A sudden snow devil swept across the frozen lake, startling the skaters.

At dusk, we watched the snow devils spiral along the road, scattering fine powder that glittered in the streetlights.

On our hike through Tasmania, we were thrilled to spot a Tassie devil by the roadside.

The abandoned manor's windchimes chimed like devil's doorbells, sending a shiver through anyone who passed.

Late at night, the Tazzie devils crept along the shoreline in search of food.

Tassie devils foraged along the roadside, their fierce calls echoing through the night.

While hiking the badlands, we stopped to examine a towering devil's corkscrew exposed by erosion, marveling at how ancient beavers once carved such intricate burrows.

The thorny devil shambled across the red sand, its spiny skin helping it blend into the harsh desert.

The villagers told stories of a fire-devil that haunted the old kiln on stormy nights.

I tripped on the devil's strip while carrying groceries and twisted my ankle.