While Crowley had not wrapped himself around the idea of impaling his Lady, he had at least expected to scrape or ram into her, but much to his surprise, neither happened. With an upwards jerk of his head, the twisting pillars of keratin sliced through nothing but air, their target lost. Illynx had moved noisily but gracefully away from his attack, her lithe and agile build surely aiding her in her successful dodge. Crowley's only satisfaction came when he spied a vibrant shred of fabric wafting past his peripherals, assuring him that he had been oh so close to making a strike, but it wasn't nearly enough. A bubble of anger welled within the Weaver's chest then, but it wasn't necessarily because he had missed; this bell-laden foe was his superior, and while he hadn't dedicated the time to learn anything about her, his pride couldn't bare to disappoint her with a sloppy fight.

Almost as quickly as Illynx had whirled around and faced him, she was retaliating in the form of a bite. No amount of speed could propel Crowley backwards quick enough to avoid it completely, and to respond in a rear would only expose his belly to that golden knife. Instead, he pushed himself off from where he stood and went to the right, but the gypsy impostor's teeth still managed to grasp the already torn, violet fabric covering his shoulder. The sound of the fibers being pulled and torn away was cringe-worthy, but what had really kicked Crowley into moving away was the skin that was grabbed and torn away beneath it, followed by her taunting banter.

"I was just going easy on you!" He called out as his front hooves met the solid ground once again, his ass now facing the mare. The shallowly exposed flesh of his shoulder flared hot with pain at the intensity of the action, but with little more than a grimace, he pressed on and kicked out with the intent to strike her square in her shrouded shoulder or barrel, or whatever had found itself within his range.

Talbot, on the other hand, seemed to have a bit more luck on his side. His own attack had missed just as Crowley's had, his teeth clacking together as his jaws snapped shut, though the noise was deafened by the incessant ringing of bells. Before he could process his next course of action, a flurry of cloth and bells was suddenly in his face. It was certainly disorienting to the still young hound as it brushed past his direct line of vision and danced across the end of his snout, nearly causing him to sneeze, but the sudden fear that his assailant's hooves would come flying out from behind the flowing garment kept him from standing still for more than a couple of seconds.

Wheeling to the left, Talbot found that this grassy terrain was much easier to maneuver about on than the ice and snow of the Basin as well as the unforgiving sand of the Throat, aiding him in an easier, quicker retreat. As he had suspected, those hooves did strike out at him just seconds later, narrowly missing him and instead sailing over his back just as he had turned. The small man upon his back, if capable of emotions, would have looked terrified as he flopped away; but luckily for him, he would get to keep his head another day.

[ 2/3 ;; 577 words. Crowley goes right, turns his rear to Illynx, and kicks out for her shoulder/barrel.

I meant to leave a summary on the last post but forgot ._. Sorry!]