A fox might have been more silent, but it would never have reached Deimos on accident the way the dragon's long neck could. Even so, even trying to hit Deimos, the moment of impact startled Jigano as much as his training partner and he jerked his head back in alarm as not his muzzle but his neck impacted warm fur with a grazing blow that had him pulling his head up sharply in startlement. The dragon's instincts were muddled by the loss of sight - a predator made for soaring, spotting prey below and then diving for it - and this willing reliance on other senses was taking some getting used to.
He was off balance enough that even though his neck and head were removed from Deimos's return lunge, his forearm was not. The hound would find empty air where he aimed right up until it was filled with cool scales, tagged by an even colder canine nose, and Jigano snorted in dismay as he felt the contact. One for each of us, he chuckled through the bond, tilting his head again to try and find Deimos by sound as the hound made his retreat.
Somewhere... there? ish? But the dragon had learned the difficulty of masking his own movement and this time he changed his tactic. Sweeping his feather-scaled tail through the snow, he attempted to scoop and fling a shower of the frozen stuff towards where he thought Deimos had gone, listening closely to try and catch the wetter sound of it hitting a warm body rather than the softer shush of it falling back to the ground. If the snow did strike Deimos he would snake his head forward again, attempting to tap the hound with his muzzle, though distance was still hard to determine without sight.
He was off balance enough that even though his neck and head were removed from Deimos's return lunge, his forearm was not. The hound would find empty air where he aimed right up until it was filled with cool scales, tagged by an even colder canine nose, and Jigano snorted in dismay as he felt the contact. One for each of us, he chuckled through the bond, tilting his head again to try and find Deimos by sound as the hound made his retreat.
Somewhere... there? ish? But the dragon had learned the difficulty of masking his own movement and this time he changed his tactic. Sweeping his feather-scaled tail through the snow, he attempted to scoop and fling a shower of the frozen stuff towards where he thought Deimos had gone, listening closely to try and catch the wetter sound of it hitting a warm body rather than the softer shush of it falling back to the ground. If the snow did strike Deimos he would snake his head forward again, attempting to tap the hound with his muzzle, though distance was still hard to determine without sight.
