Stone Circle one two three four

The boy sniffled, holding in tears as he hurried back to the den, tail tucked so far between his legs it almost looked as though he were lacking one. Around him blossomed a balloon of scent, thick and acrid. The striped friend had refused his attempts to play, and it was only after the creature had showed him its rear end that Cyron had a spark of realization catch in his dull brain, and he fled, but not before the mad not-rabbit had discharged it's oily glands, and Cyron's hindquarters had received a half-dose. He skidded into the den, wailing for @Illecebra and @Mawk and introducing the disgusting scent to the walls, floor and atmosphere of the den in his usual thoughtlessness.