Hidden Terror stared blankly at the muddy floor. Her 'father', Iron Hoof, left to gather some fruit for dinner. He specifically told her to stay put. And she intended to. She didn't feel like moving anyways. But parts of her that felt like they were deep inside kept prodding. One was gentle, asking her to find something fun to do, another aggressive, commanding her to run rampant through the swamp. She was afraid of that one, and tried only to pay attention to the prior presence. After a few minutes, they began to have voices. At first, she jumped with a gasp at hearing them. She spun around, but saw noone. The voice was sweet and playful, like any normal foal her age. Yes, it was true, Hidden Terror didn't believe she was normal. Even her 'father' thought something was wrong. All she did was stare blankly into space, but every now and then a bout of emotional action would erupt. And it would vary, from times of energetic playfulness to malicious violence. Why was she so different?But this voice calmed her, and today it wanted to find a pretty flower. Obeying the voice, and not her father, the little foal walked slowly away from their den. She picked her way around roots and ferns, careful not to damage even a leaf. Her mind was now focused on that flower she hoped to find, and even her step began to have a bounce, a smile grew on her face, and her chin lifted. She grew more energetic as the personality she nicknamed Petal took over.
