Cinder dropped the gun and ran. Knowing the frenzied crowd was impenetrable, she barreled toward the nearest exit, the massive doors that led into the gardens. Past the guard, past the queen, past her entourage, glass crunching beneath her stolen boots.

The hollow echo of the stone patio. A puddle splashing onto her legs. The fresh, cool smell of rain that had turned to a drizzle.

The stairway stretched before her. Twelve steps and a Zen garden, a towering wall, a gate, the city- escape.

On the fifth step, she heard the bolts snap. The wires tore loose, like tendon stretched to the max. She felt the loss of power at the base of her calf, sending a blind warning signal up to her brain.

(From Cinder, ch. 36)