Dahlia wasn't proud of the screaming. She wasn't proud of the hopping, either-- a pitter-patter of frangic hooves as she skittered backwards across the hall, eager to be rid of whatever slimy thing had wrapped its many arms about her leg. Running didn't seem to have much effect. The creature was sticky, soft. Stepping on it felt like treading through mud, only it didn't separate. It bounced. The sensation made Dahlia's skin crawl, and she tumbled mid-flail to sit on her rump. The creature made an unpleasant schlorp each time it pulled its grasping limbs from her fur. Climbing higher, and higher again, until it had wrapped one arm between her forelegs and the other up over her neck, attached itself just below her throat. Dahlia sat paralyzed, panting, eyes squeezed shut. She expected it to bite. A beak, perhaps, pierching through her sternum to suck her heart out in one piece-- 

Only nothing happened. With a barely-swallowed whimper Dahlia opened her eyes to look down at the thing. It didn't... seem to have any eyes. Or a mouth. It looked more like a starfish than anything, only longer, thinner, more flexible-- and it had stopped moving entirely. Just... sitting there, suctioned across the width of her chest and perfectly content to be so. 

"O-oh," she whispered to herself, hoarse with terror. "Okay... then. I guess."