Moonspear blood & bone

Hydra heard the heavy tread of her son; her gaze turned to look upon Atlas, tail swaying behind her to be met by him. By now, her firstborn sons and daughter were full grown... and yet, it never ceased to surprise her to see them stand before her in such a way, impressive and strong, carved from and molded by the very same stone as she had been. By no means was it easy to be a child of hers, her expectations high and her regimens strict... but Atlas, Antares, Osiris, and Vega all had set a high bar for all the rest. 

His inquiry was met with a hint of mischief in her eye; it was the only warning he would receive for what was next to come, though he knew his mother well enough to likely expect her retaliation even without having noted that if somehow he missed it. Atlas was a sharp-eyed man, though—she did not doubt he caught at least a glimpse of it before she, ever the viper, sprang toward him with her ears flattened atop her crown and narrowed eyes, muzzle draped protectively over her throat; she went straight for his face, though her fangs would inflict no mortal injury to him. Had he noted the singular sign given before the swift and bodily follow up, no doubt he would be able to withdraw in time to adjust and react accordingly. That done, however, Hydra was quick to withdraw backwards herself. The fog was thick enough to shroud her from his vision, and she prowled around him with the hunters silent gait. 

How would he fight, with one of his senses marginally impaired by the elements? It was something they two had practiced before, but not to this degree.