Swiftcurrent Creek All I Can Say Is

The taste was there again, and caused the grey fur of her donkey's cross to lift, clear from the back of her skull to the middle of her back, and down each shoulder. The metallic taste of blood, tinted with the gamey taste of predator was something she had not tasted before. It awakened something primal in her mind which was short-lived. 

The air was knocked out of her when he rammed his crown into her bruised ribs, sending a wave of pain through her shield, and disarming her completely. She fell to the ground and shuddered, curling into the fetal position as she gasped for air that wouldn't come. She could exhale in soft puffs, but it felt as though her windpipe had closed to a tiny straw every time she tried to drag in a breath. She stretched her neck out, mouth gaping open as she lay flat against the ground, incapacitated. It was agonizing to breathe- but even more agonizing to not be able to breathe at all.