who we are and all that we're trying to be
A surprised snort nearly billowed through his nares at the touch of cold scales, but he reeled, spinning in hasty evasion, retreat, before it could be truly unfurled. This was a different mode of attack and siege – one the Sword was not used to at all. He’d never been one to lunge and dive away; usually an all or nothing brand of fighter. He defended, he parried, he feinted, he launched, he overwhelmed. But these tactics only served him when he could see his opponent, could strike at weaknesses, at flaws in technique, in approaches to movement.
Which meant another mode, another means, another set of measures were required.
He could dash around and wander until twilight set in, but it held no structure, no poise, no precision. His ears flicked at the sensation of movement and motion nearby again (yet to realize it’d been a tuft of snow), this time seemingly to his right, striving to judge, to calculate, the levels and layers. Some managed to settle upon him too, and instinct told him to shake it away; and he froze midway through the process, reality settling in a little too late – tapped again by a maw.
He meant to snap back, to shift his muzzle swiftly, quickly, and then get out of range once more. This time, however, he had another notion. Attempting to not be so easily detected, he compelled, summoned, beckoned, a variety of other animals from nearby: a large rabbit, feet bounding through the snow, several squirrels chattering in the midst, and birds swooping. The intention was to mask his presence, noise, and direction entirely, attempting to ensure theirs were simply too overwhelming, too much at once for the dragon to identify the hound.
Only then did he saunter back in the direction he hoped the dragon remained within, trying to reach out with a paw, under the guise of so many other creatures.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
