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The bubble popped. The three girls dispersed like spores from a pod and descended on a rising coil of roots and thorns. Sloan concentrated on sticking a landing on a narrow sliver of root and managed to succeed with acrobatic aplomb, not even impaling her foot on a thorn or anything. She materialized her gun in her hands and dashed along the trajectory of the root.

Winnipeg had landed on a nearly parallel root. Together they dashed at an almost ninety-degree angle toward the masked head of the archon, blasting and slicing at the infestation that sought to batter them back. A root swiped low at Sloan's legs but she leapt with instinctual reflexes and sharpened perspective. Around her, blood bubbles deflected other attackers, although Sloan had no time to find Delaney among the bramble. Ahead stretched the archon and her salvation.

(Chapter 11)