Clownmuffle extended her hands but before anything could be created the sword lashed out and both hands detached. The flying hands seized the horsewoman's helm and the fingers twisted to plug the slats but before they could the axe whipped back and cracked the air and the force propelled the horsewoman faster and she seized Clownmuffle around the torso even as Clownmuffle tried to stream out in the form of doves and together they grappled as the crust around them ended and they plunged into the open air of the National Mall inverted. They hung, suspended, until the horsewoman slammed her head against Clownmuffle's and erased Clownmuffle's head in a spray of gore that carried her top hat away. Out the exposed interior of her neck sprouted a giant carnation to swallow the horsewoman in the petals but successive swipes of the sword hewed it all to pieces while from her hat emerged the real Clownmuffle to pull herself away moments before a lance of solid ice launched from the sky and missed her by millimeters.
"I cannot die," said Clownmuffle, "unless I choose it."
(Chicago, chapter 28)