Daughter of Stinkbutt

                                                               

	It seemed that her lackluster attitude was the wrong one to have. A pity that no one had the balls to have told her before hand. The shadows and mists around her seemed to come alive as she strutted past, rushing mercilessly and obscuring the devil's broad form, flowing through a gaping maw and flaring nostrils to settle and pool in her gut. They twisted and danced within her chest, and Rhiannon felt choked, gasping, wheezing, trying desperately to find her breath. Breathe! Breathe! Gold and silver eyes watered, lashes blinking rapidly over a panicked gaze. What was happening? What was this witchcraft?! She fought against the beast inside of her, jerking her head upwards, horns slicing through the surrounding mist and smoke but with no avail, hooves scrabbling and stamping at the earth, her gaping mouth still wide open as though to either try and catch her breath, expel whatever darkness had taken root inside of her, or scream. It was the latter that happened. "STOP!" And it did. A peculiar feeling settled upon her spine as her voice was swallowed by the trees, an emptying feeling, dissolving or absorbing? She couldn't tell. Rhiannon had no idea what had happened, but she did know that whatever the mists had done left her feeling exposed, vulnerable, and molested. They left the feeling of wrongness in her chest, like something wasn't quite right. What it was, however, she would unfortunately discover in the future. The brindled devil's breast heaved, sweat coating her dark hide from the unfortunate exhilaration. For a moment she stood still, frozen. If she tried to proceed, would she be attacked again? No. No. She couldn't think like that. Confidence was the key to her nature. To be confident meant to be in control, and Rhiannon was always in control. A warning glare to the mist that remained dancing through the air was all that the she-devil granted it before she gave a mighty snort, turned on her haunches, and headed in the opposite direction at a brisk trot. See if she ever trusted smoke or mist again, crazy fluorescent light shows involved or not.