor. She’d caused the rock to appear.

The Son of Neptune, Chapter XIX