Fart Attack!

Suddenly, a blast of gas coming out of her ass erupted from beneath Sly Sally's cloak—a thick, green cloud that smelled like rotten eggs and sulfur. It hit Sheriff Texas full in the face, stinging her eyes and clawing at her throat. She staggered back, coughing violently, while the panda's mocking laughter echoed through the suddenly tense street. "Hope you like that, Sheriff! You'll get more of that once I get settled in!" Sally yelled over her shoulder as she darted down a narrow alley, her green fur blending into the shadows.

By the time Texas cleared her vision, wiping tears with her sleeve, the alley was empty. Only the lingering stench remained, mixing with the dry dust of Gold Springs. Her jaw tightened as she scanned the rooftops and doorways—nothing moved but a stray tumbleweed. *This isn't over,* she thought, her hand trembling not from fear but fury. That gas was no prank; it felt like poison, deliberate and cruel.