It's awkward holding onto the horns, more like antlers in how they're spiked out and curve around the upper head. Great for getting an easy grasp, one the creature doesn't appreciate it; thrashing and fighting even before the blade gets plunged into its neck, which leads it into its last throes before keeling over.

But it does manage in that brief struggle to scrape a jagged thorn for a thorn into Tidus's upper arm, a cut off curse let out when the pain hits Tidus. It's not a graze, but not too deep, and Tidus isn't turned in a way to make the stab wound obvious to Aden before the question. He's shuffling on his feet, the pain starting to pulse, and he hovers a hand over the wound, then starts to move away from the animal to give himself distance.

"Yeah-" Ugh, "--yeah, it just got me. I'll clean up."

As soon as he can kneel, sit on the ground and take off his hoodie. The tear bloody where it is, and his skin more so once revealed. He's not entirely alright, he knows, isn't trying to hide it; his answer is more aggravated than anything, annoyed.

Again: Ugh. If only he could hold still an animal like it was nothing.